“What’s what?” Johnny’s voice trembled slightly.
“Sounds a little like a new sort of cricket,” the old man rumbled.
“Nothing I guess.” Johnny snapped off his thought-camera. The sound ceased. “Well, guess I’ll go up,” he said in as steady a tone as he could command. “Goodnight!”
“Goodnight, Johnny.”
The boy fairly ran up the stairs. He was obliged to drop into a chair in his room to calm himself. Then, after shaking his fingers to loosen their tenseness, he went about the business of the hour.
Having removed the small cartridge containing the long, thread-like film, he set it revolving in that other magic box that was supposed to develop and finish it. Two minutes of this and the thing was done. Or was it?
Drawing one long deep breath, Johnny placed the film in the microscope-like affair, then started the mechanism.
For ten seconds he stood there squinting into the brass tube, spellbound. Then he exclaimed, “Hot diggity dog!”
After that, for a full fifteen minutes his thoughts were focussed upon the thing before him. In that quarter hour he ran the film through three times.
“Nothing,” he murmured as at last he sank into a chair, “nothing could be half so marvelous!”