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Updated: May 9, 2025
Amidships on the craft, the general construction of which is familiar to readers of foregoing volumes of this series, was a square metal box with small wires leading to long copper wires stretched from end to end of the Wondership's body. These long copper wires were to form the aërials by which the messages from Mr. Chadwick's workshop were to be caught.
Later in the day he received a summons to the bedroom where Mr. Chadwick's son was being carefully nursed. Leonard Chadwick, about the same age as his rescuer, had never deigned to pay much attention to Humplebee, whom he regarded as stupid and plebeian; but the boy's character was marked by a generous impulsiveness, which came out strongly in the present circumstances.
He sat on a stool in Mr. Chadwick's office, a clerk at a trifling salary. Everything, his father reminded him, must have a beginning; let him work well and his progress would be rapid. Two years passed and he was in much the same position; his salary had increased by one half, but his work remained the same, mechanical, dreary, hateful to him in its monotony.
But true to human nature, they were looking toward higher things than a groom in livery. When there was no more room for bundles, the women started for Mrs. Chadwick's apartments. Said Mrs. Chadwick in French: "Where, in the name of uncommon things, did you find such a handsome groom?" "I was rather lucky," replied Miss Annesley in the same tongue. "Don't you see something familiar about him?"
"And do you exist somewhere, or is this a 'situation' calculated to delight the American girl with pin-money to spend on Messrs. Herring, Beemer, & Chadwick's publications?" "I do exist," I replied, meekly; for, I must confess it, I realized more than ever that Miss Andrews was too much for me, and I heartily wished I was well out of it. "And I alone am responsible for this.
Probably she had happened to catch some echo of Thomas Chadwick's great rolling voice. The servant retired. "Good-evening, m'm," said Thomas Chadwick, raising his hat airily. "Good-evening." He beamed. "So you did find it?" said Mrs Vernon, calmly smiling. "I felt sure it would be all right." "Oh, yes, m'm."
They hurried across the broad lawn that intervened between the workshops and the orchard where the newly erected shed stood, and which, it had been given out, was to serve for the storage of gasoline. Unlocking the door, they found inside an apparatus resembling in almost every detail the one in Mr. Chadwick's workshop.
Chadwick's convenient title for the Age of the Migrations chieftains and gods probably retained some vestiges of the functions they had exercised in more normal and settled times; and besides we must always realize that, in these inquiries, we never meet a simple and uniform figure. We must further remember that these gods are not real people with a real character. They never existed.
The question of Chadwick's true time of life was, doubtless, what came up quickest after the adjournment of the two, when the play was over, to a cafe in the Avenue de l'Opera.
When the holidays came, no boy was so glad as Humplebee; his heart sang within him as he turned his back upon the school and began the journey homeward. That home was in the town illuminated by Mr. Chadwick's commercial and municipal brilliance; over a small draper's shop in one of the outskirt streets stood the name of Humplebee the draper.
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