'What is the matter?' she inquired. 'I want to make something.'
'Why, then, don't you make it?'
'Because I don't know what it shall be; I've fixed up everything I can think of.'
'And you are like Alexander, sighing for more worlds to conquer. Is that it?'
'Not exactly, for there is plenty for one to do, if I could only find out what it is.'
'Have you ever made a balloon?' The boy laughed.
'You were asking for the cat the other day, and wondering what had become of her. I didn't tell you that the last I saw of her was through the telescope, she being about two miles up in the clouds, and going about fifty miles an hour.'
'I thought you looked as though you knew something about her,' replied the mother, trying to speak reprovingly, and yet smiling in spite of herself.
'Can't you tell me something to make?' finally asked the boy.
'Yes; there is something I have often thought of, and wonder why it was not made long ago; but you are not smart enough to do it, Johnny.'