ful!" a woman's voice chimed in. "I'm sure something dreadful will happen! This is about the tenth time something has blown up around here, and"
"It's only the ninth, Mrs. Baggert," interrupted Tom, somewhat indignantly.
"Well, goodness me! Isn't nine almost as bad as ten? There I was, just putting my bread in the oven," went on Mrs. Baggert, the housekeeper, "and I was so startled that I dropped it, and now the dough is all over the kitchen floor. I never saw such a muss."
"I'm sorry," answered the youth, trying not to laugh. "We'll see that it doesn't happen again."
"Yes; that's what you always say," rejoined the motherly-looking woman, who looked after the interests of Mr. Swift's home.
"Well, we mean it this time," retorted the lad. "We see where our mistake was; don't we. Mr. Sharp?"
"I think so," replied the other seriously.
"Come on back, and we'll see what damage was done," proposed Tom. "Maybe we can rig up another container, mix some fresh gas, and make the final experiment this afternoon."
"Now do be careful," cautioned Mr. Swift, the aged inventor, once more. "I'm afraid you two have set too hard a task for yourselves this time."
