On one particular afternoon, she did create something—in fact she created a great deal of excitement.
She had taken down a formula which Dr. Holmes had left in a notebook.
“Looks interesting,” she whispered to herself. She had worked herself up, that day, to a feverish heat, to a point where she would dare anything.
As she read a closely written notation beneath the formula, her eyes widened. “It is interesting,” she exclaimed. “Tremendous! I’ll make it. Wouldn’t dare try it on anyone, though.”
“Better have a gas mask,” she told herself after a moment’s thought. Digging about in a deep drawer she at last took out a strange canvas bag with a windpipe-like attachment. This she hung upon a peg while she selected the particular vials needed.
After that she drew the gas mask over her head and plunged into the work.
“Ten grains,” she murmured; “a fluid ounce; three drams; three fluid ounces; heat this in a beaker; add two drams—”
So she went on mumbling to herself in her excitement, like some witch in a play.
“Too bad! Too bad! Won’t hold it,” she mumbled at last, after waiting for her concoction to cool. “Won’t go in one vial. Have to use two.”
Having filled one thin glass vial and closed it with a glass-stopper, she was in the act of filling the second when the half-filled vial slipped from her hand and went crashing to the tile floor.