Stanley did so, and then stood watching his teacher as he scientifically linked together his flasks and tubes, now mixing innocent-looking substances with a practised hand, now applying the flame to this compound, or adding a few drops of acid to that.
“There,” he said, after looking closely at one of them for a moment; “that will begin to work now. Bring up a couple of stools, Stanley; we may as well make ourselves comfortable, for all we can do at present is to watch this. I wanted to see that they were all in order for next time, and not have them fail me, as my chlorine experiment did. Do you know,” he added, with an anxious frown; “I am a little suspicious of some of these last chemicals.”
“Why?” asked Stanley, as he seated himself astride his lofty stool.
“They don’t act just right, and I’m not at all sure that they are pure. Still, they came from the same house that always supplies us, and they must be good.” And Lieutenant Wilde bent his head, to look more closely at the bubbling mixture.
“What if they aren’t pure?” inquired Stanley.
“Oh, they may explode; that’s the worst they can do,” said Lieutenant Wilde, laughing at the boy’s dismayed face and involuntary motion away from the desk. “You needn’t worry, Campbell,” he added reassuringly; “I think these are probably all they ought to be.”
“I wonder how I’d like to be a chemist,” remarked Stanley thoughtfully.
“You have rather a gift for it,” responded Lieutenant Wilde, resting one elbow on the desk, while he twirled his glasses by their bows, in the other hand.
“I’m afraid I haven’t much gift for anything,” said Stanley, and there was a little tone of regret in his voice, as he went on, “I wish I could get at things as quick as Max does. It seems as if he knew everything, without studying it at all. He’s an awfully bright fellow, Lieutenant Wilde.”
“Yes,” assented Lieutenant Wilde absently. He was mentally weighing the two boys, as unlike as boys could be.