Jarley was an inventive genius.  He invented things for the pleasure of it rather than with any idea of ultimately profiting from the results of his ingenuity, which may explain why it was that his friends deemed many of his contrivances a sheer waste of time.  Among other things that Jarley invented was a tennis-racket which could be folded up and packed away in a trunk.  The fact that any ordinary tennis-racket could be packed away in any ordinary trunk without being folded up was to Jarley no good reason why he should not devote his energies to the production of the compact weapon of sport which he called the Jarley Racket.  He was after novelty, and utility was always a secondary consideration with him.  Others of his inventions were somewhat more startling.  “The Jarley Ready Writing-Desk for Night Use,” for instance, was a really remarkable conception.  Its chief value lay in the saving of gas and midnight oil to impecunious writers which its use was said to bring about, and when fully equipped consisted simply of a writing-table with all the appliances and conveniences thereof treated with phosphorus in such a manner that in the blackest of darkness they could all be seen readily.  The ink even was phosphorescent.  The paper was luminous in the dark.  The penholders, pens, pen-wipers, mucilage-bottle, everything, in fact, that an author really needs for the production of literature, save ideas, were so prepared that they could not fail to be visible to the weakest eye in the darkest night without the aid of other illumination.  The chief trouble with the invention was that in the long-run it was more expensive than gas or oil could possibly be in the most extravagant household; but that bothered Jarley not a jot.  Nor was he at all upset when his ingenious Library Folding-Bed, comprising a real bookcase and sofa-couch, failed to suit his practical-minded friends because, when turned down for use as a couch, all the books in the bookcase side of it fell out upon the floor.  His arrangement was better than the ordinary folding-bed, he said, because the bookcase side of it was not a sham, but the real thing, while that of the folding-bed of commerce was a delusion and a snare.  As a hater of shams he justified his invention, though of course it couldn’t be put to much practical use unless the purchaser was willing to take his books out of the shelves when he intended using the piece of furniture for sleeping purposes.  If the purchaser was too lazy to do this it was not Jarley’s fault, so the inventor reasoned, nor did he intend improving his machine in order to accommodate the lazy man in his pursuit of a life of indolence.

When Jarley married he turned his attention to the devising of apparatus to make domestic life less trying to Mrs. Jarley.  As a bachelor he had contrived quite a number of mechanical effects which made his lonely life easier.  He had fitted up his rooms with devices by means of which, while lying in bed on cold mornings, he could light his gas-stove without getting up; and his cigars, the ends of which he had dipped in sulphur, so that they could be lit by scratching them on the under side of the mantel-piece, just as matches are ignited, were the delight of his life.  Now, however, he turned his mind towards helping little Mrs. Jarley on in the domestic world.  He prepared a chart by means of which the monotony of marketing was done away with entirely.  He also arranged for her a charming automatic curl-paper box, and drew up a plan for a patent pair of curling-tongs, which could be fastened to the gas-fixture and kept heated to the degree required, so that it might be used at a moment’s notice.  This was provided with a number of movable ends, all different, in order that Mrs. Jarley could, if she chose, vary the appearance of her curls according to her taste; and although the little lady never approved of it sufficiently to have it made, it was undoubtedly a valuable contrivance.

Then when Jarley junior came along to delight the parent soul, self-rocking cradles and perpetual reservoirs for food were devised, and some of them put into actual use, though, as a rule, Mrs. Jarley preferred the old-fashioned methods to which she was by her home training more accustomed.

The great invention of Jarley, however, was the result of his study of Jarley junior as that very charming and exceedingly agile child developed from infancy into boyhood.  The idea came to him one Sunday afternoon while Mrs. Jarley was at church.  It was the nursemaid’s afternoon out, and Jarley had undertaken to care for Master Jarley in the absence of his true guardians.

“Well, Jack,” he said to his son, when they had been left in sole possession of the Jarley mansion, “you and I must entertain each other this afternoon.  What shall we do?”

“I’d like to play choo-choo car with you,” said Jack.  “I’ll be the engine and you be the train.”

“Very well,” said Jarley.  “Have you got your steam up?”

“Yeth,” lisped Jack.  “All aboard!”

