her, were holding a serious council
together over their older boy, Walter.

"I can't help feeling a little disappointment over the way things are
going. I did so want the boy to come into the office with me."

"I know," said Esther, with a grave smile, "but he seems to have his
mind made up. I don't think we ought to thwart him if he is made to do
that for his lifework."

"No," said Paul, looking at Esther with great thoughtfulness, "I have
always believed that a boy should have freedom to choose his lifework.
But what puzzles me is where did Walter get his leaning toward
electrical engineering? None of my ancestors, so far as I know, ever had
the slightest tendency that way, and the Darcys for generations have
been business men.

"I was in the boy's room the other day," continued Paul, meditatively,
"and he had the floor and his bed and the chairs covered with models of
electrical machines. I was afraid to sit down or lean up against
anything for fear it would go off and give me a shock or something.
While I was asking questions, what did the boy do but start a
contrivance that hung from the ceiling and it reached down a metallic
arm that grabbed my hat off and began to comb my hair. I yelled,
naturally, or unnaturally, and tried to get loose, but another
contrivance shot out from the wall somewhere and clutched me by the leg
and began to make frantic gestures at my shoes like a wild boot-blacking
emporium. I decided to stand still rather than run the risk of getting
hit somewhere else. Meanwhile Walter was laughing so hard he couldn't
answer my emphatic request to know what the thing was going to do. He
finally explained that it was a new device he was experimenting with to
give the patient head treatment for nervous prostration, and black his
shoes while he waited. I made him turn off the power and then I
cautiously backed out of the room and gave him my testimonial on the
efficacy of his invention adapted to give anyone nervous prostration and
general paralysis who never had them."

Esther laughed, the same good, generous, contagious laugh she had always
known, and Paul had always loved to hear.

"Walter is a genius. I always said he would make his mark."

"I was afraid he would make several on me before I could get away," said
Paul, smiling. "Well, of course, we have really decided to let the boy
go to Burrton. If he is going to have a thorough course in electricity,
I want him to have the best there is."