John suggested a saltpetre analysis.
"No."
"Well, then, I don't know anything else."
There was silence and the flies buzzed,—a long and terrible silence. "Now will come the question about the boots or the matches," thought John, "and there I shall shine." He coughed by way of rousing the professor, but the silence continued. John wondered whether he had been seen through and whether the old man recognised the "examination coat."
Then came a new question which was unanswered, and then another.
"You have come too soon," said the old man, and rose up.
"Yes, but I have worked a whole year in the laboratory, and can do chemical analysis."
"Yes, you know how to make up prescriptions, but you have not digested your knowledge. In the Institute only manual dexterity is necessary, but here scientific knowledge is required."
As a matter of fact the case was exactly the reverse for the medical students in Upsala complained that they had to stand like cooks and make up mixtures and salts, without having time to look at an analysis, which last was just what a doctor ought to do while synthesis was the apothecary's work. But now the proposal made some years before whether the university had not better be transferred to Stockholm had roused a feeling in Upsala against the capital. Moreover the laboratory of the newly-built technological institute was as famous for its excellent equipment, as that of Upsala was notorious for its poor one. Here, therefore, petty prejudices were at work and John felt the unfairness of it. "I do not then get a certificate?" he asked.
"No, sir, not this year; but come again next year."