Jarley hitched himself on to the engine as best he could by grabbing hold of Jack’s little coat tail, and the train started.  It was the most tedious journey Jarley ever undertook.  The train went up and down stairs, out upon the piazza, and finally landed in the kitchen, where the engine fired up on such fuel as gingerbread and cookies.  Incidentally the train, as represented by Jarley, took on a load of freight, consisting of the same fuel, and off they started again.  At the end of a half-hour’s run Jarley was worn out, but the engine seemed to gather strength and speed the farther it travelled; and as it let out a fearful shriek ­possibly a whistle ­every time the rear end of the train suggested side-tracking and a cessation of traffic for a month or two, Jarley in his indulgence invariably withdrew the proposition.  The consequence was that when Mrs. Jarley returned from church Jarley was a wreck, and as he handed the engine over to the maternal care he observed with some testiness that in a well-kept household it seemed to him matters should be so arranged that a busy man should not be compelled to turn himself into a child’s nurse, especially on the one day of the week which he could devote to rest and relaxation.  “If I had that boy’s energy,” he said to himself as he fled to his library, “what wonders I would accomplish!  What a shame it is, too, that the wasted energy of youth cannot be stored up in some way, so that when there comes the real need for it, it can be made available!”

This thought was the germ of his invention.  As he lay there in the library he thought over the possibilities of life if the nervous force of childhood, the misdirected energy of play-time, could only be put by and drawn upon later just as man puts by the money he does not need in the present for use in case of future rainy days.  Then, as the sun sank below the hills and the twilight hours with their inspiring softness came on, Jarley resolved that he was the man to whom had come the mission which should make of this ideal a reality.  Probably in the full glare of day he would not have undertaken it; but Jarley, in common with most men of dreamy nature, felt in the quiet dusk the power to do all things.  He had the poetic temperament which sometimes leads on to great things, and the man so gifted who does not feel himself capable, at that hour of the day of rest, of battering down Gibraltar or of upbuilding the whole human race, must account himself a failure.

“I’ll do it,” he murmured, drowsily, to himself, and he did.  How he did it was Jarley’s own secret, and while he confides many things to me, this secret he kept, and still keeps.  All I know is that he fitted up a play-room for Jack on the attic floor, and by means of an apparatus, the peculiarities of whose construction he alone knows, he managed after a while to store up the superfluous energy which Jack expended upon everything that he did.  Every time Jack turned a somersault he contributed, unknown to himself, something to the growing bulk of hoarded force in the reservoir provided for its reception.  All the strength necessary for the somersault was devoted to that operation.  The superfluity went to the reservoir.  So, also, when in his play of scaling imaginary rocks after fictitious wild beasts he endeavored futilely to walk up the play-room wall, the unavailing energy went to augment the stores from which Jarley hoped to extract so much that would prove of value to the world.

When the reservoir was full the question that confronted Jarley was as to the value of its contents, and to ascertain this he resolved upon an experiment upon himself.  No one else, he believed, would be willing to subject himself to the experiment, nor did he wish at that time to let others into his secret.  Even Mrs. Jarley was not aware of his efforts, and so he made the experiment.  He liquefied the energy Jack had wasted, and upon retiring one night took what he considered to be the proper dose for the test.  The effect was remarkable.

When he rose up the next morning he experienced a consciousness of power that reminded him of sundry tales of Samson.  But there was one drawback.  He did not seem quite able to control himself.  For instance, instead of dressing in the usual dignified and quiet way, he found himself prancing about his room like a young colt, and while he was taking his bath he had a yearning for objects of juvenile virtu which had for many years been strangers to his tub.  He was not at all satisfied with his dip plain and unadorned, and he had developed an unconquerable aversion for soap.  It was all he could do to restrain his inclination to call vociferously for a number of small tin boats and birch-bark canoes, without which Jack never bathed.  He did conquer it, however, and at the end of a half-hour managed to reach the end of his bath, though as a rule he had hitherto rarely expended more than ten minutes in his morning ablutions.  Then came another difficulty.  He found himself utterly unable to stand still while he was putting on his clothes, and finally Mrs. Jarley had to be called in to comb his hair for him.  Jarley himself could no more have taken the time to part it satisfactorily than he could have flown.

“What is the matter with you?” said Mrs. Jarley, as she made several ineffectual attempts to get his truant locks into shape.  “Have you caught St. Vitus’s dance?”

“Nothing’s the matter with me,” returned Jarley, standing on one foot and hopping up and down thereon.  “I feel well, that’s all.”

