He hovered about amidst his preparations, a pensive, dark, little
figure. If you could have seen him there he would have looked to you
like a ten-inch man amidst common nursery things. A great rug--indeed it
was a Turkey carpet--four hundred square feet of it, upon which young
Redwood was soon to crawl--stretched to the grill-guarded electric
radiator that was to warm the whole place. A man from Cossar's hung
amidst scaffolding overhead, fixing the great frame that was to hold the
transitory pictures. A blotting-paper book for plant specimens as big as
a house door leant against the wall, and from it projected a gigantic
stalk, a leaf edge or so and one flower of chickweed, all of that
gigantic size that was soon to make Urshot famous throughout the
botanical world ...

A sort of incredulity came to Redwood as he stood among these things.

"If it really _is_ going on--" said Redwood, staring up at the remote
ceiling.

From far away came a sound like the bellowing of a Mafficking bull,
almost as if in answer.

"It's going on all right," said Redwood. "Evidently."

There followed resounding blows upon a table, followed by a vast crowing
shout, "Gooloo! Boozoo! Bzz ..."

"The best thing I can do," said Redwood, following out some divergent
line of thought, "is to teach him myself."

That beating became more insistent. For a moment it seemed to Redwood