“Change?” I blew upon my cold fingers and fumbled at the chains.
“Yes. He never had much git-up to him before. But now he’s full of ideas. Rigged that water-curtain to wash the cars. Things like that. Good ideas, too.”
“A real inventor?”
“You’d be surprised. He took him two of these here electric pads that you sleep on when you got the lumbago, and made a bag of them, just right to fit round the carbureter and the manifold of his old flivver; and he keeps her all warm at night from the light-socket. No heat in his garage. No starter on his car; but he says she starts at the first whirl now.”
“That’s pretty good,” I agreed. “More power to him. I’ve no heat, either. Use one of those electric things under the hood; but Ernie’s notion is better.”
“Get him to make you one,” Forgan advised. And, the chain adjusted, I stepped in and drove away.
I was able, thus prompted by Forgan, to mark the development in Ernie during the succeeding weeks. He became steadily more alert of eye, and at the same time more confident of his own powers. One day in early spring I drove in and remarked that I had dropped a grease-cup off the forward right-hand spring.
“I’ll stick one on,” he promised. “One around here somewheres.” And added, “You won’t be using them things any more in a year or two.”
“I suppose you’re right. They’ll do away with them somehow,” I agreed.