Chapter XIV. The Telephone Call - Page 2

you think you have solved the problem?"

"Not completely, but I'll soon be able to write Q. E. D. after it. Some refinements are all that are needed, Dad."

"Glad to hear it. I was a bit anxious."

Mr. Swift questioned his son about the technical details of the trip, asking how the motor had acted under the pressure caused by so completely muffling the exhaust, and for some minutes the two inventors, young and old, indulged in talk which was not at all interesting to Mr. Damon. They went into the house, and Tom asked to have a little lunch, which Mrs. Baggert set out for him.

"It's rather late to eat," said the young inventor, "but I always feel hungry after I test a new machine and find that it works pretty well. Will you join me in a sandwich or two, Mr. Damon?"

"Why, bless my ketchup bottle, I believe I will."

And so they ate and talked. Tom was on the point of telling his father something of the queer cry for help they had heard on the lonely meadow when Mrs. Baggert produced a letter which she said had come for Tom that afternoon, but had been mislaid by a new maid who had been engaged to help with the housework.

"She took it to the shop after you had left, and only now told me about it," explained Mrs. Baggert. "So I sent Eradicate for it."

"How long ago was that?" asked Tom, as he took the missive.

"Oh, an hour ago," answered Mrs. Baggert, with a smile. "But don't blame poor Rad for that. He wanted to deliver the letter to you personally, and so did Koku. The result was your giant kept after Rad, trying to get the letter from him, and Rad kept hiding and slinking about for a chance to see you himself until I saw what was going on, a little while ago, and took the letter myself. Else you might never have gotten it, so jealous are those two," and Mrs. Baggert laughed.

"Guess it isn't of much importance," Tom said, as he tore open the envelope. "It's from the Universal Flying Machine Company, of New York, and I imagine they're trying to get me to reconsider my refusal to link up with them."

"Yes," he went on, as he read the missive, "that's it. They've raised the amount to thirty thousand a year now, Dad, and they say they feel sure I shall regret it if I do not accept.

"This is a bit queer, though," went on the young inventor. "This letter was written three days ago, but it reached Shopton only to-day. And it says that unless they hear from me at once they will have to take steps that will cause me great inconvenience. They have nerve, at any rate, and impudence, too! I won't even bother to answer. But I wonder what they mean, and why this letter was delayed?"

"The mails are all late on account of the transportation congestion caused by moving