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 on it, but they don t seem to be doing much. Get out there and see what you can do, and let me know."

"All right, sir," Ford replied, and went. It was then about ten in the morning. Gilbert, busy with the troubles in the main plant, heard no more from sub-station A until 6 o'clock that evening. Then a small boy arrived with a message: "Engine running O.K.—Ford."

Gilbert went out to the sub-station. The engine, in perfect order, was roaring in the basement. On the first floor the dynamos were going at full speed. His worries with sub-station A were over. He went down to the engine and found Ford busy with an oil can.

"Want the job of night engineer here?" Gilbert asked him. "Pays forty-five a month."

"Go to work right now if you say so," Ford assured him.

"All right. I'll have another man here to relieve you at six in the morning. Come down to the office some time to-morrow and I'll put your name on the payroll."

In one day Ford had got the very opportunity he wanted—a job where he could study electricity at first hand.

An hour later Mrs. Ford, who had spent the day drearily unpacking trunks and putting the telescope bags under the bed in a hopeless attempt to make a boarding-house bedroom homelike, received an enthusiastic note.