Johnny stared. Here indeed was a strange offer. He was to sit in the Chinese Chamber of Commerce, as he had often sat before, admiring the ancient, green-eyed dragon, while Wung Lu, the rich and wise one, sat in his corner contemplating a large portly Buddha. He was to take pictures of the wise one’s thoughts.
“Wung Lu thinks much.” Tao Sing spoke slowly. “He talks little.”
Johnny knew this to be true. Wung Lu smiled often. He seldom spoke.
“No great thought should be allowed to perish.” The little man was quoting some Chinese proverb.
“I’ll do it,” said Johnny quite suddenly.
“All right. Here, I will show you.” Soon Johnny was lost to the world in his study of the invention he believed to be the most marvelous in existence.
A half hour later, as he marched home with a mysterious package under his arm, his mind was overflowing with the strangest, weirdest plans. How many things there were that he truly wished to know! Now he would get them from the minds of others without asking questions. There were secrets too that required no end of scheming to uncover. Now it would be no trouble at all.
“And those stories I have been planning to write for the Sentinel!” (The Sentinel was the little city’s weekly newspaper.) He was fairly bubbling over with enthusiasm. “Never have to write them at all now; just prop that old thought-camera up against the books on my table, get all set to look right at it, start it going, think the story through. And there you have it. All that’s left is to copy it down from the thought picture. How simple! How grand! How—”
He broke short off. Arrived at his own door, he had all but tumbled into Meggy Strawn who had been waiting for him there.
“Meg!” he muttered. “I—I beg your pardon.”