"Letter? No. What letter?"
"Th' one I writ ye about this machine."
"I don't remember—oh, yes," added Dick, quickly. He did recall among the many letters he had received recently (begging epistles most of them), one in which the writer said he would soon call to exhibit a new machine he had invented, and one which was destined to make all interested in it rich for life. But Dick thought it was just like lots of other missives he had been receiving from cranks since the advent of his wealth, and he threw it away. Now, it seemed, the letter was from Mr. Kendall.
"Is that really a perpetual motion machine?" asked Frank, who, with the other boys, was much interested in such things.
"Of course it is," replied the man. "I invented it all by myself. I'll tell ye a little about it before I unchain th' critter an' let it git t' work. Did ye fasten th' hoss, Mandy?" he asked, as his wife approached.
"Yep, Silas. Now, do be careful of that contraption. I ain't got no faith in it," she said, turning to the boys.
"No, that's jest th' way with wimmin," remarked Silas. "Yet I really invented it for her."
"How?" asked Dick.
"Wa'al, I was watchin' her churn one day, an' I thought how awful it was that wimmin had t' work so hard. So I decided, if I could invent a
