tub of dirty water to temper it, and as
he tried it in the groove where it belonged upon the automobile backed
up to the shop, he found that it was not exactly true, and went to work
to spring it back into line. The Judge looked around the shop--a barny,
little place filled with all sorts of wheels and pulleys and levers and
half-finished inventions that wouldn't work, and that, even if they
would work, would be of little consequence. There was an attempt to make
a self-oiler for buggy wheels, a half-finished contrivance that was
supposed to keep cordwood stacked in neat rows; an automatic contraption
to prevent coffeepots from burning; a cornsheller that would all but
work; a molasses faucet with an alcohol burner which was supposed to
make the sirup flow faster--but which instead sometimes blew up and
burned down grocery stores, and there were steamers and churns and
household contrivances which the Captain had introduced into the homes
of Harvey in past years, not of his invention, to be sure, but
contrivances that had inspired his eloquence, and were mute witnesses to
his prowess--trophies of the chase. Above the forge were rows of his
patent sprockets, all neatly wrapped in brown paper, and under this row
of merchandise was a clipping from the _Times_ describing the
Captain's invention, and predicting--at five cents a line--that it would
revolutionize the theory of mechanics and soon become a household need
all over the world.

As the Judge looked idly at the Captain's treasures while the Captain
tinkered with the steel, he took off his hat, and the Captain, peering
through his glasses, remarked:

"Getting kind of thin on top, Tom--eh? Doc, he's leaning a little hard
on his cane. Joe Calvin, he's getting rheumatic, and you're getting
thin-haired. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away."

"So you believe the Lord runs things here in Harvey, do you, Cap?" asked
the Judge, who was playing with a bit of wire.

"Well--I suppose if you come right down to it," answered the Captain, "a
man's got to have the consolation of religion in some shape or other or
he's going to get mighty discouraged--what say?"

"Why," scoffed the Judge, "it's a myth--there's nothing to it. Look at
my wife--I mean Margaret--she changes religion as often as she changes
dogs. Since we've been married she's had three religions. And what good
does it do her?"

The Captain, sighting down the edge of the metal, shook his head, and
the Judge w