Bright Ideas

The Cold Water Cure

I

“We’ll get some lunch at my digs,” said Templeton, as he started with Eves on the return journey. “I’ll have time to show you one or two ideas of mine before I am due back at the garage.”

“Oh, I say, Bob, I’d made up my mind to stand you a topping lunch at some hotel or other. Lunch at digs!”

Eves’s look was eloquent. Templeton smiled gently.

“There’s only one hotel, or rather inn,” he said, “and there you can only get Government beer. It has only domestic rations. Besides, you don’t know my landlady—she’s a gem! She expects me, you know, and she’ll have enough for two.”

“‘A heart resigned, submissive, meek,’” Eves quoted. “Well, old sport, I’ll try to bear up, and as I’ve a tremendous appetite after hospital slops, you know—just buck in, will you?”

The road being mainly down-hill, and the petrol tank now full, Templeton had resolved to run back on engine power alone, and had furled the sails. Just below the crest of the hill they passed the green car, about which Noakes and his two companions were apparently engaged in a heated altercation. Noakes scowled fiercely as the road yacht dashed on.

“Rummy we should come across that old humbug!” said Eves. “Still rummier that he should be Mayor of Pudlington. I thought the mayoralty was the reward for long years of civic virtue. Old Noakes can’t have been here more than a couple of years. How is it you didn’t know he was mayor?”

“My dear man, I’m not interested in municipal affairs. Besides, I’ve only been here a few weeks, and with only two months’ leave——”

“Just so. Like the busy bee, you must improve each shining hour. That bee must have been a frightful prig.”

“Come, now——”

“No offence, old bean! Of course he gathered loads of honey, and all that: a jolly useful life—adventurous, too—saw a lot of the world, don’t you know: always on the move. That part would suit me to a T. We’re both like the bee, you see: you in your industry, and what you may call stickiness; me in my roving propensity, my incurable levity, my passion for honeydew—in the form of cigarettes. I say, Bob, I think I’ll write for the magazines. I don’t see why my ideas shouldn’t be worth something, as well as yours.”

“What ideas?”

“That’s an unkind cut, after I’ve been spouting ideas galore. I’m afraid the mechanical mind will always be blind to the beauties of literature. ‘A primrose by the river’s brim’—Steady, old sport, you nearly capsized us!” Templeton had swung round suddenly into a by-lane. “I was quoting a sublime passage from one William Wordsworth.”

“Well, never mind him,” said Templeton, drawing up in front of a solitary cottage. “Here we are! Go straight up the stairs—you’ll find a clean towel. I’ll tell Mrs. Pouncey you’re here, and follow you.”

When the two friends entered the little sitting-room a few minutes later the landlady, a short, very stout, pleasant-faced woman of sixty or thereabouts, had just placed two steaming plates of soup on the table.

“My friend Mr. Eves, Mrs. Pouncey,” said Templeton.

“How d’ye do, Mrs. Pouncey?” said Eves, shaking hands. “Mr. Templeton has been telling me you’re the best cook in the three kingdoms. You know you did, Bob; don’t protest. He’s very hard to please, Mrs. Pouncey, very; and if he’s satisfied, you may be sure that a man of my humbler tastes will be absolutely bowled over.”

“Well, now, I declare I wouldn’t have thought it. Mr. Templeton have never said a single grumble, not one. He’s the best young man lodger as I’ve ever had, that I will say—no trouble at all!”

“Ah, Mrs. Pouncey! how many young men lodgers have you said the same thing about? Your last lodger, for instance, now, confess!”

“‘Deed no, sir. You be very far out. My last lodger was—there, I couldn’t abide en, he was that cantankerous, and such language—I never did! I know a real gentleman when I see en, and he was nothing but a make-believe, for all his fur coat. Thankful I am he was only here a few days, and that to oblige the mayor.”

“Mr. Noakes?”

