*I*
"How long will you be, Bob?"
"Can't say: perhaps twenty minutes. You needn't shout."
"Jolly sensitive, ain't you? What about my tender spots? After I'vetaken the trouble to write to your Aunt Caroline for your address, andgot it, with yards and yards of advice to a young man, and thensacrificed a day of my leave to hunt you up, you won't spare a jiff totalk to a fellow, and when I ask you a civil question, tell me not toshout, with the wind roaring like a barrage, and that wretched machinesqueaking like----"
"Oh, come now, Tom, that's not fair!" said Templeton. "I told you Imust finish grinding these valves, then I'm free. And as for talking, Ican hear you quite well; that's all that matters, isn't it?"
"Been cultivating repartee with your C.O., I suppose," remarked Eves."Or else your naturally amiable disposition has broken down under thetender mercies of the Boche. Aunt Caroline warned me, I admit: said youhad undergone great mental strain, underlined, and were feverishlyanxious to repair your wasted life, underlined twice. What did the Bochedo to you, Bobby, old man?"
"Tell you by and by: must finish this job."
Eves sighed with resignation, and looked round for a seat. There wasnothing available except a bench along the wall, littered with tools andodds and ends of machinery. Being also plentifully besmeared with blackgrease, it looked far from inviting, especially as Eves was wearing anew pair of slacks; but he cleared a space large enough to affordsitting room, and taking the outer sheets of a newspaper that lay handy,spread them on the board, seated himself thereon, and opened the innersheet to kill time until Templeton should have finished his job.
Tom Eves, whose cap bore the badge of a certain regiment of LightInfantry, was in the final stage of convalescence from wounds receivedin action before Amiens. While in hospital he had learnt thatTempleton, taken a prisoner in the early days of the Germans' springoffensive, was among the first batch of officers repatriated under theterms of the armistice, and on applying to Miss Templeton for hernephew's address, was astonished and amused to hear that he was hard atwork in a little Dorset town within easy reach.
"Just like old Bob!" he said to himself. "Two months' leave! Andinstead of playing the giddy goat, as any sensible fellow would do inhis place, he feels he must make up for lost time and swot away at hisold inventions. With a good balance at Cox's, too. Aunt Caroline saysshe quite approves of his spending his money in preparation for hiscareer--just the sort of thing she would say! Well, I'll look him up,the old juggins, first leave I have!"
Templeton, in fact, taking his usual serious view of things in generaland his inventions in particular, had been unable to reconcile himselfto the prospect of two months' idleness, after having kicked his heelsfor seven months in a prisoners' camp, months during which his brain hadteemed with "notions." There was the two-way motor; the turbine motor;an automatic fire extinguisher; a sound increaser; a combined tin-openerand fountain pen, with corkscrew attachment; a road yacht; a push andpull door-handle. Aunt Caroline was so much impressed with the potentialpublic utility of the bright ideas he expounded to her, that she placedL25 to his credit with Cox's, and warmly commended him when he told herthat he had found a field for his experiments in the little town ofPudlington. "A _delightful_ spot!" she said, in her emphatic way. "Aquaint old town, quite _charming_! And _such_ invigorating air!" Themanager of the British Motor Garage, just outside the town aforesaid,had agreed to give Templeton facilities for experimenting in exchangefor his services--an arrangement that suited with his own and his aunt'sideas of economy. Wilkins, the manager, was short-handed: indeedTempleton found himself more often than not in sole charge of thegarage, for Wilkins was frequently absent, driving his only serviceablecar for the officers of the camp a few miles away. Thus, when Eves madehis appearance on this bright, windy December morning, he found his oldfriend, encased in the blue overalls of a mechanic, alone in therepairing shop, and engrossed in the job he had in hand.
For a few minutes Eves read the newspaper, without addressing anyfurther remark to Templeton.
"I say, Bob!" he exclaimed at last, "here's a chance for you.... Allright--I won't shout, but listen! 'G.R.--Notice. Tenders for thepurchase of waste from the Upper Edgecombe Camp should reach the OfficerCommanding not later than noon on Thursday, December 12.' Fortunes havebeen made out of waste. Perhaps you have tendered already: I see thepaper's nearly a week old."
"I haven't," replied Templeton, curtly.
"Well, you're not a rag and bone merchant, it's true, but----"
"Considering that to-day's the 12th, and it's just on eleven now, it'stoo late to tender, even if I wanted to."
"Which you don't! _My_ bright ideas are always nipped in the bud. Isay, Bob, was there anything in that story we heard in our mess atCorbie--that idea of yours, you know?"
"Which one?" asked Templeton, pausing for a moment in his task. He wasalways interested in ideas.
"Well, they said you were showing off one of your inventions to a brasshat--some sort of a door-handle, I think it was--and he got fixed up ina dug-out, and you couldn't release him for three hours or so, and hegot no lunch. Everybody said it was a splendid rag."
"Idiots!"
"But wasn't it true? The story ran through the front line trenches forthirty miles or so, and bucked the men up no end."
"It wasn't a rag at all. The fact is, the staff-major was tooimpatient. He wouldn't wait till I'd finished explaining the idea, andthe result was what you might have expected. It was his own fault--theidea's all right."
"What about your gas machine, then?"
"Well, what about it?" The inventor was roused: he stood facing Eves,with the air of a cat whose fur has been rubbed the wrong way.
"The story that came to us was that you nearly caused a vacancy in thecommand of your battalion. Everybody said you were taking a short cutto getting your second pip."
