John Beason had never been shaken by a genuine emotion until the day he
read that Dr. Karl Hubers had lost his eyesight and must give up his
work. In the horror, the rage and the grief which swept over him then,
Beason rose to the heights of a human being, never to be quite without
humanship again. When he came back that fall, Professor Hastings was
quick to sense the change.
Beason was given a place in Dr. Hubers' old laboratory, as one of Mr.
Willard's assistants. That first morning, after he had been in there
about an hour, he came out to Professor Hastings, who chanced to be
alone.
"I don't know whether I want to stay in there or not," the boy jerked
out.
He told him that Dr. Hubers would like to have him there. "You know he
liked you," he said simply.
Beason sat a long time pondering. "Well, they'll never have another man
like him," he said at last, savagely, and choking a little.
After the first few weeks his attitude toward Ernestine took on a
complexity an analysis of which would have greatly astounded Mr.
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