ey don't want to be instructed!"

"I know the article well enough," said Violet blushing hotly. "I read
it--I--I saw it advertised, and bought the review, when I hadn't much
money to spend on such things."

"Did you, Violet?" said he, forgetting for a moment his nonsense. Then
he continued: "The publisher thinks that with some padding of a general
and attractive nature, the subject might be made into a book. Why,
therefore, should not our fortune be made at once, and the gates of
Bayswater thrown open to the Peri? I do believe I could make an
interesting book. I will throw in a lot of Irish anecdotes. I wonder if
I could have it illustrated with pictures of 'Charles I. in Prison,' the
'Dying Infant,' 'The Sailor's Adieu,' and some such popular things!"

"I think," said Violet humbly, "we might go on to the other project."

"Ah," said he thoughtfully, "that requires time and silence first. I
must have the inspiration of the mountains before I can resolve it. Do
you know what it is?"

"Not yet."

"It is the utilizing of a great natural force. That is what all science
is trying to do now; and here is one of the mightiest forces in nature
of which nothing is made, unless it be that a few barges get floated up
and down our rivers. Do you see? The great mass of tidal force,
absolutely irresistible in its strength, punctual as the clock itself,
always to be calculated on--why should this great natural engine remain
unused?"

"But then, uncle," said a certain young lady, "if you made the tide
drive machinery at one time of the day, you would have to turn the house
round to let it drive it again as it was going back."

"Child, child!" said the inventor peevishly, "why do you tack on these
petty details to my grand conception? It is the idea I want to sell;
other people can use it. Now, will the government grant me a patent?"

"Certainly," said Violet.

"What royalty on all work executed by utilizing the tidal currents?"

"A million per cent."

"How much will that bring in?"

"Three millions a minute!"

"Ah," said he, sinking back with a sigh, "we have then reached the goal
at last. Bayswater, we approach you. Shall the brougham be bottle-green
or coffee-colored?"

"A brougham!" cried Violet; "no--a barge of white and gold, with crimson
satin sails, and oars of bronze, towed by a company of snow-white
swans----"

"Or mergansers"----

"And floating through the canals of claret which we shall set flowing in
t