Mrs.Little, I'd rather be with him at two guineas a week, than with any other master at three." When he had got this honest fellow to look after his interests, young Little gave more way than ever to his natural bent for invention, and he was often locked up for twelve hours at a stretch, in a room he called his studio.

Indeed, such was his ardor, that he sometimes left home after dinner, and came back to the works, and then the fitful fire of his forge might be seen, and the blows of his hammer heard, long after midnight.
Dr.Amboyne encouraged him in this, and was, indeed, the only person admitted to his said studio.

There the Democritus of Hillsborough often sat and smoked his cigar, and watched the progress toward perfection of projected inventions great and small.
One day the doctor called and asked Bayne whether Henry was in his studio.

Bayne said no; he thought he had seen him in the saw-grinders' hull.

"And that struck me; for it is not often his lordship condescends to go there now." "Let us see what 'his lordship' is at." They approached stealthily, and, looking through a window, saw the inventor standing with his arms folded, and his eyes bent on a grinder at his work: the man was pressing down a six-feet saw on a grindstone with all his might and Little was looking on, with a face compounded of pity, contempt, and lofty contemplation.
"That is the game now, sir," whispered Bayne: "always in the clouds, or else above 'em.