And then he tore out of the room, mounted the banisters, and slid downstairs in an utterly unbecoming fashion, considering that he was a man of thirty-five and the head of the house.  He felt a little ashamed of himself in the midst of this operation, particularly when he observed that the waitress was standing in the hall below-stairs, looking at him with eyes that betokened an astonishment as creditable to her as it was disgraceful to him.  He tried vainly to stop his wild descent when he noted her presence.  He clutched madly at the banisters, turning his hands and knees into brakes in his effort to save his dignity; but once started he could not stop, and as a consequence he went down like a flash, slid precipitately over the newel-post, and landed with a cry of mortification on the hall floor.  He was not hurt, save in his self-esteem, and gathering himself together, he endeavored to walk with dignity into the dining-room; but he had hardly reached the door, when he was overcome with a mad desire to whoop ­and whoop he did.  As a consequence of the whoop Jack was scolded when Mrs. Jarley came down.  She had no idea that Jarley himself could be so blind to propriety as to yell in so indecorous a fashion; and when poor little Jack was upbraided, Jarley, despite his good intention to confess himself the guilty party, discovered that the only act he was capable of was giggling.  Jack of course wept, and the more he wept the more Jarley giggled, and was taken to task for encouraging the boy in his misbehavior.

During breakfast he was unusually demonstrative.  He could not bring himself to await his turn when the potatoes were passed, and in his eagerness to get at them he overturned his coffee, which served to turn the tables a little, for Jack giggled at the mishap, while Jarley became the centre of Mrs. Jarley’s displeasure.  What was worse, Jarley, try as he might, could not resist the temptation to kick the legs of the table, and it was not until Mrs. Jarley had threatened to dismiss Jack from her presence, supposing that he must, of course, be the offender, that Jarley assumed the burden of his misbehavior.

It was not until Jarley set out to his office, however, that he realized the real horror of his condition.  Instead of riding down-town on one cable-car, as was his wont, he found himself trying, boy-like, to steal a ride by jumping on a car platform and standing there until the conductor came along, when he would hop off, ride a block or two on the end of a truck, and then try a new car, so beating his way down-town.  Then he arrived at his office.  I have neglected to state that while invention was Jarley’s avocation, he was by profession a lawyer, being the junior member of a highly successful firm, at the head of which was no less a person than the eminent William J. Baker, whose record at the bar is too well known to require any further words of mine to recall him to the minds of my readers.  Jarley had not been in the office more than ten minutes before he realized that he might better have remained at home while the influence of Jack’s wasted energy was within him.  He was in a state of irrepressibility.  No matter how strongly he endeavored to hold himself in check he could not do so, and his day down-town was like the days of most boys who are permitted to spend a morning and an afternoon with their parent in the workshop.  The first thing he did on reaching his desk was to roll back its folding top.  This pleased him unaccountably.  He had never before imagined that so much fun could be got out of the rolling top of a desk, and for a full quarter of an hour he pulled it backward and forward, and so noisily withal that Mr. Baker sent one of the clerks in to see if the office-boy had not become suddenly insane.

Recalled to his true self for the moment, Jarley endeavored to get down to work, but as he made the endeavor he became conscious that a revolving chair has very pleasing qualities to one who is fond of twirling.  Round and round he twirled, and as he twirled he grabbed up his cane, and in a moment realized that he was playing that he was on a merry-go-round, and trying to secure a renewal of his right to ride by catching imaginary rings on the end of his stick.  This operation consumed quite five minutes more of his time, and was accompanied by such a vast number of “Hoop-las” that Mr. Baker came himself to see what was the cause of the unseemly racket.  Fortunately for Jarley, just as his partner reached the doorway, the chair had reached the limit of its twirling capacity, and having been unscrewed as far as it could be, toppled over on to the floor, with Jarley underneath.  “What in the world does this mean, Jarley?” said Mr. Baker, severely, as he assisted his fallen partner to rise.

“My chair has come apart,” laughed Jarley, getting red in the face.

“That’s the great trouble with that kind of chair,” said Mr. Baker.  “You don’t seem to mind the mishap very much.”

“Oh no,” said Jarley, gritting his teeth in his determination not to follow his mad impulse to jump on Mr. Baker’s shoulders and clamor for a picky-back ride.  “No; I don’t mind little things like that much.”

Here he stood on his right leg, as he had done before breakfast, and began to hop.

“Hurt your foot?” queried Mr. Baker.

