ting everything in order. I worked away for a long while—how long I cannot exactly tell—when suddenly I heard an explosion in my uncle's little room, followed by a cry.
I rushed to the door and knocked.
"What is it?" he growled.
"What is the matter?" I cried.
"Nothing! Don't be foolish!" said my uncle. "Nothing can hurt me!"
I went back to the laboratory, and, having nothing further to do, sat down to wait for his coming.
Again came the explosion, followed by the same cry.
I started up, and, before I thought, I cried aloud, "You 're not hurt, are you?"
The door opened suddenly, and my uncle came out, looking very much excited.
"Dick," said he, "go home. Here is your bag. I sha'n't need your help to-night."
I took what I thought was my bag, and went home to my room.
When I lighted my student-lamp I saw that, instead of my traveling-bag, my uncle had given me an old, dusty, wrinkled, and battered leather satchel, which looked as though it might be a century old.
I laughed, and tried to open it. It was locked. After puzzling over the lock until I was tired, I opened my closet door and flung the satchel upon the highest shelf.
"To-morrow," said I, "I 'll exchange it for my own bag."
I am afraid Uncle Ralph's treatment was beginning to affect my temper. I did n't like the way he had treated me that night. Then he had n't paid me my salary for a long time, and my bills were coming in faster than I could pay them.
It is very discouraging to do other men's work, especially when
