Laurence Housman

“ Oh, well, and if you would kindly rearrange that screen? I still feel rather a draught.
(Miss Tuckey goes and readjusts the screen. It is evident that, as she goes behind it, no apparition confronts her; she emerges as machine-like as ever, calm and collected.) ”

“ Putting aside Elfrida’s letter, conspicuous by reason of its being written on pink paper, reminds him of the vanished leaf. He gives a momentary look for it to right and left: but the thing is unimportant, and dismissing it, he gets to work. This so entirely absorbs him that he is unaware of being looked at. Above the top of the writing-table a pair of strange eyes gradually emerge. Dark and insect-like, they stare at him [Pg 12] out of a small green face, sharp, queer, and suggestive of a brain with a vivacious but detached standpoint. Out of the head sprout long horns or antennae ”

“ He again dips his pen and resolutely starts writing. There comes another “Oh, why” which he does not hear. His nerves are recovering somewhat, encouraged by the ensuing silence; but he gives a sharp start when the whistle of the speaking-tube blows. He unstops it and listens.)
Professor. Oh, yes. Will you ask him to wait one moment? (He gets up and goes cautiously toward the chest, stops and listens at it for a moment, with apprehension that turns to a sort of doubtful relief) Nothing, nothing there, at all! ”

“ Adjoining the writing-table is a smaller one, on which stands a typewriter. All about the room, on tables and systematically arranged, and suggestive of the strict order imposed by a meticulous mind. There is one door to right, another to left, the latter leading to an inner chamber. On the writing-table lie papers and a portable speaking-tube. A telephone, a waste-paper basket, and a revolving book-stand are within easy reach of the Professor’s chair, while behind it is a screen partly covering the door leading to the inner chamber. ”

“ While he is thus tackling the problem the creature shifts its position, and now standing at his back, views him from a fresh standpoint with the same blank stare of a curiosity that comprehends nothing. ”

“ The limits [Pg 9] of sensory receptivity are patent to every scientist.”
Miss Tuckey. The limits of what?—I beg pardon.
Professor. “Sen-sory re-ceptivity”—in other words, the receptivity of the senses. “That fact, however, does not provide any legitimate ground for a belief in those magical or supernatural occurrences through which, as I apprehend, you seek to counter-balance the deductions of science. I find no reason to doubt that however much still lies beyond the apprehension of our senses, it must all nevertheless be within the range of a scientific explanation. ”

“ The Professor opens his eyes again. Will-power has apparently prevailed. He no longer sees the object of his aversion) That’s better! (He begins cautiously to turn his head first to right then to left. It gives him a great start to find the green horned creature close behind him. This is too much like having a caterpillar down his back for equanimity. Irrepressibly he jumps up)
Professor. Get out!
Bird-in-Hand. Che-wee—che-wee—chewee—chewee—chewee! ”

“ Everybody would think that I was mad— Well, I must—I must try to get on with my work. (He composes himself to write. Presently there enters an attractive little figure in a knitted cap, jersey, and skirt of bright green. This is Elfrida. She advances very quietly, with a roguish smile, stops at the table and stands looking at him. Suddenly, with the tail of his eye, the Professor catches sight of her. It gives him a dreadful start; but a look at her over the top of his glasses reassures him) Effie! Why, Effie, my dear, what a start you gave me! ”

“ My Dear Madam, Your very flattering proposal to arrange a compendium from my various studies in Objective Science, entitled ‘Sufficient unto the Day,’ and intended to provide a basis for the accurate biological training of the very young, gives gratifying evidence of the interest you take in and the value which you attach to my literary labors. ”

“ Miss Tuckey—Are you there?—Tut! Tut! Why does the woman hurry so? (He gets up a little testily to remove his Benger bowl to a side-table, and progressing with very short steps places it unsecurely on a projecting book whence it falls and breaks. He accepts the fact philosophically so far as infirmity will allow; but there is a gentle querulousness in his tone as he says—) There, there! ”

“ Doctor. No, no, Nerves a little bit upset, that’s all!—a little too much work, a little too much sitting still, a little too much indoors—and a little too much green tea. Many a little makes a mickle.
Professor. I don’t want it to occur again, Doctor.
Doctor. It shan’t, sir, it shan’t! Now, good-bye; I must be off!
Professor. Thank you. Good-bye. (The Doctor goes out. The Professor stands looking at the chest) And to think how I saw it go in there! (He goes and stands by the chest; listens for a long time, then taps) Is anyone—?—Is anything there?—Ah! ”

“ And the Professor’s eyes turn toward the chest)
Doctor. Ah! but you shouldn’t do that! you must take more care of yourself. Your heart isn’t what it was. Mustn’t expect it at your age. Now then, let’s see! (Withdraws and examines thermometer)
Professor. Circumstances, over which I have no control, caused me to exert myself.
Doctor. Well you know, there’s not much wrong. Temperature about normal.
Professor. Doctor, a most extraordinary thing has just happened. I must tell you about it.
Doctor. H’m—h’m? (He sits down)
Professor. I was sitting here at my work—I was writing—there! as you see. ”

“ This seems to be a signal to a mind methodically trained. The Professor consults his watch, starts, looks reproachfully at the clock, then quits the typewriter, picks up his bowl of Benger, and spooning from it on the way goes to the speaking-tube, which having unstopped, he breathes into. The exertion sets him coughing; but he does this, like most other things, patiently and methodically. After listening at the tube he speaks down it, and you hear a bisected conversation.
Professor Braintree. Is that you, Miss Tuckey?—Yes, I’m ready for you—I’m ready, I say—if you will, please. Yes. ”

“ His doubt is solved almost at once, for from the inside of the chest the hallucination once more becomes audible) What? What? What?—I say! Let it out! Let it out! Quick! Quick!—-Oh, why?— (A pause. The Professor stands considering; he has the key. He retreats toward the table, and lays it down. The chest continues to give forth sound. A tapping begins upon the lid, and in a gradual diminuendo the chattering goes on. The Professor dips a pen, and tries to resume his writing, but his interest is still held) I say! ”

“ Hallucination, you are a perfect nuisance!
Bird-in-Hand. (Coaxingly) Che-wee-wee?
(The Professor collects the strewn papers from the floor; and as he goes about gathering them up, the creature follows him, with round inquisitive eyes at all he does. He opens chest and begins to deposit the papers inside. Curious to spy into this new interior, the creature stretches out a hand.)
Professor. (Very irritably) Why can’t you let things alone? ”

“ But, but this is an hallucination!
[Pg 13]
Bird-in-Hand. Chich-a-wee!
Professor. An hallucination, I say!
Bird-in-Hand. Chich-a-wee!
Professor. (Trying to reject the evidence of his senses) No, no, no!—I must be ill!—Over-work!
Bird-in-Hand. Chip-chip-chip-chip-chewee-e-e!
Professor. What—Am I going out of my senses? (He makes a dive for the telephone) Station 1228, please—yes! 1 double 2, 8!
Bird-in-Hand. Two-eight! Two-eight!—Eight! eight! eight! eight! eight! eight! ”