d so I snapped out: 'All right, put
the burden on me! I'll give them their chance just because you say so.'
And where men were dissatisfied he got at them and discovered the
trouble, and down there they all trust him, and his influence will be
like a river flowing on, ever widening. So there's the late history of
the man who stands and calls himself a failure."

So he finished, said not another word, looked once at the inventor, and
then went away.

* * * * *

Suzanna, trying in vain that night to sleep, tossed about restlessly.
Maizie, a sound sleeper, did not stir despite her sister's wakefulness.
Suzanna was thinking of her father, of the Eagle Man, of The Machine.

Suddenly she lay quite still. She was remembering the day when The
Machine had registered her color, a soft purple, gold tipped. How
stirred her father had been when the wavering color spread itself upon
the glass plate. It had repeated its marvel for Maizie and Peter. Why
then when The Machine was removed and conveyed to the big steel mills,
did it stand brooding, sulky, refusing to make any record of any
personality. She sat up straight in bed, her eyes yearning forward into
the dark. And all at once the answer came to her. Only in the attic,
where, piece by piece, in prayer, hope, and jubilation it had been
assembled; where love and belief had formed the atmosphere could The
Machine be its own highly sensitive self, reacting and responding.

With that big thought flowing through her, she slipped from the bed. The
night was warm, soft little breezes coming through the open window. She
went to the closet, found her slippers, put them on, and with a backward
glance at the unconscious Maizie, left the room.

The hall lay quiet, the tiny night lamp flickering in its place on the
small table set near her mother's room--that mother, ready at the first
sound to spring to any need of her children.

Downstairs Suzanna went swiftly, and there in the dining-room, as she
had thought, she found her father. He was sitting at the long table,
above which hung the new lamp with its pink shade and long brass chain.
His head was bent over a big book, and Suzanna knew that he was
studying. She paused half-way to him. In her white night gown, her hair
flowing over her shoulders, she looked like a small visitor from another
higher plane. At last her father, impelled, turned and saw her. At once
he opened wide his arms, and she went into