Creative Books

"
"Well, I don't know," said Ned slowly. "It's part of my small
contribution to Uncle Sam. I'm not like you--I can't invent
things."
"But you have an awful smooth line of talk, Ned!" laughed his
chum. "I believe you could sell chloride of sodium to some of the
fishes in the Great Salt Lake--that is if it has fishes."
"I don't know that it has, Tom. And, anyhow, I'm not posing as
a salt salesman," and Ned grinned. "But I must really go. Our
bank hasn't reached its quota in the sale of Liberty Bonds yet,
and it's up to me to see that it doesn't fall down."
"Go to it, Ned! And I'll get busy on my silent motor."
"Getting busy" was Tom Swift's favorite occupation, and when he
was working on a new idea, as was the case now, he was seldom
idle, night or day.
"I have hardly seen you for two weeks," Mary Nestor wrote him
one day. "Aren't you ever coming to see me any more, or take me
for a ride?"
"Yes," Tom wrote back. "I'll be over soon. And perhaps on the
next ride we take I won't have to shout at you through a speaking
tube because the motor makes so much noise.


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