"Do you think I have a color, too, daddy?" he asked.
"Yes, Peter. Take your place."
Peter did so.
For him there grew a tongue of sturdy bronze. In the dim light it waved across the surface of the glass plate.
And Mr. Procter said: "In time our little boy Peter will build great bridges."
"That four horses can walk across, daddy?" Peter cried in ecstasy.
"That a hundred horses can walk across, and a big engine pull safely its train of cars."
Then again into the inventor's eyes leaped a radiance. He placed his hand lovingly upon the machine as though it were alive, and indeed so it seemed to be, for into it he had put his finest ideals, his deepest hopes for the development of man.
"A few months more of work," he cried. "And then it will be ready to give to the world."
Someone came lightly up the stairs. A head appeared, then a body, then a hearty voice: "May I come in?" it asked.