"Asses!" growled Templeton. "The explanation simply is that a screw wasa trifle loose----"
"Now nobody said that, Bob, I assure you. Everybody said you were anawfully clever chap, only----"
"I tell you a screw was a bit loose, owing to the lack of suitableappliances, and the gas came out a second or two before it ought. Andthe C.O. needn't have put his nose quite so close to the machine: Ididn't ask him to!"
"I suppose the adjutant was too inquisitive, then. Not that time; Imean when you were trying that self-adjusting bomb of yours. TheBrigade Bombing Officer was full of it, and the mess were quite jealous,because we never had such rags on our sector."
"Rags!" snorted Templeton in disgust. "I hate the word! You knowperfectly well that I never rag. That self-adjusting bomb was a veryserious matter."
"Quite so. It's only lucky it wasn't more serious, isn't it? We weretold it cost your adjutant his left eyebrow and half a promisingmoustache."
"Grossly exaggerated!" Templeton exclaimed.
"As Mark Twain said when he read the report of his own death! Butwhat's this, Bob?"
A long green motor-car was drawing up slowly and noisily in front of thegarage, emitting a cloud of smoke. From the seat beside the chauffeursprang a large man, wearing a heavily furred coat. He came round thecar and called out, before he reached the open door of the repairingshop:
"Here, I say there! Can you do anythink for this car? My fool of ashover can't find out what's wrong, and we'll crock up altogether if wego on like this. The engine's knocking like anythink."
By this time he had reached the doorway, and he stood there facingTempleton, after shooting one brief glance at Eves on the bench.Templeton, looking a little more solemn even than usual--or perhaps hisexpression was partly due to the black smears on his face--had not timeto reply before Eves put in a word.
"Can yer do anythink for the gentleman?" he said.
"P'raps you've got another car handy?" said the stranger.
"No, there's none in just now," replied Templeton.
"Can't you find one? Look here, young feller, I'll make it worth yerwhile. I've got to call on the mayor and be at the camp inside of anhour. What yer say?"
"There's not another car in the place. They're all at the camp."
"Well, then, you got to do somethink, and look alive!"
"Don't keep the gentleman waiting!" said Eves, already enjoying himself.The turn things had taken seemed to carry prospects of what he called a"splendid rag."
Templeton asked the chauffeur to step out, and taking his place, startedthe car, listening intently.
"There! Didn't I tell yer?" said the owner, trotting alongside."What's wrong, eh?"
Templeton pulled up within a few yards, and backed.
"Oil," he said, laconically. "Your big ends are going."
"Big ends! What the jooce! Here, you Thomson, why didn't you give theengine no oil?"
"'Cos there warn't none," said the chauffeur, sulkily. "I told yer----"
"None of yer lip, now! Well, if it's only oil--Here, mister, oil up,and look sharp about it! None of yer country dawdling: get a move on!"
Templeton looked over the side of the car, and said quietly, in his mildconsidered way:
"I should just like to remark that unless you can moderate yourimpatience, or curb your somewhat insolent expression of it, you maytake yourself and your car elsewhere."
"Yes," cut in Eves, who had come out into the road. "If I were you,young feller, I'd jolly well chuck him into the horse-pond."
"'YES,' CUT IN EVES, WHO HAD COME OUT INTO THE ROAD. 'IFI WERE YOU, YOUNG FELLER, I'D JOLLY WELL CHUCK HIM INTO THEHORSE-POND.'"]
The stranger looked from one to the other, his astonishment atTempleton's address yielding to wrath.
"Who are you a-talking to?" he cried, making an aggressive move towardsEves.
"Not to you, my dear sir, not to you. I was merely telling this youngfeller what I should do if I were he, and you may thank your lucky starsI'm not."
The man eyed the speaker truculently, as if meditating chastisement; butEves, in spite of the blue band on his arm, looked so well knit, sovigorous, that valour subsided into discretion. Muttering somethingabout "young pups in khaki," the stranger turned towards the car, sawthat Templeton had begun lubricating, and strolled across the yardtowards a strange vehicle standing outside the garage.
"Here, Thomson, come and look at this," he called.
For a few minutes the two men walked round the vehicle, discussing itsappearance, laughing as one pointed out this or that feature to theother.
"It ain't a car," said the chauffeur.
"More like a boat," said his employer. "This here's a mast, ain't it?P'raps it's one of them hydroplanes."
"They're the same as airyplanes without the wheels. My idea it's anagricultural implement: now-a-days they've all sorts of rum contraptionsin country parts."
They examined the vehicle, perfunctorily and without knowledge, untilTempleton called out that the oiling was finished.
"Quite time too," said the stranger, looking at his watch. "She'll goall right?" he asked, as he rejoined Templeton in the road.
"Naturally I can't give any guarantee," replied Templeton, "but in allprobability the engine will last out a few hours--until you have time togive it a thorough overhauling. If I may make a suggestion, let it cooldown and run slowly, or the big ends will go altogether."
"H'm! S'pose you know! How much?"
"Oh! say half-a-crown."
"Here y'are. Get in, Thomson." He shoved the chauffeur into the car."Straight up!" he cried.
The car rattled away, still smoking, but less vigorously than before.
"Charming man!" said Eves, as the two returned to the shop. "Comeacross many like him, Bobby?"
"Oh! one meets all sorts. But I really think, Tom, I should be indanger of losing my temper if everybody who stopped here for repairswere quite so--so----"
"Exactly. Well, old sport, do hurry up with those valves. I had anearly breakfast, and no squish--simply rotten, breakfast without squish.So hurry up, and we'll go and swop some coupons."
Bright Ideas: A Record of Invention and Misinvention Page 10
