"Why, uncle, there is everything yet. Nothing, nothing has been found out compared with what there must be. And to be content not to try is like—well, like a painter going on copying old pictures all his life."
I reproved him quietly, for it was out of the question to enter into an argument. Then I sent him to play in the garden, and went back to my own work. I only mention the incident now to show how immature and undisciplined his ideas were.
Some days later Bobbie approached me with a formal request. At the bottom of the garden he had found a tool-house which no one seemed to use, but it contained a bench and a fireplace, and was fitted with gas and water. Could he have this place "to do as he liked there?" I impressed on his young mind the fact that this would be a considerable privilege by withholding my decision for two days, and putting him on a rigorous trial during that period. But I need hardly say that the prospect of removing him to the bottom of the garden for the greater part of his visit was equally attractive to me, so at the end of the two days, after telling him that I was disappointed in him on the whole, I gave him permission. Nay, more, having just restocked the shelves and cupboards of my laboratory, I allowed him to carry away all the superfluous acids and reagents, and an accumulation of faulty test-tubes and other unserviceable glass.
I claim no particular merit in this; the liquids would otherwise have gone down the sink and the glass into the dust-cart, but the fact remains, and although I have never mentioned the obligation before, it is obvious that if the boy had really chanced to stumble upon any insignificant discovery (which I had never for a moment been disposed to admit), no inconsiderable share of the performance might be justly apportioned elsewhere.
