On the 25th of May Torrence came home rather later than usual, and the moment he entered the room I saw that something had happened. The look upon his face was one of unequivocal delight. Striking an attitude in the middle of the floor, he shouted:
"Hooray!"
"Not so loud!" I cried, "you'll disturb people in the house."
"Let them be disturbed. It's time they were disturbed," he replied, pouring himself out a glass of wine at the sideboard. Then holding the bumper aloft, exclaimed:
"Here's to the air ship; God bless her. But where's your glass?"
I joined him in the toast. "Well, what's happened?" I inquired, touching my glass to his.
"She rises; she floats; she steers. She advances and reverses, just as I please. She cuts the teeth of the wind. I tell you, Gurt, it is the triumph of the century—of the ages. A child can handle her. We shall be off in a couple of days!"
"The devil, you say! Have you had a trial trip?"
"Well, rather! but no one knows it. The truth is I took her out in the dark, before day, all alone, and had her back in the barn before any one guessed it. Arranged it all beforehand. Sent all the hands off. She responds like a leaf in a gale. We can sit in her, solid as a rock, one foot above the ground, or ten thousand, just as we please. We can float along four miles an hour, or a mile a minute. We can stand before the wind, or we can run in the teeth of a hurricane. We can right about face, or maneuver her with more ease than you could a wheelbarrow. Her power is exhaustless, and is evolved without steam, electricity or—but what's the use of going into that? You couldn't understand if I did. It would take a course of mathematics to get into the first principles; but some day, when you and I are floating away in the blue sky, above the fogs of London town, I'll take time and explain it all to you."
"At all events she's a success," I answered, finishing my wine.