Jack took a deep and inquisitive interest in his grandfather which made him often stroll up the hill to smoke a pipe on the bench near him. Sometimes John pretended to be asleep when he heard his grandson's whistle on the path below him. He was bewildered by this handsome, quick-witted, cocksure, bearded young man who it seemed was already at twenty-three a promising Fatigue Eliminator, and might presently become a Simplyfier. His grand-daughter, Catherine, he had not yet seen, as she was in quarantine owing to a cold, and the Catarrh Inspector had only to-day pronounced her free from infection. "You sleep a great deal, Grandfather," said Jack, coming so suddenly into view that John had not time to close his eyes. "Don't you find so much sleep tends to retard cerebral activity?" "I don't happen to possess cerebral, or any other form of activity," said John, coldly. "Do you mean you wish er--to resume the reins? Father and I were talking of it last night. Everything he has is yours, you know, by law." John shook his head, and looked at his powerless hands. "Reins are not for me," he said. "Well, in my opinion, grandfather," said Jack, with approval, not wholly devoid of patronage, "you're right. A great deal of water has passed under the bridge since your day." "This clearing in the wood is the same," John said. "That is why I like it, and my old home looks just the same--from here." There was a moment's silence while Jack lit his pipe. John suddenly said, "I put in the electric light. My father never would hear of it, but I did it." He thought it was just as well that his magnificent grandson should know that he had done something when he held the reins. "That is one of the many things I have been wishing to discuss with you, grandfather. You installed electric light in the house and stables and garage, but there was power enough to light a town. While you were doing it, why didn't you light the church and the village as well?" "I never thought of it." "But it must have made you very uncomfortable to feel you had not shared the benefit of it with the community. The village lies at your very gates. You must have hated the feeling that you had lit yourself up, and left them in the dark. It was essential, absolutely essential for your workers' well-being that they should have light. Even in your day the more intelligent among the agricultural labourers were beginning to migrate to the towns. We only got them back by better conditions in lighting and housing, and facilities for movement and amusement." "Electric light in cottages was unheard of in my time," said John. "It never entered my head."