time and a great deal more money, success will come. Can you not stop deceiving yourself, can you not give up and admit that you have failed? You have a handful of screws and wires and a few turning wheels here—" he waved his hand to include the whole workshop in the scorn of a person who knows nothing of mechanics—"but what do they signify? What do they count for compared to ten years of your life, or of Miranda's?"
He leaned his elbows on the table, brought his face closer yet to his unhappy uncle's and spoke with even fiercer accusation.
"You say that you will be able to give back to Miranda the house she loves, when all that you have ever done is to destroy it for her. Have you ever looked over the ruins, as I have, noticed that the blaze was hottest at the south end, and hottest of all where your workshop stood? That was where the fire began, there can be no doubt of it. Miranda says it was lightning that set the house on fire, but—" he lowered his voice—"I know better. A spark from one of your wires, a blaze in some oily packing, that is what brought about the tragedy. You mechanical geniuses are too much in the clouds to safeguard those you pretend to love. The burning of the house was due to your own heedlessness!"
"No, no, Donald," cried the old man, driven out of his calmness at last, and with his voice betraying