“Ay, sure, that be the mayor’s name, and well I know it. But do ’ee take your soup, now, ’twill be cold, and cold soup lays heavy, not to speak o’ the nastiness, and the pork chops grilled to a cinder.”

The good woman had toddled away while speaking, and her last words came faintly through the open door.

“Jolly good soup, Bob,” said Eves. “And pork chops! Splendid! The old dame is a treasure. I’ll get her to tell us about our worthy mayor.”

Mrs. Pouncey returned with two well-grilled pork chops and a dish of sprouts and baked potatoes.

“Absolutely topping, Mrs. Pouncey!” said Eves. “What on earth did your last lodger find to grumble at, if you treated him like this?”

“Lor’ bless ’ee, sir, he’d grumble at everything, pertickler at the bill. He’d want a penny took off here, and a penny there: and he would measure out his tea hisself, and cut his own rashers. I never did see the like.”

“And a friend of the mayor, too!”

“Ay, and more’n a friend, so it do seem. ’Tis said here and there ’twas a gentleman—gentleman, says I, but that’s the talk!—a gentleman from London as have Mr. Noakes in his pocket, so to speak it.”

“Really!”

“Ay. No wonder you be mazed, the mayor being such a terrible great man and all. Some folks do rise quick in the world, to be sure. ’Tis only a matter of two year since he came here, from no one knowed where, and ’a took up a big contrack with the camp for building huts, and running a canteen, I think they do call it, and I don’t know what all. Ay sure, he’ve his fingers in many a pie, but I warrant they’ll get burnt, they will!”

“But how did a stranger become mayor so quickly?”

“Why, being such a great man, they put him on the Council, and t’other councillors being little small men, he got over ’em, that’s what I say. Bless ’ee, he’d have got ’em to make him king, if so be there was kings out of London. Ah, he’ve a power of money! He bought this cottage that I’ve paid rent for regular this twenty year, and he telled me he’d raise the rent as soon as Parlyment will let him, if not before. And he made me take this Saunders man for twenty shillings a week, when I’ve never had less than twenty-five, never!”

Apple dumplings called Mrs. Pouncey from the room. When she returned with them, and Eves wanted to know how the apples got inside the crust, the dame gave a lengthy explanation which lasted till the conclusion of the meal.

“We’ve a few minutes,” said Templeton then. “Come and see my road-sweeper.”

He led Eves to an old shed at the rear of the premises. On entering, Eves’s eye was caught by a large formless mass of a substance somewhat resembling putty.

“Hullo!” he cried. “Been playing with plasticine?”

“That’s another little idea of mine,” replied Templeton. “A new fire extinguisher.”

“You had better form a company, old sport. ‘Bright Ideas, Unlimited.’ How’s it work?”

“It’s very simple. You let a shallow tank, about a quarter-inch deep, into the ceiling of a room. The bottom, flush with the plaster, is pierced with holes like a sieve, the holes are plugged with my composition, and you run water into the tank. If a fire occurs the heat melts the composition——”

“I see! Splendid! Down comes the rain and puts out the fire! But will the shower last long enough?”

“Really, I’m surprised at you, Tom! The fall from a tank like that will be equivalent to an average week’s rainfall. But the point of the idea is the composition. I’ve tried other preparations without success, but this stuff of mine sets hard and yet melts easily. By varying the proportions of the ingredients you can get it to melt at different temperatures, but I haven’t quite finished my experiments in that direction. The difficulty is to gauge the exact temperature required, but I’ll manage it before long.”

“It hasn’t been tried yet in a building, then?”

“Not exactly; but a decent local builder was rather taken with it when I showed it to him, and he’s giving it a trial at the new Literary Institute he’s putting up. The building was stopped by the war, but he has already started work again, and he’s willing to test the idea before the plasterers finish. He has rigged up a sort of tray on the laths in the roof of the big room, and one of these days is going to put a brazier underneath. You see, if the stuff melts too easily, it will only mean a slop on the floor, and won’t do any damage.”

