CHAPTER III.
AUNT MERCY.
"Good evening, Aunty."
"Good evening, Edmund Burton."
Aunt Mercy was sipping a cup of tea, and reading the evening paper.
"What's the news, Aunty?"
"Another railroad accident, of course."
"Nobody hurt, I hope?"
"Yes; a great many. I wonder that anybody's foolhardy enough to ride on the railroads."
"How did it happen?" said Ned, beginning to think it was a poor time to get money for a railroad invention.
"Train ran off the track," said Aunt Mercy, "and ran right down an embankment. Seems to me they always do. I don't see why they have so many embankments."
"They ought not to," said Ned. "If they only knew it, there's a way to make a railroad without any track, or any wheels to run off the track, or any embankment to run down if they did run off."
"You don't say so, Edmund Burton! What sort of a railroad would that be?"
"I happen to have the plan of one with me," said Ned.
"Edmund Burton! What do you mean?"
"I mean this," said Ned, pulling from his pocket the little frame with a rubber string stretched on it. "It's a new invention; hasn't been patented yet."
"Edmund Burton!" was all his aunt could say.
"I'll explain it to you, Aunty," said Ned, as he picked up the newspaper which she had dropped, and rolled it into a tube.
"This," said he, "represents a tunnel, a big round hole, you know, as big as this room, bored along in the ground. It goes right through rocks and everything, and is perfectly straight. No dangerous curves. And this"—showing the frame and then passing it into the paper tube—"represents an India-rubber cable as large as a stove-pipe. It is stretched out as far as possible, and fastened tight to posts at the ends."
"Edmund Burton!"
"Now, Aunty, we'll call this end Albany, and this end Buffalo."
"Edmund Burton!"
"All the men and boys in Albany that want to go to Buffalo could come down to the depot, and get on the cable right there, sitting just as if they were on horseback, and there will be nice little straps for them to hold on by."
"Edmund Burton!"
"When everybody's ready, the train-despatcher just picks up a sharp axe, and with one blow cuts the cable in two, right here, and zip! the passengers find themselves in Buffalo. No boiler to burst, no track to get off from, no embankment to plunge down, no wheels to get out of order."
"Edmund Burton, you are a genius! But ladies can't ride that way."
"Of course not," said Ned, catching an idea. "We have a car for the ladies. This"—and he picked up a spool of thread and a lead pencil, and passed the pencil through the spool—"represents it. The pencil represents the cable, and the spool represents the car, which is fastened tight on the cable. When the ladies are all in, it is locked up, and then the cable is cut behind it."
"Edmund Burton!"
"And the great advantage of it is, that the car is perfectly round, and so whichever way it might happen to turn, it would always be right side up, for every side is the right side!"
"Edmund Burton, you are a genius!"
"But you mustn't tell anybody about it, Aunty, for it hasn't been patented yet."
"Why don't you patent it, Edmund Burton?"
"We think of doing so, Aunty, but it will cost more money than we have just now. The first thing is to get up a model."
"What's that, Edmund Burton?"
"A little one, with tunnel and everything complete, to show how it works. That has to go to the Patent-Office and be put in a glass case."
"And how much will it cost to make a muddle, Edmund Burton?"
"Fay says he thinks one could be made for ten dollars; but I suppose more money would build a better one."
"Your brother knows nothing about it, Edmund Burton. He would get up a miserable cheap muddle, and disgrace the family. Don't let him have anything to do with it. Jane!"—calling to the servant—"bring me my pocket-book from the right-hand corner of my top bureau drawer."
Jane brought it.
"How much will it take for a good muddle, Edmund Burton?" said his Aunt Mercy, as she opened her pocket-book.
"I should think fifteen dollars ought to be a great plenty," said Ned, and she handed him a crisp new ten-dollar bill and a five.
"Thank you, Aunty."
"You're welcome, child. Always come to me when you want money to make a muddle. But mind what I tell you, Edmund Burton. Don't let that numskull brother of yours have anything to do with it, and be sure you get up a handsome muddle that will do credit to the family."
"Yes, Aunty. Good-night!"
"Good-night! But come and kiss me before you go, Edmund Burton."
"Don't you think," said Ned, as we were walking home, "before Fay goes any further with this invention, and spends money on it, he'd better talk with somebody who knows more about such things than we do?"
I didn't quite know whether Ned said this because he was really anxious about the fate of the invention, or because he did not like to part with the money, now that he actually had it. Some people are always ready to say that they would lend money to a friend, if they had it; but when they feel it in their hands, they are not in such a hurry to let it go out. However, I thought this was a good idea, whatever might be Ned's reason for suggesting it; so I said, "Certainly, he ought! Who do you think would be the best person for him to talk with?"
"I don't know anybody better than Jack-in-the-Box," said Ned. "Of course he knows all about railroads."
"Of course he does," said I, "and he'll be glad to help us. Jack-in-the-Box is the very one!"