"That was a pity," interrupted Mrs. McGregor.
"You'd have thought they would have been wise enough not to, wouldn't you?" Carl observed. "But I told you Samuel Crompton had no great head for business. He was trusting and decent, just the way Eli Whitney was. He had no idea people would steal his invention. So when the mill owners and factory folks came surging to his house, he not only let them see the loom but even allowed some of them to try it when they wrote out a promise or pledged their word that they would pay him for the privilege."
Mrs. McGregor shook her head.
"I'm afraid," said she, "that was all he ever heard of the money."
"Of course it was, Ma! Evidently you know more about human nature than poor Crompton did. He was utterly amazed when they wouldn't pay up. And when there were others mean enough to hide in the room over his workshop, bore holes in the floor, and spy down at the magic machine, all was lost."
"He held no patent, then?"
"He hadn't one thing to protect him. The sharks just came down on him, grabbed his idea, and walked away with it unmolested," answered Carl.
"Oh, that was pitiful—pitiful!" exclaimed Mrs. McGregor, laying aside her work.
"It was a darn shame!" echoed her son.
"And the Cromptons never got any money at all?" asked Mary.