I drove out, and just outside the door--this was in January, and there was snow upon the streets--one of my chains flipped off. Forgan’s hail of warning stopped me, and he shut the door and came out to help me adjust the chain. “I see Ernie telling you about his movie,” he said, as we worked. And I was surprised, for the man’s tone was perfectly respectful. “Yes,” I replied. “He seems to take it seriously.” “Well, now, you know,” Forgan told me, “it’s made a big change in Ernie.” “Change?” I blew upon my cold fingers and fumbled at the chains. “Yes. He never had much git-up to him before. But now he’s full of ideas. Rigged that water-curtain to wash the cars. Things like that. Good ideas, too.” My interest was caught. “A real inventor?” “You’d be surprised. He took him two of these here electric pads that you sleep on when you got the lumbago, and made a bag of them, just right to fit round the carbureter and the manifold of his old flivver; and he keeps her all warm at night from the light-socket. No heat in his garage. No starter on his car; but he says she starts at the first whirl now.” “That’s pretty good,” I agreed. “More power to him. I’ve no heat, either. Use one of those electric things under the hood; but Ernie’s notion is better.” “Get him to make you one,” Forgan advised. And, the chain adjusted, I stepped in and drove away. I was able, thus prompted by Forgan, to mark the development in Ernie during the succeeding weeks. He became steadily more alert of eye, and at the same time more confident of his own powers. One day in early spring I drove in and remarked that I had dropped a grease-cup off the forward right-hand spring. “I’ll stick one on,” he promised. “One around here somewheres.” And added, “You won’t be using them things any more in a year or two.” “I suppose you’re right. They’ll do away with them somehow,” I agreed. “They won’t,” said Ernie. “But I will.” “You’ve got a scheme? Automatic lubrication?” “Better than that,” he told me. “Better?” “I’ll show you one o’ these days,” he promised. But would say no more. IV It was not till early May that I was shown, and, as the thing chanced, it was Forgan who then showed me. I happened to come in when Ernie was not there. We spoke of him, and Forgan said, “You know what that old guy’s done?” I shook my head. “Company’s backing him,” said Forgan. “He’s got a great thing. You come down-stairs.” We went down to the machine shop under the receiving floor. Forgan unlocked the door, led me into a small room. On a bench was set up a tiny electric motor, harnessed to a wheel and connected with a simple bit of apparatus which had no meaning, at first sight, at all. But Forgan stopped the motor and made all clear to me. The power revolved a wooden spindle, which entered a hole in a steel block, whirling there. I could perceive no purpose in this, but Forgan said: “It’s a test. It don’t do anything. Feel of it. Ain’t hot, is it?”