David met Mr. Garven at the train, with the two assistants who had come with him, for this examination of a new invention, produced by a man of the reputation and skill of Mr. Reynolds, was no small thing. Betsey scanned them anxiously as they entered the house and observed that Mr. Garven was gray-haired, with a clever, alert face, possibly the same age as Miss Miranda’s father, but with more of briskness and vigor. The time seemed endless to her as they sat talking to their hostess in the living room, but in reality it was brief, for it was plainly the wish of every one that the business in hand be reached at once. Miss Miranda was very quiet, but Elizabeth could see that her hand trembled as she opened the door of the shop. “David will show you everything,” she told them. It was evident that she spoke briefly because she was too nervous to say more. She and Elizabeth lingered by the door while David led the visitors forward. For the first time Betsey noticed the unusual order of the place. Always before, when Mr. Reynolds and David worked there, the shelves and benches had been covered with tools and drawings and the table piled with papers. She knew that no person had recently put the room to rights, for no one, not even David, dared move anything for fear of misplacing it. Yet now the shop was so bare and tidy that it seemed Mr. Reynolds himself must have set things in final order, meaning truly never to work there again. Along the walls were ranged the earlier machines from which the great idea had developed, while at the far end of the room stood the final model, the perfected dream of ten years’ toil. It was the same one that had run wild and attempted to ruin itself on that day when Betsey and David came to the rescue. The strangers bent over it examining every crank and bolt with silent, intent interest. There was nothing said for a long time. It was one of the assistants who, bursting out at last, broke the silence. “I always knew Reynolds would have it on the rest of us,” he exclaimed delightedly, laughing out loud in sheer pleasure at the greatness of the achievement. “We all said that he had not disappeared from view like this for nothing. And now he has done what every one of us would have given his eyes to accomplish!” “Yes,” assented the older man slowly, “it is the principle that we have all dreamed of, that only a very great and a very patient man could bring to reality at last. Now,” to David, “we will see it in motion if you please, sir.” It is probable that all in the room held their breaths as David laid his hand upon the lever. Betsey was certain that she held hers and that she felt all dry and hollow inside, so tense was her anxiety. She listened for the familiar sound of turning wheels, the smooth rising note as they spun into motion. Every one listened—but the machine remained silent. “There is something wrong, sir,” she heard David say huskily.