“That’s the best of the lot,” said Rob, thrusting his hands into his pockets and sprawling his legs across the floor. “I’ve still got hopes of that. It’s a patent match safe to carry in your pocket. It looks just like any other match safe, but when you want a match you don’t have to open it. You just push a little button, and a match pops out. Maybe I’ll sell that yet. It’s a mighty good idea, and there ought to be money in it.”
“I should think you’d want to be an inventor instead of an engineer.”
“There isn’t much money in inventions, except for the patent lawyer; at least, that’s what Dad says. Besides, engineering is a good deal like inventing. You have problems to solve, and there’s always the chance of discovering a better way to do a thing. Dad says I’ve got a good deal of ingenuity, but that if I don’t look out I’ll never be anything but a potterer.”
“A potterer? That’s a funny name for you.”
“Yes; he means a chap who just potters around doing a lot of little things that don’t amount to anything. How’s your head?”
“Much better. Do you think I’d better unpack my bag, or shall I wait until I’m sure about my room?”
“Go ahead and unpack. It’ll be all right. Even if it isn’t, 36 is just across the hall, and I’ll help you carry things over. Trunks ought to be up pretty soon, too. Say, do you go in for anything?”
“In for anything?” repeated Evan, doubtfully.
“Yes, foot-ball or hockey or track or rowing or—”
[“I play foot-ball,” answered Evan. “I want to try for the team here.] Do you think I’d stand any show, Langton?”