“What is it?” asked Evan, as he took it and examined it curiously.
“Just a—a combined tool, as you might say. I call it ‘Langton’s Pocket Friend.’ Here’s a screw-driver; see? And these notches are for breaking glass after it’s cut. Up here there’s a little steel wheel for cutting it, only I haven’t put that in. This is just a model, you know; I filed it out coming down on the train this morning. Then this slot is for sharpening pencils. There’s a nail-file here, you see, only it isn’t filed, of course, because this is just brass. The spur is for cutting wire, or you can open a can with it if the tin isn’t very thick. Then this end here is to open envelops or cut pages with. There are two or three other things I’ve thought of since that I can work in. Of course, if I ever made them, they’d be of steel.”
“That’s fine,” said Evan. “Did you think of it yourself?”
“Yes. I’m always tinkering with some silly thing. That’s the reason I don’t cut more of a figure with studies, I guess. Dad has patented two or three things for me, but I’ve never been able to sell the patents.”
“What are they?” asked Evan, interestedly.
“One’s a snow shovel made of wire netting like an ash sifter. It only weighs twelve ounces and works finely. But no one would buy it. Another’s a top with a slot just above the peg so you can put in a cap. Then when you throw it on the ground the peg comes up against the cap and explodes it.”
“I should think that would be a dandy idea.”
“Well, one man I tried to sell it to said if I could induce boys to spin tops around the Fourth of July he would buy my patent. You see, folks are so fussy now that you can’t buy paper caps except around the Fourth.”
“I see. And what was the other thing?”