stacles.

He went on: "After I had my system of color worked out, I began to plan
my machine, then to build it, and now--" He covered his face with his
hands. Suddenly he took them down, turned to his children and with eyes
alight, cried:

"For the progress of humanity have I worked, my children. To read men's
meanings, the purposes for which they live, have I created this
machine."

The children, deeply stirred with him, gazed back into his kindled face.
His magnetism lifted them. For humanity he had worked, should always
work, and with him they understood that this was the greatest service.
With him they rose on the wings of creative imagination. Desire ran deep
in each small heart to do something for the benefit of man. Not money,
not position, but love for one's fellows, work for one's fellows! Never
in all their lives were they to forget this moving hour in the attic.
Its influence would be with them for always.

After a moment Maizie spoke: "How does The Machine know your color,
daddy?"

The inventor smiled. "It has an eye, see?" He pointed to the lens in
the telescope. Then he opened the small door. "In this place it has
sensitized plates; this helmet, too, is highly sensitized." He paused
and then laughed at himself as he saw the mystified expressions of his
children. "Well, let us try Maizie. I know her color, but let's see what
the machine says." He turned out the lamp. "Come, Maizie," he said.

So Maizie seated herself before the machine and watched to see what the
glass plate should say of her. The plate remained for a moment clear,
then slowly there grew a feather of color. Smoke color, a sort of dove
gray, it was and so remained, despite its neutrality, quite plainly
visible.

Mr. Procter lifted the helmet, hushed the machine. He went to his book,
took it to the window, raised the shade a trifle and peered down. "As I
knew," he said. Then closing the book and turning to his small daughter,
he went on: "My little Maizie will some day nurse back to health those
who are weary and worn; she will be patient, full of understanding, and
she will be greatly beloved."

Maizie's face grew luminous. "And so I'll do good too, just like you,"
she said, with a beautiful faith.

"You will do good, too, my daughter," he answered, with exquisite
egotism in his inclusion.

Peter, eager-eyed, looked up at his father.

"Do you think I have a color, too, daddy?" he asked.

"Yes, Peter. Take your place."

Pete