The idea was so far from his wishes that he shook it away at once; he could not even bear to think of it.
But the postman came not, and it was now ten o'clock. He remembered with pain that the day before he had passed by at half-past nine.
"I must attend to my work," he thought, "he will come presently." He went about the greenhouse, watering his plants, but every other minute he opened the door and anxiously watched for the bringer of good news to put in an appearance.
He came at last. He handed a letter to Frank who ran towards him to receive it.
"You seem very much in earnest," remarked the postman, "maybe it's a love-letter. And from London too," he added noticing the post mark.
"I'm not so foolish as that," said Frank; as if such letters were below his dignity; "this is about an invention which I am going to have patented."
The postman showed the whites of his eyes, then turned on his heels and continued his journey.
Frank tore open the envelope, unfolded the letter and read:—
"London.
"We are in receipt of your letter of the 3rd instant, and have much pleasure in informing you that your invention has not, to our best knowledge, been patented or manufactured.