enough, though I don't believe he grew the first, as he says, in his
own garden. It's my opinion that one of his collectors sent him the
first bulb; he has collectors all over the world, you know, looking
for new things."

"What is he going to do with it?" Julia asked.

"He is multiplying it at present; at first he had only one, now, of
course, he has a few more; when he has got enough he will hybridise.
You don't know what that is. Cross-breed with it; use the blue with
the old yellow daffodil as parents to new varieties. That's ticklish
work; growers can't afford to do it till they have a fair number of
the new sort; but, of course, they occasionally get something good
that way."

Julia listened, much interested, though, to tell the truth, the money
value of the thing fascinated her more than anything else.

"Will he never sell any of his blue bulbs?" she asked.

"Oh, yes, in time," Cross answered; "but not while they are worth
anything much to the growers."

"What are they worth? I mean, what would it be worth if there was only
one?"

"I don't know; I dare say I could get £400 for the single bulb."

"But if there were more they would not be worth so much? If there were
five, what would they be worth?"