was the thread made? That was the next question!"

"And the Cromptons didn't tell, of course."

"That's where you're wrong, Mary Ann! I wish they hadn't; but they
did."

"That was a pity," interrupted Mrs. McGregor.

"You'd have thought they would have been wise enough not to, wouldn't
you?" Carl observed. "But I told you Samuel Crompton had no great head
for business. He was trusting and decent, just the way Eli Whitney was.
He had no idea people would steal his invention. So when the mill
owners and factory folks came surging to his house, he not only let
them see the loom but even allowed some of them to try it when they
wrote out a promise or pledged their word that they would pay him for
the privilege."

Mrs. McGregor shook her head.

"I'm afraid," said she, "that was all he ever heard of the money."

"Of course it was, Ma! Evidently you know more about human nature than
poor Crompton did. He was utterly amazed when they wouldn't pay up. And
when there were others mean enough to hide in the room over his
workshop, bore holes in the floor, and spy down at the magic machine,
all was lost."

"He held no patent, then?"

"He hadn't one thing to protect him. The sharks just came down on him,
grabbed his idea, and walked away with it unmolested," answered Carl.

"Oh, that was pitiful--pitiful!" exclaimed Mrs. McGregor, laying aside
her work.

"It was a darn shame!" echoed her son.

"And the Cromptons never got any money at all?" asked Mary.

"Not then, anyhow."

"Well, at least Mr. Crompton had the joy of doing what he set out to
do--nobody could take that satisfaction away from him," mused Mrs.
McGregor.

"Yes, but would that have consoled you for finding that people were so
low-down?" answered Carl with scorn. "I'll bet that one fact
disappointed him more than the loss of the money. It would me."

"Greed, I regret to say, sonny, is at the bottom of most of the evils
of the world," retorted his mother sadly. "What finally became of the
Cromptons?"

"Oh, the whole thing got on Crompton's nerves and he moved to another
town where he buried himself," Carl answered. "After a while, though,
he came back to Bolton because he needed money and opened a little
factory there. It ran along for almost ten years, doing business on a
small scale. Imagine it! Then in 1800 some Manchester manufacturers
(who had probably got rich on his invention and whose consciences
troubled them most likely) collected a purse fo