, what is it," she cried, as she reached him. His eyes,
half frightened, half elated, looked into hers.

"I will show you," he cried. He took her hand and led her to The Machine
before which Suzanna still sat.

The wave of color still persisted on the glass. "See," he said,
"registered color, for which I have worked and worked, died a thousand
deaths of despair, and been resurrected to hope. This afternoon the
color seemed promised, and so in fear and trembling I placed Suzanna
before the machine."

"Oh, my dear, my dear, after all these years!" She lifted her face and
kissed him solemnly.

And then Peter repeated his question, to which before there had been no
answer.

"What does the color mean, daddy?" he asked.

"Two colors recording in that manner means great versatility; purple
means the artist, probably a writer."

Peter looked his bewilderment. His mother, smiling a little, reduced the
explanation to simpler form. Even then Peter was befogged.

The inventor went to a remote corner and brought forth a large book
containing many pages. This he placed upon a small table, and the
children and their mother crowded about him, eager to see and to hear.

Mr. Procter lit a side lamp so the light fell upon the book, then he
turned the pages slowly. Blocks of color lay upon each, some in squares
alone, some merging into others like a disjointed rainbow. Above each
block, or merged block, were writings, interpretations of color meaning,
word above word; many erasures, as though fresh thought thrust out the
integrity of early ones.

Mr. Procter spoke to his wife. "Till the machine showed the
possibilities of ultimate success, I have said nothing even to you of
its inception. Now, however, I may speak.

"It may sound strange, but from the time I was a very young boy, I've
seen others in color. That is, a vivid personality never failed to
translate itself in purple to me; a pale one in blue. It was out of that
spiritual sight that I built my theory of color. It took me years, but
time after time have I proved to my own complete satisfaction that each
individual has a keynote of color; a color explaining his purpose."

A thousand questions of details, of practicalities that his theory did
not seem in the rough to touch, rushed to Mrs. Procter's lips; but she
could not voice one, she could not quench his uplifted expression and,
indeed, so great was her belief in him that she had faith that he would
overcome all ob