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Updated: May 13, 2025
"Ah, it is easily seen you did not live in early colonial days," smiled McPhearson. "A clock-jack, sonny, is a contrivance for roasting meat." "Roasting meat!" repeated the lad incredulously. "But what had a man of Willard's genius to do with roasting meat?" "Perhaps a good deal," the Scotchman answered.
Minerva C. Welch, Mrs. Dora Phelps Buell, Mrs. Honora McPhearson, Mrs. Lucy I. Harrington, Mrs. Katherine Tipton Hosmer, 1918. Three of these presidents have passed over the range, Mrs. Routt, wife of the former Governor; Mrs. Patterson, wife of U. S. Senator Thomas M. Patterson, and Professor Ammons, who established the department of domestic science in the Colorado Agricultural College.
"And then did he bring it to London?" was Christopher's breathless demand. "Yes," affirmed McPhearson. "The contrivance, however, was by no means perfect. Still it showed sufficient promise to interest the commissioners and lead them to give Harrison permission to go to Lisbon on one of the king's ships; that he might correct his reckonings by taking practical observations at sea.
A clock neither wants nor needs a rest. On the contrary it is never so happy as when it is ticking. The woman who stopped her clock nights so it should not be wearing out the works did it no kindness." A peal of appreciative laughter came from Christopher. McPhearson reached for a small traveling clock and unscrewed the back of it. "Humph!" sniffed he. "Solid with dirt!
His heart beat until it seemed as if the stranger opposite must hear its throbbing and take warning. If only it were possible to alight from the bus without exciting attention, maybe he and McPhearson could get an officer. He sadly wanted somebody's help and advice. The adventure was one he felt to be too big for him to handle alone.
"Great Scott! Why, I never dreamed there was so much to clockmaking!" gasped the astonished Christopher. "Oh, the making of a finely adjusted, close-running clock is far more of a science than a trade, laddie. It isn't just making a lot of wheels that will turn, hands that will point, or a mechanism that will tick wonderful as all that is," asserted McPhearson.
On investigation, however, it proved that Mr. Hawley was not at home. "He done gone to some board meeting this morning," explained the colored butler. "And sorry enough he'll be to miss you too, Mr. McPhearson, for he always likes havin' a talk with you." "Which clock is it this time, Ebenezer?" "Number Seventeen, sir," answered the darky gravely. "She done been kickin' up something vexatious.
"So McPhearson has made a collection of those old watch-papers, has he!" mused he. "Maybe he would loan them to us and let us exhibit them here at the store sometime. They are quite rare now and would be interesting." "I think he would be tremendously pleased to do so, Dad," responded Christopher. "He is far too modest ever to suggest doing it himself."
"It is over a hundred years old already." "Yes. And considering it is, don't you think, Ebenezer, it has earned the right to a little independence?" McPhearson inquired of the darky, a twinkle in his eye. But Ebenezer shook his head. "Mr. Hawley done say no clock can go strikin' by herself no matter how old she is," Ebenezer asserted, without hint of a smile.
"I think we'll have to get out," he said suddenly. "I don't feel well." McPhearson wheeled on him, amazed. "What's the matter?" "My my breakfast, I guess. Can you stop the car?" "Do you mean you want to get out right here?" "Yes. I'm dizzy. If I can get some air " "Not going to faint away, are you?" queried the Scotchman in consternation. "I no I guess not."
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