“I’ve got to tear over to school with this notebook,” he explained to Teena. “That was my dad.”
“I’ll go with you,” Teena said.
“O.K.”
It was only a few blocks to the college campus. Reaching the grounds, they took a short cut past the men’s gymnasium, crossed the athletic field, and arrived at the Botany Building.
“I see Dad over there,” Eddie said, pointing. There were several men standing in a group in the small cultivated field which the botany department used to grow test plants of various kinds. Eddie and Teena picked their way carefully between the rows.
“You made good time, Eddie,” his father said, taking the notebook. “Morning, Teena. Hope I didn’t interrupt any big plans.”
“Oh, no, Mr. Taylor,” Teena said. “We weren’t doing anything special.”
Eddie was about to turn and leave, when he noticed that several of the young men—students, no doubt—were wearing strange-looking, long, heavy gloves.
“Why the gloves, Dad?” he asked.
Mr. Taylor glanced up from the notebook. “We’re experimenting with radioactive tracers,” he said. “They’re weak—certainly not dangerous—but there’s no harm in taking a little extra precaution. The gloves are lead-lined and absorb any of the rays which might possibly be picked up from handling the plants.”