The desk lamp shone upon the old man’s features. Harry seemed to detect an unusual gleam in the professor’s eyes.
“I chose you after much consideration,” said Professor Whitburn, in a slow voice. His tones were almost accusing. “You studied engineering, did you not?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you put your learning into practical experience?”
“Not very long, sir. I had an opportunity in another business. I must confess that my technical training is no longer what it used to be.”
“Good!” asserted Professor Whitburn. “Good!”
Harry was surprised at the man’s tone of approval. He had imagined that his inactivity in engineering would have been to his disadvantage.
“Training!” exclaimed Professor Whitburn. “Bah! There is only one real training experience, and that must be of the right sort, mind you. Not the kind of experience that most young men get. I am glad you have had little of it.”
He brought his thin fists up from beneath the desk, and thomped them simultaneously upon the wood in front of him.
“Young men tell me what to do!” he said, in apparent fury. “I have had them tell me what to do! They think that their parrot learning is knowledge! They find out differently, when they have worked with me! I demand more than a few simple facts tucked away up here!”