let me in," said Vickery, shaking the door. "I never could
abide a secret. Come, Bro; I won't tell. Let me in, or I shall climb up
at night and break in," he added gayly.

Bro stood looking at him in silence. Eleven years had he labored there
alone, too humble to speak voluntarily of his labors; too insignificant,
apparently, for questions from others. Although for the most part happy
over his work, there were times when he longed for a friendly ear to
talk to, for other eyes to criticise, the sympathy of other minds, the
help of other hands. At these moments he felt drearily lonely over his
valve and register; they even seemed to mock him. He was not
imaginative, yet occasionally they acted as if moved by human motives,
and, worse still, became fairly devilish in their crooked perverseness.
Nobody had ever asked before to go into that room. Should he? Should he
not? Should he? Then he did.

Lawrence, at home everywhere, sat on a high stool, and looked on with
curiosity while the inventor brought out his inventions and explained
them. It was a high day for Bro: new life was in him; he talked rapidly;
a dark color burned in his thin cheeks. He talked for one hour without
stopping, the buzz of the great saw below keeping up an accompaniment;
then he paused.

"How do they seem to you?" he asked feverishly.

"Well, I have an idea that self-registers are about all they can be now;
I have seen them in use in several places at the North," said Lawrence.
"As to the steam-valve, I don't know; there may be something in it. But
there is no doubt about that screw: for some uses it is perfect, better
than anything we have, I should say."

"Oh, the screw?" said the other man, in a slow, disappointed voice.
"Yes, it is a good screw; but the valve--"

"Yes, as you say, the valve," said Lawrence, jumping down from his
stool, and looking at this and that carelessly on his way to the door.
"I don't comprehend enough of the matter, Bro, to judge. But you send up
that screw to Washington at once and get a patent out on it; you will
make money, I know."

He was gone; there was nothing more to see in the saw-mill, so he
paddled across, and went down toward the dock. The smoke of a steamer
coming in from the ocean could be seen; perhaps there would be something
going on down there.

"He is certainly a remarkably active young fellow," said Mrs. Manning,
as she saw the top of his head passing, the path along-shore being below
the level