"If you are willing."
The inventor drew from his pocket a typewritten letter, and showed it to Scott. It ran thus:
"Mr. Henry Babcock.
"Dear Sir: I have thought over the small invention you showed me yesterday. I doubt if there is any money in it, but as I presume you are in want, I will give you thirty-five dollars for it. I can stand the small loss, and it will tide you over till you can get a position that will support you.
"Yours truly,
"Ezra Little."
"Mr. Little is not very liberal," said Scott, smiling.
"No," answered the inventor, bitterly. "Think of the year's labor I have spent upon it, and the prospect before me if I accept this paltry sum. With economy it would last me a month, and then what would become of me?"
"True; but there are other men besides Mr. Little, who might perhaps deal with you more generously."
"You are right, but I don't think you understand my position. My available funds are reduced to two dollars. Sometimes in my desperation I have thought I would go down to Brooklyn Bridge, and end it all. I think I should have done so but for one thing."
"What is that?" asked Scott, beginning to show a strong personal interest in his unfortunate visitor.
"I have a little daughter—four years old. I must live for her."