he greenhouse, my dear, you know that the old flue is worn-out, and
really something must be done to heat it."

"Oh, never mind that," said Aunt Hannah, but Vane pricked up his ears.

"But I must mind it, my dear," said the doctor. "It does not matter
now, but the cold weather will come, and it would be a pity to have the
choice plants destroyed."

"I think it is not worth the trouble," said Aunt Hannah. "See how
tiresome it is for someone to be obliged to come to see to that fire
late on cold winter nights."

"There can be no pleasure enjoyed, my dear, without some trouble," said
the doctor. "It is tiresome, I know, all that stoking and poking when
the glass is below freezing point, and once more, I say I wish there
could be some contrivance for heating the greenhouse without farther
trouble."

Vane pricked up his ears again, and for a few moments his uncle's words
seemed about to take root; but those wheels rolled into his mind
directly after, and he was wondering where they could belong to, and how
it was that he had not missed them when he put the others back.

Then the grilled chicken interfered with his power of thinking, and the
greenhouse quite passed away.

The evenings at the Little Manor House were very quiet, as a rule. The
doctor sat and thought, or read medical or horticultural papers; Aunt
Hannah sat and knitted or embroidered and kept looking up to nod at Vane
in an encouraging way as he was busy over his classics or mathematics,
getting ready for reading with the rector next day; and the big cat
blinked at the fire from the hearthrug.

But, on this particular night, Vane hurried through the paper he had to
prepare for the next day, and fetched out of the book-cases two or three
works which gave a little information on horology, and he was soon deep
in toothed-wheels, crown-wheels, pinions, ratchets, pallets,
escapements, free, detached, anchor, and half-dead. Then he read on
about racks, and snails; weights, pendulums, bobs, and compensations.

Reading all this was not only interesting, but gave the idea that taking
a clock to pieces and putting it together again was remarkably easy; but
there was no explanation about those missing wheels.

Bedtime at last, and Vane had another scrub with the nail-brush at his
hands before lying down.

It was a lovely night, nearly full-moon, and the room looked so light
after the candle was out that Vane gave it the credit of keeping him
awake. For,