The doctor came in too, and nodded as the different parts were explained; but as the contrivance was worked out, Vane found that he had to greatly modify his original ideas; all the same though, he brought so much perseverance to bear that the blacksmith’s objections were always overridden, and Wrench the carpenter’s growls suppressed.
One of the greatest difficulties encountered was the making the machine so self-contained that it could be placed right in the stern of the boat without any need for nails or stays.
But Vane had a scheme for every difficulty, and at last the day came when the new propeller was set up in the little workshop, and Distin, brought by curiosity, accompanied Gilmore and Macey to the induction.
Vane was nervous enough, but proud, as he took his fellow-pupils into the place, and there, in the middle, fixed upon a rough, heavy bench, stood the machine.
“Why, you never got that made for five pounds?” cried Gilmore.
“N–no,” said Vane, wincing a little, “I’m afraid it will cost nearly fifteen. I had to make some alterations.”
“Looks a rum set-out,” continued Gilmore, and Distin stood and smiled. “Oh, I say, while I remember,” cried Gilmore, “there was a little girl wanted you this morning, Dis. Said she had a message for you.”
“Oh, yes, I saw her,” said Distin, nonchalantly. “Begging—I saw her.”
“She’ll always be following you,” said Macey. “Why, that makes four times she has been after you, Dis.”
“Oh, well, poor thing, what can one do,” said Distin, hurriedly; “some mother or sister very ill, I believe. But I say, Vane,” he continued, as if eager to change the conversation, “where is this thing to go?”