GUS HOLDS FORTH AGAIN
"Say, old scout," cautioned Gus, in a low voice, "better not tell about
our job. Let it dawn on them later."
"Righto, Gus. It's nobody's business but ours. But what do the bunch
want?"
Bill soon found out, however, when Cora and Ted came to meet him.
"We've had an argument, Terry and I, about Edison," said the girl, "and
I know you can settle it. I said that--"
"Hold on! Don't tell me who said anything; then it'll be fair," Bill
demanded.
"'O wise, wise judge!'" gibed Ted. "Ought to have a suit of ermine.
Proper stunt, too. Let me put it, Cora; I'll be the court crier. Come on
and let's squat on the bank like the rest. Judge, you ought to be the
most elevated. Now, then, here's the dope: Did Edison really ever do
anything much to help with the war?"
"He did more than any other man," Bill declared promptly. "Positively!
Everybody ought to know that. He invented a device so that they could
smell a German submarine half a mile away, and they could tell when a
torpedo was fired. Another invention turned a ship about with her prow
facing the torpedo, so that it would be most likely to go plowing and
not hit her, as it would with broadside on. I guess that saved many a
ship and it helped to destroy lots of submarines with depth bombs. It
got the Germans leery when their old submersibles failed to get in any
licks and went out never to come back; it was as big a reason as any why
they were so ready to quit. Well, who was right?"
"I was!" announced Cora, gleefully. "Terry just can't see any good in
Edison at all. He says he hires people who really make his inventions
and he gets the credit for them. He says--"
"I don't suppose it makes much difference what he says; he simply
doesn't know what he's talk--"
"You think you know, but do you? You've read a lot of gush that--" Terry
began, but Gus interrupted him, almost a new thing for the quiet chap.
"Listen, Terry: get right on this. Don't let a lot of foolish people
influence you; people who can't ever see any real good in success and
who blame everything on luck and crookedness. And Bill does know."
"Anybody who tries to make Edison out a small potato," declared Bill,
addressing the others, rather than the supercilious youth who had
maligned his hero, "is simply ignorant of the facts. My father knew a
man well who worked for Edison in his laboratory for years. He said that
the stories about Edison making use of the inventions of others is all
nonsense; it is Edison who has the ideas and who starts his assistants
to experimenting, some at one thing, some at another, so as to find out
whether the ideas are good.
"He said that the yarns they tell about Edison's working straight ahead
for hours and hours without food and sleep, then throwing himself on a
couch for a short nap and getting up to go at it again are all exactly
true, over and over again. He said that one of the boys in the shop
tried to play a trick on the old man, as they call him, while he was
napping on the couch. They rigged up a talking-machine on a stand and
dressed it in some of Edison's old clothes, put a lullaby record on it,
lugged it in, set it up in front of the couch and set it going, to
express the idea that he was singing himself to sleep. But while they
were at this Mr. Edison, getting on to the joke, for he generally naps
with one eye open, got up and put a lot of stuffing under the couch
spread, stuck his old hat on it so as to make it look as though his face
was covered; then peered through the crack of a door. When the music
commenced he opened the door and said:
"'Boys, it won't work; music can't affect dead matter.' Then they pulled
off the couch cover and all had a good laugh.
"Now. you can see," Bill went on, with ever increasing enthusiasm, "just
how that shows where Mr. Edison stands. Nobody can get ahead of him, and
there isn't anyone with brains who knows him who doesn't admit he has
more brains and is wider awake than anybody else. There's nothing that
he does that doesn't show it. You have all seen his questionnaires for
the men who are employed in his laboratories and you can bet they're no
joke. And his inventions--they're not just the trifling things like
egg-beaters, rat-traps, coat-hangers, bread-mixers, fly-swatters and
lipsticks."
"But some of these things are mighty cute and they coin the dough," said
Ted.
"Oh, they're ingenious and money-makers some of them, I'll admit, but we
could get along very well without them and most of us do. But think of
the real things Edison has done. The first phonograph; improving the
telegraph so that six messages can be sent over the same wire at the
same time; improving the telephone so that everybody can use it;
collecting fine iron ore from sand and dirt by magnets; increasing the
power and the lightness of the storage battery. And there are the
trolleys and electric railways that have been made possible. And the
incandescent electric lamp--how about that? Edison has turned his
wonderful genius only to those things that benefit millions of--"
"And he deserved to make millions out of it," said Ted.
"I guess he has, too," offered one of the girls.
"You bet, and that's what he works for: not just to benefit people,"
asserted Terry.
"I suppose your dad and most other guys got their dough all by accident
while they were trying to help other folks; eh?" Bill fired at Terry.
But the rich boy walked away, his usual method to keep from getting the
worst of an argument.
"Oh, I wish Grace Hooper were here," Cora said. "She's no snob like
Terry and wouldn't she enjoy this?"
"And her dad, too. Isn't he a nice old fellow, even though he's awfully
rich?" laughed Dot.
"He'd have his say about this argument, grammar or no grammar. He thinks
a lot of this chap he calls Eddy's son," Mary Dean declared.
"Great snakes! Does he really think the wizard is the child of some guy
named Eddy?" Ted queried.
"Sounds so," Cora said. "But you can't laugh at him, he's so kind and
good and it would hurt Grace. He would be interested in radio, too."
"Wonder he hasn't got a peach of a receiver set up in his house," Lucy
Shore ventured.
"Is he keen for all new-fangled things?" asked Ted.
"You bet he is, though somebody would have to tell him and show him
first. Well, people, I'm going home; who's along?"
With one accord the others got to their feet and started up or down the
street. Gus and Bill went together, as always; they had much to talk
about.