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178 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