“I see. What are you going to call the stuff?”

“Time enough for that when I’ve perfected the invention and sent in for my patent. Here’s my road-sweeper.”

He pointed to a somewhat rusty vehicle standing against one of the walls.

“I’m only waiting for a supply of petrol to try it,” he added. “The old engine uses up a frightful lot. But our allowance is due in to-morrow. I say, can you stay a day or two? Mrs. Pouncey can put you up.”

“Rather! I’ve got ten days’ leave.”

“That’s all right, then. Now we had better get back to the garage. Wilkins will be in a bait if it’s not open sharp at two.”

II

As Templeton drew up in front of the garage, a bill-sticker was posting a bill on one of the side posts of the gate. The heading, hi large type, caught Eves’s eye, and when he got down to open the gate, he stayed to read the announcement while Templeton drove through.

“I say, Bob, there’ll be a splendid rag to-morrow,” he said on rejoining his friend. “There’s a meeting of parliamentary electors at the new Literary Institute—a final kick before the election on Saturday. Old Noakes is in the chair: he’s a pacifist, you remember, and the bill gives short notice that the meeting will be addressed by——” (He mentioned the name of a notorious agitator.) “We’ll go. Ask a few questions, perhaps.”

“Soldiers in uniform are forbidden to——”

“Rats! That’s all gone by the board. The soldier’s a citizen now-a-days.... I say, is this Wilkins?”

“My employer,” replied Templeton.

A thick-set man wearing a long coat and a motor cap was coming up the path.

“Well, any business a-doing?” he asked of Templeton.

“There have been two callers: one was a man who’d over-driven his machine and run short of oil. He was in a tearing hurry, and distinctly offensive. I did what I could for him, and warned him he’d lose his big ends if he wasn’t careful. Here’s the half-crown he paid me.”

“Half-a-crown! No more than that?”

“Well, he paid what I asked.”

“Rot it all! You didn’t ask enough. A feller in a hurry, and likewise rude, ought to be made to pay. Look ’ee here, Mr. Templeton, you’re a young feller, and have got a thing or two to learn: you’d best get a notion of charging if you’re to be of any use to me.”

“What about that, then?” asked Templeton, handing him a couple of pound notes.

“Ah, now, that’s better, to be sure! How did ’ee get ’em?” asked Wilkins, pocketing the notes with a pleased smile.

“An Irishman wanted to get to the camp in a hurry. He happened to be polite, so I drove him up in my road yacht. As a matter of fact, we passed the other fellow in his car: he had picked up your mayor, and I gathered he was a business rival of the Irishman. I wasn’t sorry we beat him; his big ends dropped off, as I warned him.”

Eves noticed that Wilkins’s face grew more and more glum as Templeton was speaking, and remembered the telephone call he had answered.

“The Irishman was so pleased that he offered me five pounds,” Templeton went on, “but I thought two pounds was a fair charge.”

“Then dang me if you ain’t done me out of three pounds!” cried the man, irritably. “Did any one ever hear the likes of refusing good money when ’twas offered free? Done me out of three pounds—three pounds, look ’ee, as ought to have been in my pocket! Done me out of it, you have!”

Eves felt that this outburst was not wholly due to Templeton’s moderation in charging.

“Well, Mr. Wilkins,” said Templeton, quietly, “I’m sorry you’re not satisfied. Perhaps we had better part.”

“I don’t say that,” said Wilkins, calming himself with an effort. “You’re a gentleman, that’s where ’tis, and not bred up to understand business. I’ll say no more—let it bide—but another time don’t ’ee go and refuse good money; that’s business. Well, I’m off up along to the town; know where I can get some petrol on the quiet; that’s business too. I’ll be back afore long.”

“You keep queer company, old man!” said Eves, when Wilkins was out of ear-shot.

