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Updated: May 15, 2025
"Perhaps," admitted the young inventor. "Well, Dad, I'll think of it. But now I'm going after my rifle, and " Tom was interrupted by a ring of the front-door bell, and Mrs. Baggert, the housekeeper, who was almost like a mother to the youth, went to answer it. "It's Ned Newton, I guess," murmured Tom, and, a little later, his chum entered the room. "Oh, I guess I'm early," said Ned.
"Drop me a line when you get a chance." "Oh, Tom, do be careful," implored Mrs. Baggert, her kind face showing her anxiety. "May I kiss you good-by?" "Of course," answered the young inventor, though the motherly housekeeper had not done this since he was a little chap.
"But we'll forget about it all, now you're out," remarked Ned. "And the sooner we get home, the better," added Tom. "Can't you get a little more speed out of this machine?" he asked. "Well, it isn't the Hawk," replied Ned, "but we'll see what we can do," and he made the runabout fairly fly. Mrs. Baggert was the first to greet Tom as they arrived at his home.
He was a prisoner in the water compartment, and he knew, from past experience, that shout as he would, his voice could not be heard ten feet away. His father and Mr. Sharp, as he was aware, had gone to a nearby city for some tools, and Mr. Jackson, the engineer, was temporarily away. Mrs. Baggert, in the house, could not hear his cries. "I'm locked in!" cried Tom aloud.
Swift was also an inventor of note, and Tom soon followed in his father's footsteps. They lived in a large house, with many shops about it, for their work at times required much machinery. Mrs. Baggert was the housekeeper who looked after Tom and his father, and got their meals, when they consented to take enough time from their inventive work to eat.
"'Cause ef I didn't," explained the colored man, "dat contrary mule ob mine would lay down in de dust ob de road an' not move a step, lessen' he got his oats. So dat's why we has t' eat, him an' me." "Well, I'm glad there's some one who's got sense," murmured Mrs. Baggert.
Tom Swift was the son of an inventor, and not only inherited his father's talents, but had greatly added to them, so that now Tom had a wonderful reputation. Mr. Swift was a widower, and he and Tom lived in a big house in Shopton, New York State, with Mrs. Baggert for a housekeeper.
Risking your lives in those aeroplanes!" exclaimed Mrs. Baggert. "Why, they're safer than street cars!" declared Tom with a laugh. "Just think how often street cars collide, and you never heard of an aeroplane doing that." "No, but think what happens when they fall." "That's it!" cried Tom gaily, "when they fall you don't have time to think. But is dinner ready? I'm hungry."
He could observe nothing, as the night was dark, and the new moon, which had been shining, was now dimmed by clouds. "See anything?" asked Mr. Gunmore as he advanced to Tom's side. "No," was the low answer. "I can't hear anything now, either." "I'll go speak to Mrs. Baggert, the housekeeper," volunteered Mr. Swift. "Perhaps it was she, or she may know something about it."
"I wish I had thought to get between him and the window. Then he couldn't have gotten away." "He might have injured you, though," said Mr. Jackson. "We'll go outside now, and look " "Is any one killed? Are you both murdered?" cried Mrs. Baggert at the dining-room door. "If any one is killed I'm not coming in there. I can't bear the sight of blood." "No one is hurt," declared Tom with a laugh.
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