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“I won’t say a word to anyone.”
    â€œWill you promise?” Danny said earnestly.
    The meteorologist nodded and raised his right hand. “I give you my most solemn promise that I won’t breathe a word about your—what did you call it?”
    â€œWell, we haven’t any actual name for it yet. Joe calls it IT.”
    â€œAll right. You have my promise, whatever its name is.” Mr. Elswing glanced at the clock above the soda counter. “I must run. I just happened to see you through the window, and thought I’d say hello.”
    He clucked to Vanderbilt, who rose up ponderously and gave Irene a farewell look and a longing sigh. “Bring your machine around to the weather station tomorrow,” he added. “It sounds as though it has possibilities. We’ll keep it secret, but anything that can give me all the tea I want is worth studying. And I like to encourage young amateur scientists.”
    He waved gaily to them, and went off with Vanderbilt at his heels. Danny looked after them with a sullen frown.
    â€œWhat’s the matter?” said Irene. “I think he’ll really keep his promise. Is that what you’re worried about? He may be a little touched, but he looks honest.”
    â€œâ€™Tisn’t that,” said Danny. “It’s what he called me: amateur !”
    He rested his chin gloomily on both hands. “What does he think I am, some kid in first grade? And you know what?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI got the feeling that he didn’t really believe me. About the ray, I mean.”
    â€œWell, if he didn’t, so much the better,” said Irene comfortingly. “That’s the best way to keep it secret, isn’t it?”
    â€œI guess so,” said Danny. “But it’s very insulting to me.”
    â€œWhat’s insulting?” Joe had just come in, and he slid onto the stool next to Danny’s. “Something more insulting than what I’ve got?”
    He grinned, but it was a crooked grin. One of his eyes was puffy, and the skin around it was already turning the rich colors of an autumn sunset.
    â€œGolly! What happened to you?” Danny asked.
    Irene leaned over, looking troubled. “Does it hurt?”
    â€œOnly when I look through it,” said Joe wryly. “It was a present from Snitcher Philips.”
    Eddie Philips was a stocky, broad-shouldered boy who was known to his schoolmates as “Snitcher” because of his bad habit of telling on other people.
    â€œI met him on the corner of Jefferson Street,” Joe continued, gingerly touching his eye with one finger. “I don’t know why he got so mad. All I said was, ‘Good morning, Eddie.’ ”
    â€œIs that all?” said Danny in surprise.
    â€œSure, that’s all.” Joe waved to the counterman. “Let’s order. I guess I’ll have a hot fudge sundae for me, and a piece of ice for my eye.”
    They got their ice cream, and Irene kindly gave Joe the cherry from the top of her sundae, while Danny gave him a piece of banana from his. Joe cheered up and began to eat.
    â€œSeems kind of funny that he should punch you in the eye just for saying hello,” Irene said, spooning up caramel sauce.
    â€œOh, he was in a bad mood. I said, ‘Good morning,’ and then I asked where he was going. He said he was going to visit an uncle of his who works at the weather station.”
    â€œMr. Elswing? His uncle?”
    â€œYep. So then I said, ‘Oh, you mean that nut? No wonder he has a split personality. And then he said, ‘You keep your trap shut or I’ll split your personality.’ And I said something like ‘What do you do at the weather station, Snitcher? Do you snitch on what the weather’s going to be?’ And we went on and exchanged a few more friendly jokes that way, and all of a sudden he hit me.”
    â€œOh. I see,” said Irene with a