The model was as intricate as a clock, and there were endless little difficulties to combat; but there was something so fascinating in the task as the bright brass wheels were placed in order, and it begat such an intense longing to see it in motion, executing in miniature the great desire of Hallett’s life, that we forgot all about time, and kept steadily on till there were only a few screws to insert and nuts to tighten, and the task would be done.
Hallett looked up at me as he re-trimmed the lamp by which we worked, and I across the table at him, laughing at his puzzled face, for we had unconsciously been at work over three hours, and it was past two.
“This is dreadful, Antony,” he exclaimed, with a comical look of chagrin on his face. “I seem fated to lead you into all sorts of dissipation. What are we to do? I cannot let you go home so late as this. You must lie down here.”
“I’m not a bit sleepy,” I said, “but I am hungry.”
“Then you shall have some supper,” he said dreamily, and with his eyes fixed upon his model, forgetting me the next moment, as with his dexterous fingers he tried the action of one or other of the wheels.
“It’s a pity to leave it now,” I cried.
“Yes, yes,” he said with a sigh; “it is a pity: but it must be left. I dare—”
He ceased talking, becoming completely abstracted in his task of screwing on a nut, and without speaking I helped and watched and helped until quite an hour and a half more had glided by, when with a look of triumph he stood erect, for the task was done.
“She’s finished, Antony,” he cried, and in the elate eager face before me I seemed to see some one quite different to the stern, quiet compositor I met daily at the great printing-office by Fetter Lane.
I was as delighted as he, and together we stood gazing down at the bright, beautiful bit of mechanism—the fruit of years of toil and endless thought; but as I gazed at it a strange dull feeling of anxiety came over me, and I glanced timorously at Hallett, for the thought flashed across my mind: