“Perhaps I ought not to tell you, dear, but I don’t know. You must know some time. It was that Mr Deering. Your uncle has known him ever since they were boys at school together; and then Mr Deering, who is a great inventor, came down and told your uncle that he had at last found the means of making his fortune over a mechanical discovery, if some one would be security for him. Your uncle did not like to refuse.”
“Oh, dear!” muttered Vane.
“You see it was not to supply him with money then, only to be security, so that other people would advance him money and enable him to start his works and pay for his patents.”
“Yes, aunt, I understand,” cried Vane. “And now—”
“His invention has turned out to be a complete failure, and your poor uncle will have to pay off Mr Deering’s liabilities. When that is done, I am afraid we shall be very badly off, my dear.”
“That you shan’t, auntie,” cried Vane, quickly; “I’ll work for you both, and I’ll make a fortune somehow. I don’t see why I shouldn’t invent.”
“No, no, don’t, boy, for goodness’ sake,” said the doctor, who had heard part of the conversation as he returned. “Let’s have good hard work, my lad. Let someone else do the inventing.”
“All right, uncle,” said Vane, firmly; “I’ll give up all my wild ideas now about contriving things, and set to work.”
“That’s right, boy,” said the doctor. “I’m rather sick of hearing inventions named.”
“Don’t say that, dear,” said Aunt Hannah, quietly and firmly; “and I should not like all Vane’s aspirations to be damped because Mr Deering has failed. Some inventions succeed: the mistake seems to me to be when people take it for granted that everything must be a success.”