"Answer me, you moron!" she shouted. Then she started to cry. Within one minute the seething Amazon had changed into a defenseless white-coated girl cowering in the visitor's chair, weeping bitterly. Whitemarsh approached and held her hand. "Listen, Sally," he told her, "the only reason I was going to let you out of the test was because you know more chemistry than any of the scientists here. But go ahead and take the test; you'll get the highest grade!" She brightened, "You think so?" "Know it," he affirmed gallantly, "now, how about going to the Space Opera at the Symphorium tomorrow? Kluchesky is singing in _Pomme de Terre_." She stiffened slightly and stood up. "Listen, Mr. Frank Whitemarsh! Privately you're not a bad guy. You even had potentialities. But you're a hell of a failure as a boss and the less I see of you, the happier I'll be. Good-bye!" And she was gone. Whitemarsh resumed his contemplation of the Earth with less interest. * * * * * The results of the examination might have been foretold. The intelligent and professionally alert junior chemists retained enough fundamentals to do well. The majority failed the questions on laboratory technique. Consequently Whitemarsh enlisted the aid of the older men to conduct a series of refresher lectures to bring up to date the scientific knowledge of those who failed. The Laboratorians were delighted with the spectacle presented by these lectures, and loved going home at night while erstwhile bosses sat listening to Dr. Sturtevant discuss "The Theory of Washing Precipitates", or to hear Dr. Whitemarsh talk on "Balancing the Redox equation." The Laboratorians' happiness lasted until one day in October. That was the day that Lo Presti retired. The old man was given a small space ship by the Corporation and a space-time chronometer by the Laboratorians. Then he sorrowfully said farewell. The next day the Laboratorians were absorbed into Research. Somebody had to plan for janitor service, figure where to place time cards, design new proficiency ratings and decide on such complex matters as where the Laboratorians were to hang their coats. All these services had been provided for by the miner's shop organization. Whitemarsh stayed late at night for a week arranging the new payroll plan and raising the salaries somewhat. All this was handled, if not without incidents, at least without violence. Even the janitors and secretaries were now part of a team. All but Miss Chester. She had stopped speaking to Whitemarsh in the halls and had been seen in the company of a younger (and Whitemarsh felt) better looking physicist.