and a lump of iron—one of the elements—for chemistry. What else is there, Irene?”
Irene frowned. “Well, there’s a tiny magnifying glass for microscopy, and a computer switch for mathematics, and a little nut and bolt for engineering, and a dried cocoon for insect studies, and on my birthday my father gave me a tiny gold tag with Einstein’s equation—E = MC2—engraved on it. That’s for physics.”
“What a list,” laughed Dr. Tresselt. “Excellent! Sounds very complete. But what have you for geology?”
“Gee, I haven’t anything yet. What do you suggest?”
“We must try to find her a little fossil, or perhaps a handsome little crystal of some sort, eh, Bullfinch?”
The Professor nodded. Before he could reply, however, Joe came into the laboratory. “Hello, everybody,” he said. “I just came in to say goodbye. I’ve got to go home for lunch.”
Danny looked innocently at his friend. “Hands all washed?” he asked.
“Sure. Why?”
“But Joe—you don’t mean to say you still have room for lunch?” Irene cried.
“Why not?” Joe said, but his face began to turn red.
Danny put his fingers to his forehead. “I am in contact with the spirit world,” he said, in a mysterious voice. “I am now receiving a message from beyond—from a ghost—from the ghost of a roast chicken. It tells me you went into the refrigerator while my mother was out of the kitchen, and that you took a drumstick and ate it…”
Joe gave a long whistle. Then he shrugged.
“Okay,” he said. “I confess. What did you do, peek through the window?”
“Easier than that,” said Danny. “We watched you through the wall.”
“Uh-huh,” Joe grunted. “Why didn’t you walk right through, then, and show me where the mayonnaise was?”
“It’s true, Joe,” said Irene. “Ask the Professor. We watched you with his new C-ray.”
“Nobody’s safe any more,” Joe mumbled. “I always got into trouble with Danny. Now, I can’t even trust the Professor. Next thing you know, there’ll be rays to make sure you do your homework, and rays that make you wash behind the ears—”
“Come, now, Joe,” said Professor Bullfinch, taking out his pipe and filling it. “Things aren’t quite that bad.”
“Not yet, maybe,” Joe said, gloomily. “I should think you scientists could find something better to invent than a ray for spying on a poor hungry kid like me… pale, and thin… just picking up a few crumbs…”
The others burst into laughter. The Professor said, “Joe, I give you my word I didn’t invent the C-ray to make you unhappy. We’ll never use it to watch you again.”
“That cheers me up,” said Joe, looking sadder than ever.
“I hate to break up the National Research Council convention,” said Mrs. Dunn, putting her head into the room, “but lunch is ready.”
Danny said, “Oh, Mom. Do you think Joe and Irene—”
“I’ve already called their mothers,” Mrs. Dunn said, placidly. “There’s enough lunch for everyone. Joe won’t need quite as much as the rest, as he’s already had part of his.”
“Oh, help!” wailed Joe. “How about that? She’s got a C-ray, too!”
Irene sniffed. “Hmf! You ought to know that mothers don’t need science to find out things. You probably left the drumstick on the table.”
“On a chair, as a matter of fact,” said Mrs. Dunn. “And his face is greasy. Come on, everyone.”
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