The mother was a sweet old dear, dressed as Baird had promised.

She early confided to Merton that she was glad her part was not to be a mopping part.

In that case she would have had to wear knee-pads, whereas now she was merely, she said, to be a tired business woman.
Still another interior was of her kitchen where she busily carried on her fruit-canning activities.

Pots boiled on the stove and glass jars were filled with her product.

One of the pots, Merton noticed, the largest, had a tightly closed top from which a slender tube of copper went across one corner of the little room to where it coiled in a bucket filled with water, whence it discharged its contents into bottles.
This, it seemed, was his mother's improved grape juice, a cooling drink to tempt the jaded palates of the city folks up at the big hotel.
The laboratory of the young inventor was abundantly filmed while the earnest country boy dreamed hopefully above his drawings or tinkered at metal devices on the work-bench.