“He’s trying at times, I confess—a rough diamond,” said Templeton. “But I think he’s sound.”

“I wonder! Somebody wanted him to give Noakes a tip, you remember. He must be very well in with Noakes, and that’s suspicious in itself. His face was as long as a fiddle when you told him O’Reilly got in ahead of Noakes.”

“Well, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt. Now, I’ve got to make a new crank pin for a motor cycle that was brought in for repair this morning. It’ll take me some time, and I don’t want to keep you hanging about. Why not go into the town and have a look round?”

“Righto. What time do you knock off?”

“Five.”

“I’ll call for you, then. So long!”

At half-past four, when Eves returned, the workshop was lighted by the two oil lamps which were its only illumination. Templeton had just finished his work, and was washing his hands at the sink.

“I’ve spent a profitable afternoon,” said Eves, returning to his seat on the bench. “Don’t think much of Pudlington, but an enquiring mind like mine can pick up pearls anywhere. I was strolling along when I came to an uncommonly ugly unfinished building, with ‘Literary Institute’ carved over the door. Some fellows were unloading chairs from a cart, and carrying them in. I went in too, and found your respectable friend the local builder there, superintending the fitting of some gas-burners. ‘Getting ready for the meeting to-morrow?’ I said to him. ‘Ay, sure, sir,’ said he. ‘Town Hall’s occypied by Food Controller and Fuel Controller, and I don’t know what all, so the meeting’s to be held here, though unfinished.’ ‘Rather a cold place,’ I said. ‘Bless ’ee, we’ll hot ’em up to-morrow,’ said he. ‘The walls will sweat like you never see. We’ve got a proper fine furnace down underneath, and the only pity is I haven’t got the ceiling plastered; ’twould have dried a bit.’ Whereupon I mentioned your proposed experiment with your fire extinguisher, and the old boy became cordial at once when I told him you were a friend of mine. You’ve evidently impressed him, Bob.”

Templeton grunted.

“It’s quite true. To be a friend of yours lifts one a good many notches. ‘That young gemman do have a terrible powerful piece of intelleck inside of his brain-pan,’ says your builder. ‘Ay, and what’s more, he’s a rare earnest soul, always inventing things for the good of his day and generation. He’s a credit to the nation, that he be!’ Of course I congratulated him and Pudlington on the temporary possession of so bright an ornament, and we had quite a friendly talk. He seemed rather doubtful whether it’s legal to hold a public meeting in a building before it has been passed by the surveyor, but Noakes is above the law, or thinks he is. We’ll go to-morrow, Bob: it’ll be a good rag.”

“I’m not sure that I want to go to the meeting,” said Templeton.

“Oh, you must! I want to see Noakes’s face when he spies us in the audience. By the way, I think he must be rather thick with your Wilkins. Not many minutes after I’d left the Institute I met the green car being towed along by two great farm horses. Noakes and Saunders were walking alongside. Noakes gave me his usual scowl as he passed, which I countered with my usual grin. Presently I walked round to the market-place, and there was Noakes again, in close confab with Wilkins. When they saw me they both began to talk at once, and it seemed to me that each was telling the other that he had the honour of my acquaintance. At any rate they both looked rather surprised and a good deal more than interested, and their heads were very close together when I saw them last.”

“I’m sick of Noakes,” said Templeton, somewhat irritably.

“What’s the matter? Has he been here?”

“No, but half an hour after you left, Wilkins came back with a can of petrol, and offered it to me for my experiments in a way that was positively fawning.”

“To make amends for his roughness before.”

“I don’t like that sort of thing. It’s too much Noakes’s way, and what you say throws light on it. If he and Noakes are pals—well, when I wangle, even if it’s petrol, I like to do it in decent company. I disliked Wilkins’s manner so much that I declined the petrol: told him I’d wait for the regular supply. The odd thing is that Noakes has not been here at the shop in my time.”

