tapped with his fingers as if he were tapping on a table. âGo ahead, my boy,â he said. âWe are listening.â
I said my rhyme again.
âSplendid!â said Mr. Bell. âYou have got a good teacher.â He smiled and tapped in Mrs. Bellâs hand again. I couldnât help staring, I was so curious, and he must have seen it on my face. He winked at me. âYes, dear Mrs. Bell does not hear either, but she can read your lips from across the porch.â Mrs. Bell looked sharply into my eyes and smiled at me. She really looked like a queen.
After a while, Mr. Bell announced that he, Casey Baldwin and Douglas McCurdy had pressing duties in the laboratory, but urged everyone else to continue enjoying themselves on the porch. I took that as a sign that I should leave. I went to Helen Keller and touched her hand. She raised it to my mouth, and I thanked her for teaching me, and I promised again to learn her rhyme. She held my face with both hands, reached down and gently kissed me on the forehead. If one photograph was worth a thousand words, then one touch from Helen Keller was worth a thousand photographs.
Chapter 9
M r. Bell, Mr. Baldwin, Mr. McCurdy and I walked together down the lane toward the laboratory. Mr. Baldwin and Mr. McCurdy were a lot younger than Mr. Bell, and I could tell they wanted to go faster, but they walked at Mr. Bellâs pace. Mr. Bell smoked his pipe as we went, and he seemed to be in deep thought. For a few moments, nobody said anything. Then Mr. McCurdy spoke.
âI made a model of it,â he said.
âYou did?â said Mr. Bell. He raised his eyebrows.
âIâll fly it for you, Doug,â said Mr. Baldwin.
âNot likely,â said Mr. McCurdy. He was grinning. âIâll be flying that aeroplane myself.â
âAnd the wings?â said Mr. Bell.
âThin and flat. Itâs the only way to get the lift we need.â He sounded like he was apologizing.
Mr. Bell shook his head. I had the feeling they had talked about this a lot before. âToo dangerous, boys. Sure, you might get into the air, but youâve got to stay there. And donât forget, youâve got to come down.â Mr. Bell raised his eyebrows a little higher and smiled.
âLet me show you the model,â said Mr. McCurdy.
âYes, yes, letâs have a look,â said Mr. Bell. Now he sounded almost as excited as them.
At the doorway to the laboratory, we stopped. Mr. Bell let the two younger men go in, then looked down at me and took the pipe from his mouth. I was waiting for him to say goodbye. It was time for me to go home, though I didnât want to. But thatâs not what he said.
âCome in, Eddie! Come in and see what these ambitious young men are up to.â
âOkay. Thank you, Mr. Bell.â I stepped into the laboratory. I was so glad. I was dying to see the model, too.
The laboratory was just a large shed with windows on one side and tables and benches in the middle. There were tools everywhere and wood and metal against the walls and in the corners. There were wheels, pipes, rolls of canvas, wire, glass bottles, rubber hoses and all kinds of objects and shapes that would be kind of hard to describe. On one end of a long table was the model flying machine. It was about two and a half feet long, made of wood and had rubber wheels. Its wings were even longer and were made of canvas. Mr. Casey and Mr. McCurdy were standing around it, talking excitedly. They had a lot of energy.
Mr. Bell cleaned his pipe before he came over to look closely at the model. Mr. McCurdy waited patiently for him, but I could tell he was anxious for him to see it. Mr. Bell bent down and tapped his pipe into a metal can. He took a small wire and cleaned the stem, then filled the pipe with fresh tobacco and lit it. No matter what he was doing, even cleaning his pipe, he was always thinking. You could see it on his face. Watching him light his pipe