It was going to be an awful wrench to give up the invention, for now, at the moment of abandoning it, he saw, or thought he saw, that he was right at last, and that it could not fail.  It was useless to try it as it was, yet he would, just once more.  He adjusted the tangent-balance and the valves; he put in the supply of the chemical with the long name and screwed down the hermetic plug.  With the small hand air-pump he produced the first vacuum which was necessary; all was ready, every joint and stuffing-box was lubricated, the spring of the balance was adjusted to a nicety.  But the engine would not start, though he turned the fly-wheel with his hand again and again, as if to encourage it.  Of course it would not turn alone!  He understood perfectly that the one piece on which all depended must be made over again, exactly the other way.  That was all!

There was the wooden model of it, all ready for the foundry that would not cast it for nothing.  If only the wooden piece would serve for a moment’s trial!  But he knew that this was folly; it would not stand the enormous strain an instant, and the joints could not possibly be made air-tight.

He was utterly worn out by all he had been through during the long day, and he fell asleep in his chair towards morning, his head on his breast, his feet struck out straight before him, one arm hanging down beside him and his other hand thrust into his pocket.  He looked more like a shabby lay figure stuffed with sawdust than like a living man.  If Newton had come down and found him lying there under the lamplight he would have started back and shuddered, and waited a while before he could find courage to come nearer.

But the man was only very sound asleep, and he did not wake till the December dawn gleamed through the clear winter’s sky and made the artificial light look dim and smoky; and when he opened his eyes it was he himself who started to find himself there in the cold before his great failure, in broad daylight.

Nevertheless, he had slept soundly, and felt better able to face all the trouble that was in store for him.  He stirred the embers in the stove, put in some kindling and a supply of coal, and warmed himself, still heavy with sleep, and glad to waken consciously, by degrees, and to feel that his resolution was not going to break down.

When he felt quite himself he left the room and went upstairs cautiously, lest he should wake the boy, though it was really time to get up, and Newton was already dressing.

“I’ll walk into town with you,” said Overholt when they were at breakfast in the parlour.  “It will do me good to get some air, and I must see about selling those things.  There’s no time to be lost.”

Newton swallowed his hominy and bread and butter and milk, and reflected on the futility of the sacrifice he had made, since his father insisted on selling everything for old metal; but he said nothing, because he was dreadfully disappointed.