“Rather lucky for you, for if he’d found you here, he would have told Wilkins you’re a dangerous character, and got you fired out. He may do that yet.”

“Well, let’s get along home. Mrs. Pouncey will have high tea ready, and I’m ravenous.”

After their meal, which was tea and supper combined, they smoked for an hour in the sitting-room. Then Templeton jumped up.

“Botheration!” he exclaimed. “I was going to work on my turbine specification, but I’ve left it in a drawer at the shop. I shall have to pull on my boots again and fetch it.”

“Can’t it wait? It’s a horrid night.”

“I really can’t waste a whole evening. My time’s getting short, and I’ve lots still to do.”

“Well, I’ll come along with you. After supper walk a mile, you know. It’s about a mile there and back, I suppose.”

The night was damp and murky. The country lane was unlit, and they found their way by intermittent flashes of Templeton’s electric torch. There was no dwelling between Mrs. Pouncey’s cottage and the garage, and at this hour, half-past eight on a winter night, they were not likely to meet either pedestrians or vehicles. So much the greater, therefore, was Templeton’s surprise, when, on approaching the spot where the garage and workshop stood, he saw a dim light through the window of the latter.

“Wilkins went off at half-past three, and said he wouldn’t be back to-night,” said Templeton. “I suppose he changed his mind.”

To reach the door they had to pass the window. It was only natural that Eves, who was on the inside, should glance in. Catching Templeton by the arm, he drew him back out of the rays of the lamp-light, whispering:

“There’s some one stooping at a drawer, trying a key, apparently. Couldn’t see his face, the light’s too dim.”

“It’s Wilkins, I expect. No one else has any right here,” replied Templeton. “I’ll take a look.”

Peeping round the frame of the window, through the dirty pane, he was able to distinguish nothing but a man’s form at the further end of the shop. The lamp, hanging from the middle of the roof, was turned very low, and the bent attitude of the man, with his back three-parts towards the window, rendered it impossible to discern his features. He was covered with a long waterproof, and a storm cap was pulled low over his head. From his movements it was clear that he was trying one key after another.

“It’s not Wilkins,” whispered Templeton. “I never saw him dressed like that.”

“Then it’s a burglar,” replied Eves. “Nab him!”

They moved on tip-toe to the door. Templeton grasped the handle, murmuring:

“I’ll turn it suddenly—then make a dash!”

There was absolute quiet all around, and the sound of jingling keys came faintly through the door. After a few moments’ pause Templeton turned the handle noiselessly, and pushed the door open. The damp weather had, however, swollen the timber, and the slight sound it made as it strained against the door-post attracted the attention of the man beyond. Still stooping over the drawer, he turned his head sharply.

“My hat! Noakes!” muttered Eves.

Springing into the shop past Templeton, who had halted on recognising Noakes, as if to consider matters, Eves dashed at the waterproofed figure. The moment’s warning had enabled Noakes to prepare for attack. He projected a bony shoulder, prevented Eves from getting the clutch he intended, and made a rush towards the door.

“Collar him, Bob!” cried Eves.

During the next minute there was a rough-and-tumble in which Noakes’s legs played as free a part as was possible to a man encased in a long waterproof. He displayed astounding agility in evading close action, and it was not until Eves caught him by the heel as he kicked out that he was brought to the ground. “I’ll sit on him,” said Eves. “Ring up the police station, Bob, and ask them to send a constable to arrest a burglar.”

“But are you sure—” Templeton began.

“Don’t argue,” said Eves. “He’s a desperate character; I can hardly hold him.”

Templeton went to the telephone, lifted the receiver, then turned again towards Eves.

“Don’t you think, as it’s Mr. Noakes——” he said.

“Mr. Noakes! The Mayor of Pudlington?” interrupted Eves. “Picking locks! Nonsense! Ring up at once, Bob, and then come and help: the ruffian will be too much for me, just out of hospital.”

Templeton gave the message.

