Redwood turned about and came and stared at his collaborator.

"What do you think of him, Bensington? You can look at this business
with a greater detachment than I can. What am I to do about him?"

"Go on feeding him."

"On Herakleophorbia?"

"On Herakleophorbia."

"And then he'll grow."

"He'll grow, as far as I can calculate from the hens and the wasps, to
the height of about five-and-thirty feet--with everything in
proportion---"

"And then what'll he do?"

"That," said Mr. Bensington, "is just what makes the whole thing so
interesting."

"Confound it, man! Think of his clothes."

"And when he's grown up," said Redwood, "he'll only be one solitary
Gulliver in a pigmy world."

Mr. Bensington's eye over his gold rim was pregnant.