But it didn't seem to strike Bob abeam. He went at it
like a dogfish for bait, an' he's beginnin' to tow the thing out of the
fog now into clear water."
"It's quite a scheme," observed Snelling, with an assumed nonchalance.
"How did you happen on it?"
"Them idees just come to me," was the ingenuous reply. "Some brains,
like some gardens, grow one thing, some another. Mine seems to turn
out stuff like this."
"It's pretty good stuff."
"It's a lot of bother to me sometimes," said the old man simply.
"Still, I enjoy it. I'd be badly off if it warn't for the thinkin' I
do. What a marvel thinkin' is, ain't it? You can think all sorts of
things; can travel in your mind to 'most every corner of the globe.
You can think yourself rich, think yourself poor, think yourself young,
think yourself happy. There's nothin' you want you can't think you
have, an' dreamin' about it is 'most as good as gettin' it."
Mr. Snelling nodded.
"Sometimes I think myself an artist, sometimes a musician," went on the
wistful voice. "Then again I think myself a great man an' doin'
somethin' worth while in the world.
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