hinery which struck him as falling
short of perfection. It was a very simple thing which he had attempted,
but in machinery, as in many other things, trifles are all-important,
and it was a triumph indeed that a lad of nineteen should have hit on an
improvement which was considered worth a trial.

Dr Trevor and his wife exchanged smiles of happy satisfaction. They
yearned to ask a dozen more questions, but refrained out of sympathy
with that natural masculine reserve which they understood so well.
Betty, however, was less considerate.

"I do think you might tell us a little more about it, Miles!" she cried
resentfully. "You know we are all dying of curiosity. I can't think
why it is that boys can never give a decent account of anything that has
happened! Now, if it had been me, I should have begun at the very
beginning, from the moment I entered the works, and told you how I felt
as I went upstairs, and how I began to speak to the manager, and what he
said, and how he looked, and--"

"What colour of necktie he wore--"

Betty tossed her head in scornful contempt of the burst of laughter
evoked by Miles' words.

"And what he did with the screw, or whatever you call it, when you
showed it to him, and what the other men said, and-- Oh, dozens of
interesting things; but you can say nothing but `all right' to every
single question. It _is_ dull!"

"You must allow for diversities of talent, Betty," said Mrs Trevor,
laughing. "We do not all possess your powers of description. Miles is
very modest over his success, and I, like you, want to hear more
details. You must be sure to tell us how the trial works, Son; and if
your improvement is permanently adopted, I shall be proud!"

"Nothing to be proud of!" muttered Miles into his plate.

If there was one thing he loathed more than another, it was to be
praised and petted, and made the centre of attention. His roughened
fingers clenched themselves tightly round the knife and fork, and he cut
his beef into pieces with savage energy.

Why couldn't they leave a fellow alone? All this fuss about a bit of a
cog!

Betty divined his discomfiture, as she divined all that concerned her
beloved brother, but she had not the tact to come to the rescue, and it
was Jill who turned the conversation by a casual question which yet was
of interest to all the family.

"Father, is there a father at the big house at the corner? We can't
decide what's the matter with him. There