“They’ll send a man at once. He’ll be here in about ten minutes,” he reported. “Are you sure it isn’t Mr. Noakes? I could have sworn I recognised him.”

“So I am—so I am,” panted the prisoner, who had hitherto struggled in silence. “What the Turk do ’ee mean by assaulting me—murderous assault—Mayor of Pudlington?”

“Now, now, don’t be rash!” said Eves. “You won’t make matters any better by pretending to be our worthy mayor. He won’t like that, you know, when you’re brought into court to-morrow. I shall have to give evidence, and when I tell him that the fellow caught rifling a drawer took his name in vain——”

“But I be the mayor—Philemon Noakes; and I’ll send you to jail for assault and battery, without the option of a fine. Let me go! I’m the mayor, I tell ’ee!”

“I really think he’s telling the truth,” said Templeton.

Just then Noakes, kicking out, dealt Templeton a heavy blow on the ankle.

“You had better lie still, whoever you are!” said the latter, warmly. “Violence won’t help you!”

“Of course not—only makes things ten times worse!” said Eves. “Catch his legs, Bob; if he isn’t quiet we’ll have to truss him up. I never came across such an impudent scoundrel. Here’s a burglar, caught in the act, claiming to be the chief magistrate! That beats everything! How’s it possible? I say, Bob, there’ll be a queer scene in court to-morrow. Suppose it were true, I can’t for the life of me see how the mayor on the bench and the criminal in the dock are going to arrange matters. Will he hop from one to the other, and finally sentence himself? That’s a Jekyll and Hyde problem I can’t solve. But here’s somebody coming—the bobby, I expect.”

Through the half-open door came a policeman, with handcuffs hanging from his wrists.

“Here he is, constable!” said Eves. “He’s been struggling, but I dare say he’ll go quietly.”

“Now then, there,” said the constable, “get up and come along quiet. We’ve been looking for you a month past. Who gives him in charge?”

“I do,” said Eves, “though I suppose Mr. Templeton ought to do it. You know Mr. Templeton, constable? Temporary assistant to Mr. Wilkins.”

“Ay, sure, I’ve seed the gentleman.” Noakes had now risen, and stood before the constable, Eves on one side, Templeton on the other. His face, hitherto in shade, had come within the rays of the dim lamp.

“Daze me!” said the constable, after a hard stare. “Surely—ay, ’tis the mayor, with the beginning of a black eye!”

“Of course I’m the mayor!” said Noakes, truculently. “These young ruffians have assaulted me. I give them in charge, Brown.”

“That’s cool!” said Eves. “Don’t pay any attention to him, constable. He’s mad, or intoxicated. Mr. Templeton had occasion to come back to the shop, and we found this fellow in the act of trying to open a drawer where Mr. Templeton keeps important papers. He got a bit ruffled, of course. He says he’s the mayor, but is that likely? Take him to the station, constable: we’ll give the superintendent the facts.”

“He’s the mayor, or his double,” said the constable. “And as to arresting the mayor——”

“Don’t be a fool, Brown,” said Noakes. “It’s all a mistake—and a mistake that’ll cost these young ruffians dear. I came here to see Wilkins, and afore I could get a word out, they knocked me down and nigh squeezed the breath out of me.”

“And Wilkins knows that you open his drawers in his absence?” said Eves. “Are these your keys, Bob, or Wilkins’s?”

He held up the bunch of keys which Noakes had dropped.

“Neither,” said Templeton. “Mine are in my pocket: Mr. Wilkins no doubt has his.”

“Well, jown me if I know what to do!” said the constable. “You’d better all come along and charge each other, seems to me!”

“What’s all this?” said a voice at the door.

Wilkins entered breathlessly.

“They rang me up from the station, and told me there was burglars in my shop. Where be they? Mr. Noakes, what have been going on? What have come to your eye?”

