In the morning he was up and at his incubator before any one else was stirring. The thermometer indicated that the eggs were a trifle cool, so he turned up the wick of the lamp. Before going to church he turned the eggs. This he did twice daily, being careful not to jar them. The incubator worked well all day and all night. The next day was Monday and he had his school duties to attend to. He left everything in good order, took the attic key to his mother, and went off to school full of confidence. Alas! When mamma went up at ten o'clock, she could scarcely see across the room. Everything was black with soot. The naptha lamp was smoking fiercely. The first thing was to get the window open, and put out the lamp. Then mamma looked at the eggs. Alas, again! There they lay covered with fine black soot. She took up one and tried to wipe it, but succeeded only in making a smirch which she could not wipe off. She knew then that the eggs were spoiled. In the midst of it all August came in from school having been dismissed early. Poor August! He could scarcely keep the tears back. "Well, August," said his mamma very practically, "I don't think a naptha lamp just the thing. They are very apt to smoke, and they are very inflammable." "Yes," said August, trying to be cheerful. "Failure the first! I shall try it again. Grandma will give me some more eggs. I've only lost three days." "And _I_ will go to town this afternoon," said his mother, "and see if I cannot find a lamp which will be more reliable." There was no school that afternoon, so August cleaned the room, and supplied the incubator with fresh eggs, greatly encouraged by his mother's sympathy and interest. The other children were curious enough to know what was going on in the attic; but they could get no information. Toward evening Mrs. Grant returned from town, bringing for her little boy a large tin lamp which would burn kerosene. He lighted it and adjusted the wick to just the right height. Then it was placed within the barrel to warm the second setting of eggs. Day after day August and his mother watched and tended them. Everything progressed finely. On the next Monday the eggs, having been in the incubator a week, were far enough advanced to be tested. At a south window there hung a heavy green Holland curtain. In this mamma allowed August to cut a hole, a little smaller than an egg, and she herself staid to assist him. When all was ready, she handed August the eggs one by one. One by one he held them to the aperture. The first seemed quite transparent. In vain August turned and turned it--there was nothing to be seen but the yolk floating at the top. With a sigh he laid that aside and took up another. "O, mamma, look!" he cried excitedly.