“Oh, give me a home where the viruses roam,

Where the bugs and the microbes all play,

When often is heard an old bloodsucker’s word,

And the test tubes stand stinkin’ all day.”

The door swung closed and his voice faded down the corridor.

Alexander laughed. Bannister said, “Don’t laugh at him. It just makes him worse.” He crossed to the bench and picked up the blood specimens, glancing casually at the work sheet with them. Halfway across the lab he stopped.

“Hey, there’s a blood sample here from a Mrs. Alexander. Is that your wife?”

Alexander put down the pipette he had been using and moved across. “It probably is. Dr. Dornberger sent her in for a sensitivity test.” He took the work sheet and looked down it. “Yes, it’s Elizabeth all right.”

“It says typing and sensitivity both,” Bannister said.

“I expect Dr. Dornberger wanted to be sure. Actually Elizabeth is Rh negative.” As an afterthought he added, “I’m Rh positive.”

Expansively, and with a fatherly air of great knowledge, Bannister said, “Oh well, most of the time that doesn’t cause any trouble.”

“Yes, I know. All the same, you like to be sure.”

“Well, here’s the specimen.” Bannister picked out the test tube labeled “Alexander, Mrs. E.” and held it up. “Do you want to do the test yourself?”

“Yes, I would. If you don’t mind.”

Bannister never objected to someone else doing work which might otherwise fall to himself. He said, “It’s all right with me.” Then, glancing at the clock, he added, “You can’t do it tonight though. It’s quitting time.” He replaced the test tube and handed the tray to Alexander. “Better put this lot away until the morning.”

Alexander took the blood samples and put them in the lab refrigerator. Then, closing the refrigerator door, he paused thoughtfully.

“Carl, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

Bannister was busily clearing up. He always liked to leave right on the dot of five. Without turning his head he asked, “What is it?”

“The blood-sensitization tests we’re doing here—I’ve been wondering about them.”

“Wondering what?”

Alexander chose his words carefully. Right from the beginning, because of his own college training, he had realized the possibility of arousing resentment in people like Bannister. He tried now, as he had before, to avoid giving offense. “I noticed we’re only doing two sensitization tests—one in saline, the other in high protein.”

“So?”

“Well,” Alexander said diffidently, “isn’t just doing the two tests alone . . . a bit out of date?”

Bannister had finished clearing up. He came around the center table, wiping his hands on a paper towel. He said sharply, “Suppose you tell me why.”

Alexander ignored the sharpness. This was important. He said, “Most labs nowadays are doing a third test—an indirect Coombs—after the test in saline.”

“A ‘what’ test?”

“An indirect Coombs.”

“What’s that?”

“Are you kidding?” The moment the words were out Alexander knew he had made a tactical mistake. But he had spoken impulsively, reasoning that no serology technician could fail to know of an indirect Coombs test.

The senior technician bridled. “You don’t have to get smart.”

Hastily trying to repair the damage, Alexander replied, “I’m sorry, Carl. I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”

Bannister crumpled the paper towel and threw it into a waste bin. “Well, that’s the way it did sound.” He leaned forward aggressively, his bald head reflecting a light bulb above. “Look, fella, I’ll tell you something for your own good. You’re fresh out of school, and one thing you haven’t found out is that some things they teach you there just don’t work out in practice.”

“This isn’t just theory, Carl.” Alexander was in earnest now, his blunder of a moment ago seeming unimportant. “It’s been proven that some antibodies in the blood of pregnant women can’t be detected either in a saline solution or high protein.”

“And how often does it happen?” Bannister put the question smugly, as if knowing the answer in advance.

“Very seldom.”

“Well, there you are.”

“But it’s enough to make the third test important.” John Alexander was insistent, trying to penetrate Bannister’s unwillingness to know. “Actually it’s very simple. After you’ve finished the saline test you take the same test tube—”

Bannister cut him off. “Save the lecture for some other time.” Slipping off his lab coat, he reached for the jacket of his suit behind the door.

Knowing it to be a losing argument, Alexander still went on. “It isn’t much more work. I’d be glad to do it myself. All that’s needed is Coombs serum. It’s true it makes the testing a little more expensive . . .”

This was familiar ground. Now Bannister could understand better what the two of them were talking about. “Oh, yeah!” he said sarcastically. “That would go great with Pearson. Anything that’s more expensive is sure to be a big hit.”

“But don’t you understand?—the other way isn’t foolproof.” Alexander spoke tensely; without realizing it he had raised his voice. “With the two tests we’re doing here you can get a negative test result, and yet a mother’s blood may still be sensitized and dangerous to the baby. You could kill a newborn child that way.”

“Well, it isn’t your job to worry about it.” This was Bannister at his crudest, the words almost snarled.

“But—”

“But nothing! Pearson isn’t keen on new ways of doing things—especially when they cost more money.” Bannister hesitated, and his manner became less aggressive. He was aware that it was one minute to five and he was anxious to wind this up and get away. “Look, kid, I’ll give you some advice. We’re not doctors, and you’d be smart to quit trying to sound like one. We’re lab assistants and we work in here the way we’re told.”

“That doesn’t mean to say I can’t think, does it?” It was Alexander’s turn to be aroused. “All I know is, I’d like to see my wife’s test done in saline, and in protein, and in Coombs serum. You may not be interested, but this baby happens to be important to us.”

At the door the older man surveyed Alexander. He could see clearly now what he had not realized before—this kid was a troublemaker. What was more, troublemakers had a habit of involving other people in uncomfortable situations. Maybe this smart-aleck college graduate should be allowed to hang himself right now. Bannister said, “I’ve told you what I think. If you don’t like it you’d better go see Pearson. Tell him you’re not satisfied with the way things are being run around here.”

Alexander looked directly at the senior technician. Then he said quietly, “Maybe I will.”

Bannister’s lip curled. “Suit yourself. But remember—I warned you.”

With a final glance at the clock he went out, leaving John Alexander in the laboratory alone.