Is the prime wisdom' “Report to me in one month.” And Mr. Thompson turned to his mail. Tommy left the room full of admiration for Mr. Thompson and of misgivings about Mr. Thomas Leigh. He couldn't see very far ahead, so he went to his old desk in the information bureau, sat down and made up his mind to get back to first principles, as Mr. Grosvenor always preached. Mr. Thompson had said that Tommy must continue to be a college boy; therefore, it was plain that for some reason, not quite so plain, Mr. Thompson wished to get reports from a college boy. Then that he must look at the workmen and see the human beings. By having no theories about Thompson's motives and by not trying to make himself into any kind of expert, he would be able to obey orders. The truth! Thompson was paying for it; Thompson would get it from Thomas F. Leigh. For days Tommy wandered about from place to place, unable to speak to most of his fellow-employees, who were too busy to indulge in heart-to-heart talks with the official college boy who was studying them. At lunch-time it was easier to mix with them as he wished, and he ate out of his lunch-pail as if he were one of them. But there seemed to be a barrier between them and himself, chiefly, he again decided, because his job did not classify--and, therefore, they could not take him into full membership. Moreover, his interest was in listening rather than in talking, and that was almost fatal to perfect frankness, for they didn't know why he was so interested in everything they did and said. They did not quite regard him as a spy, but he was not a blood brother. It was only when they began to tease him and to make clear his abysmal ignorance of their business, and to poke fun at him in all sorts of ways, that the ice was broken. He accepted it all so good-naturedly and was so sincerely anxious to be friends that in the end they took him in. Some of them even told him their troubles. Bill kept on working away at his experiments at home after shop hours, with the usual violent changes in his moods. One evening after a particularly explosive outburst, which ended by his shaking a clenched fist at the carburetor, Bill shouted: “I'll make you do it yet, dodgast ye!” “Bill,” said Tommy, seriously, “tell your partner what the trouble is. Begin at the beginning and use words of one syllable.” “What good will that do, you poor college dude?” “Well, it will enable me to give you a d--d good licking with a free conscience,” said Tommy. “Did you never hear how often inventors' wives have suggested the way out by means of the little door labeled Common Sense? It is in _The Romances of Great Inventors_.” “Well, if you can find the way out of this you are a wonder.” “I am. Go on.” Bill looked at Tommy, who went on, cheerfully, “Be a sport; loosen up.” After a moment Bill spoke calmly, “You know heat is not enough to effect the perfect vaporization of the kerosene.”