“You may well ask, Wilkins. I came to have a word with you about that estimate, you know——” Wilkins tried to look as if he knew—“and these fellows, one an assistant of yours, I understand, set on me and half murdered me—took me for a burglar, ha! ha!”

“He was trying his keys on this drawer, Mr. Wilkins,” said Eves.

“And why not?” demanded Wilkins, indignantly. “Why not, I ask ’ee? ’Tis my drawer, I keep my papers there, and Mr. Noakes having come to see me about an estimate, of course he saves time and gets the estimate out ready.”

“And Brown will take ’em in charge for an unprovoked assault,” said Noakes.

“Well, now, Mr. Noakes,” said Wilkins, soothingly, “I wouldn’t go so far as that. Not if it was me. It do seem ’twas a mistake. They took ’ee for a burglar—a nat’ral mistake, that’s what it was, and my advice to one and all is, let it bide and say no more about it. We don’t want no newspapers getting a hold of things like this. Won’t do none of us no good—that’s what I say.”

Eves was loth to let Noakes go scot free, but after a whispered consultation with Templeton, who pointed out the improbability of any magistrate being induced to believe, in face of Wilkins’s explanation, that the mayor was a burglar, he grudgingly agreed to withdraw the charge. Templeton took the precaution of removing all his own papers from the drawer, and leaving Noakes with Wilkins, returned with Eves to Mrs. Pouncey’s cottage.

“So much for your rough diamond!” said Eves. “Noakes evidently didn’t know before to-day that you were here, and when I saw him confabbing with Wilkins he was no doubt asking all about you. Wilkins must have told him about your inventions, and he thought a visit to your drawer would give him an idea or two, and enable him to get in first with a patent.”

“But you don’t suppose Wilkins was in the plot?”

“I don’t know about that, but he’s clearly under Noakes’s thumb. Some one said that you know a man by the company he keeps. Wilkins keeps uncommonly bad company.”

“I’m disappointed in him, I confess,” said Templeton. “To-morrow I’ll give him a week’s notice, and work on my own for the rest of my leave.”

III

Next morning Templeton, after breakfast, went to the workshop as usual, leaving Eves to his own devices until lunch-time. Eves spent an hour pottering about in the shed, and was particularly interested in the fire extinguishing composition.

“Rummy old sport!” he thought. “I suppose he will strike something really good one of these days, and be a bloated millionaire while I’m pinching on a miserable pension. Wonder what temperature this stuff melts at, by the way.”

He found, standing against the wall, a metal tray pierced with holes which had been plugged with the composition. A thermometer hung on a nail.

“Hanged if I don’t experiment on my own account!” he thought.

He filled the tray with water from the pump in Mrs. Pouncey’s garden, laid it on an iron tripod which he found in the shed, and obtaining some firewood and coke from Mrs. Pouncey, kindled a small fire in an iron brazier. This he put underneath the tray, hanging the thermometer from the tripod. In a few minutes a sizzling informed him that water was trickling through the holes, and lifting the thermometer, he discovered that it registered 76°.

“By George! What a rag!” he exclaimed. “I wonder if it can be done! Mustn’t tell Bob, though!”

He put out the fire, emptied the brazier and the tray, replugged the holes and removed all traces of his experiment. Then he walked into the town, and made his way to the Literary Institute.

“Good morning, Mr. Johnson,” he said to the builder, whom he found reading a newspaper in the large hall, and smiling broadly. “You’ve got all ready for to-night, I see. How many will the place hold?”

“Two hundred and fifty, or thereabouts,” said the builder.

“That’s about the whole able-bodied population of Pudlington, isn’t it?”

“Why no, sir, not with the women folk. They’ve got votes now-a-days, and there be more women voters than men, seemingly. Have ’ee seen the Echo, sir?”

“Your local rag? Anything in it?”

“A rare bit o’ news that you won’t see every week. Look ’ee here.”

He handed the Pudlington Echo to Eves, pointing to a paragraph headed with large type.