Jarley seized at the suggestion with all the despairing vigor of a drowning man clutching at a rope.

“Yes; a little, but not enough to mention,” he said; whereupon, much to his relief, Mr. Baker turned away and went back to his own room.

“This will never do,” Jarley moaned to himself when his partner had gone.  “If one of my clients should come in ­”

Then he stopped and grinned like a mischievous lad.  He had caught sight of an old water-meter that had been used as an exhibit in a case he had once tried against the city in behalf of an inventor, who had been led to believe that the water board would adopt his patent and compel every householder to buy one for the registration of water consumed.  What fun it would be to take that apart, he thought, and thinking thus was enough to set him about the task.  He locked his door, moved the strange-looking contrivance out into the middle of the room, and tried to unscrew the top of it with his eraser.  The delicate blade of this improvised screw-driver snapped off in an instant, whereupon Jarley tried the scissors, with similar results.  After a half-hour of this he gave up the idea of taking the meter apart, but his soul immediately became possessed of another idea, which was to see if it worked.  The pursuit of this brought him the most deliriously joyful sensations; and for an hour he devoted himself to filling the machine up with water drawn from a faucet at one side of his room, and poured into the meter from a drinking-glass.  It was not until the hour was up that he observed that the water after passing through the meter came out upon the carpet, and it is probable that even then he would not have noticed it had not the tenants below sent up to inquire if there was not something wrong with the water-pipes overhead.

When Jarley realized what had happened he wisely determined to give up business for the day.  While the spirit of Jack was within him, the business he might transact was not likely to prove of value to himself or to any one else.  So he put on his hat and coat, called a cab, and started for home.  His experiences in the cab were quite of a kind with the experiences of the morning, and attended with no little personal danger.  He would lean against the cab door and put his arm out and try to touch horse-cars as they passed.  Once or twice he nearly had his head knocked off by sticking it out of the windows; but by some happy chance he got interested in the cab curtains and the inviting little strings, which, when pulled, made them fly up with a snap.  Absorbed in this occupation, he drove on, and gave up all such dangerous experiments as playing tag with horse-cars and trucks, and arrived at home in time for luncheon unhurt.

Mrs. Jarley was somewhat alarmed at the unexpected return of Mr. Jarley, but was content with his explanation that while he never felt better in his life, he deemed it best to return and attend to his work in the privacy of his own home.  For the proper accomplishment of this work he said that he thought he would use Jack’s nursery on the attic floor, where he could be quiet, and he asked as an especial favor that he might be left alone with Jack for the balance of the day.

He had made up his mind that his experiment, while a success in one way, were not what he expected in another way.  He had found Jack’s energy very energetic indeed, but not suited for adult use, and he even found himself wondering why he had not thought of that before.  However, the thing to do now was to get rid of that spirit as soon as possible.  If it had become permanently a part of him, he had reached his second childhood, which for a man of thirty-five is a disturbing thought.  So disturbing was it that Jarley resolved upon a heroic measure to cure himself. Similia similibus struck him as being the only possible cure, and so, regardless of the possible consequences to his physical being, he “permitted” Jack to be with him up-stairs “while he worked,” as he put it to Mrs. Jarley, though all others were forbidden to approach.

The result was as he had foreseen.  Jack’s energy in Jack, pure and unadulterated, had very little trouble in wearing out the diluted energy which his father had acquired from his superfluous stores, and night coming on found Jarley, after a three hours’ steady circus with his son, in his normal condition mentally.  But physically!  What a poor wreck of a human system was his when the last bit of the boyish spirit was consumed!  Had he worked at brick-laying for a week without rest Jarley could not have been more prostrated physically.  But he was happy.  His tests had proved that he could do certain things, but the results he had expected as to the value of those things were not what he had hoped for.  At any rate, his experiment gave him greater sympathy with his boy than he had ever had before, and they have become great chums.  The greatest disappointment of the whole affair is Jack’s, who wonders why it is that he and his father have no more afternoon acrobatics such as they had in the play-room that day, but until he is a good many years older his father cannot tell him, for the boy could not in the present stage of his intellectual development understand him if he tried.

As for Mr. Baker and the people at the office, they were not at all astonished to hear the next day that Jarley was laid up, and would probably, not appear at the office again for a week, although they were a little surprised when they learned that his trouble was rheumatism, and not softening of the brain.