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Page 41
"She took it to the shop after you had left, and only now told
me about it," explained Mrs. Baggert. "So I sent Eradicate for
it."
"How long ago was that?" asked Tom, as he took the missive.
"Oh, an hour ago," answered Mrs. Baggert, with a smile. "But
don't blame poor Rad for that. He wanted to deliver the letter to
you personally, and so did Koku. The result was your giant kept
after Rad, trying to get the letter from him, and Rad kept
hiding and slinking about for a chance to see you himself until I
saw what was going on, a little while ago, and took the letter
myself. Else you might never have gotten it, so jealous are those
two," and Mrs. Baggert laughed.
"Guess it isn't of much importance," Tom said, as he tore open
the envelope. "It's from the Universal Flying Machine Company, of
New York, and I imagine they're trying to get me to reconsider my
refusal to link up with them."
"Yes," he went on, as he read the missive, "that's it. They've
raised the amount to thirty thousand a year now, Dad, and they
say they feel sure I shall regret it if I do not accept.
"This is a bit queer, though," went on the young inventor.
"This letter was written three days ago, but it reached Shopton
only to-day. And it says that unless they hear from me at once
they will have to take steps that will cause me great
inconvenience. They have nerve, at any rate, and impudence, too!
I won't even bother to answer. But I wonder what they mean, and
why this letter was delayed?"
"The mails are all late on account of the transportation
congestion caused by moving troops to the camps," said Mr. Damon.
"Some of my letters are delayed a week. But, as you say, Tom,
these fellows are very impudent to threaten that way."
"It's all bluff," declared Tom. "I'm not worrying. And now,
Dad, since I've almost reached the top of the hill with my Air
Scout, I may be able to help you on that new electric motor
you're puzzling over."
"I wish you would, Tom. I am trying to invent a new system of
interchangeable brush contacts, but so far I've been unable to
make them work. However, there is no great hurry about that. If
you are going to offer your silent machine to the government
finish that first. We need all the aircraft we can get. The
battles on the other side seem to be all in favor of the Germans,
so far."
"We haven't got into our stride yet," declared Mr. Damon. "Once
Uncle Sam gets the boys over there in force, there'll be a
different story to tell. I only wish--"
At that moment the telephone set up an insistent ringing,
breaking in on Mr. Damon's remarks.
"I'll answer," said Tom, as Mrs. Baggert moved toward the
instrument, which was an extension from the main one.
"Hello!" called the young inventor into the transmitter, and as
he received an answer a look of pleasure came over his face.
"Yes, Mary, this is Tom," he said. He remained silent a moment,
while it was evident he was listening to the voice at the other
end of the wire. Then he suddenly exclaimed:
"What's that? Tell him to come home? Why, he isn't here. I just
came in and--what--wait a minute!"
With a rather strange look on his face Tom covered the mouth-
piece of the instrument with his hand, and, turning to his
father, asked:
"Is Mr. Nestor here?"
"No," replied Mr. Swift slowly, "He was here, though. He came a
little while after you and Mr. Damon started off in the Air
Scout. But he didn't stay. Said he wanted to see you about
something and would call again."
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