“No, I can guess the amount pretty well in this old glass.”
Owen poured from each of his bottles, and then added water from the tap, inspected the trays critically, and turned the flame of the lamp a little lower. “Now,” he said, “we are all ready.”
“Ship ahoy!” came a voice from the stable stairs. It was the Doctor.
“Can’t we come?” That was Edith.
“Yes, yes! Come right up!” shouted Allan, running to the head of the stairs to pilot the newcomers, “though I don’t know where you are going to sit—we haven’t any chairs.”
“Oh, we shan’t mind that!” said the Doctor.
“We are just ready,” said Owen.
Allan thought it was good of Owen to say “we,” for he himself had taken but small part in the important preparations.
“I hope this won’t make you nervous, Owen,” the Doctor said. “I don’t know that I should want to perform an operation with so many onlookers.”
“I may not do the right thing,” Owen confessed; “but I only know how to do the one thing, anyway, and that is to pour on the developer and let the thing go.”