"Do you think so, sir?" asked Mr. Turner, glowing with pleasure. "Well, I don't know but that he has a sort of knack with wire, nails, and queer machinery. He has tinkered with such things since he was a little lad. Of late he has been fussing round with electricity and scaring us all to death here at home. His sisters were always expecting he'd meet his end or blow up the house with some claptraption he'd put together."
Nancy blushed; then added, with a shy glance toward the Fernalds:
"They say down at the school that Ted is quite handy with telephones and such things."
"Mr. Hazen, my son's tutor, thinks your brother has a knowledge of electricity far beyond his years," replied Mr. Clarence Fernald. "That is why it seems a pity his talents in that direction should not be cultivated. Who knows but he may be an embryo genius? You never can tell what may be inside a child."
"You're right there, sir," Mr. Turner assented cordially. Then after a moment of thought, he continued, "Likely an education such as you are figuring on would cost a mint of money."
The Fernalds, both father and son, smiled at the naïve comment.
"Well—yes," confessed Mr. Clarence slowly. "It would cost something."
"A whole lot?"
"If you wanted the best."
Mr. Turner scratched his head.