"Well, the government--"

"The government doesn't have to live with you. Nor to put up with your
'inventive' ways." Henry's tall partner was fierce in his vehemence.
"You've cited one of your devil's devices that turned out well. Well,
now let me mention a few. Remember what happened when you decided to
find the universal solvent[3]?"

"But scientists all make mistakes sometimes, Joseph--"

"And how about that time you wiped out every peony within ten miles? Was
that a mistake too?"

"Honestly, I didn't think it would kill anything but ragweed," Henry
sniveled miserably.

"Of course it was all an accident when you rendered every one of our
guinea pigs sterile, wasn't it?" sneered the other. "That was a nice
invention, Henry. All it did was to cut off our income for months on
end, and nearly destroy our reputation for reliability as breeders of
laboratory guinea pigs."

"Oh, Joseph!" Henry's voice was an abject wail. His goatee hung limp and
bedraggled. "You know I didn't mean any harm any of those times. Really
I didn't. I just want to be a scientist--" Again he began sniveling.

Professor Paulsen, still glaring, opened his mouth to denounce his
partner further. Then, thinking better of it, he relaxed and put his arm
around Henry's quivering shoulders.

"Do you think I like to talk to you like this?" he asked, leading the
way toward the porch. "Do you think it's pleasant for me?" Wearily, he
shook his head. "I hate to be shouting at you all the time, Henry. It's
just that patience will stretch only so far. Then it snaps."

A pause.

"I keep thinking you'll learn by experience, Henry. That you'll realize
you can't be forever blowing the roof off the laboratory, or Lord knows
what else, and quit fooling around with things you don't understand.

"But instead, you go right on. You dabble into some new branch of
science, and a cloud of trouble sweeps down on us like a typhoon on
Zamboanga."

* * * * *

Together, the friends climbed the porch steps and took seats on the
ancient but comfortable wicker settee.

Henry darted a quick glance at his partner. Saw that the professor's
face once more was placid; that the storm was over. Unconsciously, the
little man's goatee perked up. He readjusted his steel-rimmed glasses to
a more stable position.

"Honestly, Joseph, this time my invention can't do any harm," he
ventured. "Really it can't."

For a moment fire flashed in the scient