"No," said the boy, "I have swore off on mouldy prunes. I am no
kinder-garden any more. For years I have eaten rotten peaches around this
store, and everything you couldn't sell, but I have turned over a new leaf
now, and after this nothing is too good for me. Since Pa has got to be an
inventor, we are going to live high."
"What's your Pa invented? I saw a hearse and three hacks go up on your
street the other day and I thought may be you had killed your Pa."
"Not much. There will be more than three hacks when I kill Pa, and don't
you forget it. Well, sir, Pa has struck a fortune, if he can make the
thing work. He has got an idea about coal stoves that will bring him
several million dollars, if he gets a royalty of five dollars on every
cook stove in the world. His idea is to have a coal stove on castors with
the pipe made to telescope out and in, and rubber hose for one joint, so
you can pull the stove all around the room and warm any particular place.
Well, sir, to hear Pa tell about it, you would think it would
revolutionize the country, and maybe it will when he gets it perfected,
but he came near burning the house up, and scared us half to death this
morning, and burned his shirt off, and he is all covered with cotton with
sweet oil on, and he smells like salad dressing.
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