appeared on his nose. “I can’t see as well as I used to,” he said, excusing his old fingers. Prokop watched for a moment and then, saying nothing, took the scales from him. Two little taps and the powder was weighed to a milligram. And a second and a third powder in the same way. The delicate balance simply danced in Prokop’s fingers. “Just look at that,” said the doctor with admiration and watched Prokop’s crushed, knotty hands with their shapeless knuckles, broken nails, and short stumps in the place of one or two missing fingers. “Your fingers are wonderfully nimble, man!” In the course of a few moments Prokop had spread some ointment, measured off some drops of liquid, and heated a test-tube. The doctor glowed with pleasure, and stuck on the labels. In half-an-hour all the medicines were ready, and, in addition, there was a pile of powders in reserve. In a few days Prokop could read the doctor’s prescriptions and make them up. Bon!
One evening the doctor was poking about in the garden in the loose soil. Suddenly there was a frightful report in the house, and a moment after the noise of falling glass. The doctor dashed indoors and in the passage ran into the terrified Annie. “What has happened?” he cried.
“I don’t know,” replied the girl. “In the consulting-room.” . . . The doctor ran there and found Prokop on all fours picking potsherds and pieces of paper off the floor.
“What have you been doing?” cried the doctor.
“Nothing,” said Prokop, and got up guiltily. “A test-tube burst.”
