But Stephen did not flinch. He felt he almost had it. Once he turned the wheel three-quarters of the way around! His heart leaped up. But after this it balked continuously. Stephen fetched a long quavering sigh of discouragement and fatigue. But he did not stop trying. He could not have stopped. Something more potent than fatigue held him there. The tough fibers of his passionate will were tangled about his effort. He could not stop till he dropped. He was very near dropping. He scarcely knew what he was doing, his attention was so tired. But his hands, his brave, strong little hands kept on working. His back and legs ached. His shoulders bowed themselves. But he did not stop. “Under the bludgeonings of chance....” murmured Lester to himself. And then, all at once, it was as though Stephen had turned a corner. Something rearranged itself inside his head. Instead of toiling uphill he felt himself begin to glide down easily. Why, he could do it! That rebellious right hand of his was suddenly tamed. Whir-r-r! went the steel spokes flashing in the white suds. They sang like music in Stephen’s ears! Whir-r-r! He could hardly believe it! Once in a while it stuck or jerked, but he had only to take thought--Stephen could feel the thinking place in his head draw together _hard_--and command his hand to turn regularly. How it hated to, that old hand! And how Stephen loved the feeling of bossing it around! He turned and turned. The foamy suds frothed higher and higher! Whir-r-r! The kitchen was full of the sound. Stephen threw back his head and, laughing proudly, looked up at his father. His face was ruddy and glowing with his effort, with his triumph. All his fatigue was gone. Whir-r-r! His father drew a long breath. He felt like clapping his hands and shouting “Hurrah!” It had been nip and tuck there for a while. Talk about the cave-man who had invented the bow and arrow! If Stephen had been a cave-man he would have invented the telephone. What a stirring spectacle it had been. He felt as though he had been reading some Emerson. Only it was lots better than any Emerson! “Well, sir,” he exclaimed to the child, “I certainly will hate to have you begin going to school!” The rice pudding was done. He took it out and put some coal on the fire and glanced at the clock. Why, it was almost time to expect the other children in from school. How the afternoon had flown! It was hard to put your mind on anything but the absorbing spectacle of Stephen’s advance into life. He must get out the milk and cookies with which he welcomed the others in. They always burst in as soon as possible after four. Sometimes Lester wondered what they had done before, in the old days, in the interval between four and six, when he usually found them waiting for him at the door of the store. Evangeline used to say that they were “playing ’round” with their school-mates.