ry measurement of all these beautiful
growth curves!" said Redwood.

"I been too upthet, Thir," said Mr. Skinner. "If you knew what we been
through--me and the mithith! All thith latht month. We 'aven't known
what to make of it, Thir. What with the henth gettin' tho rank, and the
earwigth, and the canary creeper. I dunno if I told you, Thir--the
canary creeper ..."

"You've told us all that," said Redwood. "The thing is, Bensington, what
are we to do?"

"What are _we_ to do?" said Mr. Skinner.

"You'll have to go back to Mrs. Skinner," said Redwood. "You can't leave
her there alone all night."

"Not alone, Thir, I don't. Not if there wath a dothen Mithith
Thkinnerth. Itth Mithter Benthington--"

"Nonsense," said Redwood. "The wasps will be all right at night. And the
earwigs will get out of your way--"

"But about the ratth?"

"There aren't any rats," said Redwood.

VI.

Mr. Skinner might have foregone his chief anxiety. Mrs. Skinner did not
stop out her day.

About eleven the canary creeper, which had been quietly active all the
morning, began to clamber over the window and darken it very greatly,
and the darker it got the more and more clearly Mrs. Skinner perceived
that her position would speedily become untenable. And also that she had
lived many ages since Skinner went. She peered out of the darkling
window, through the stirring tendrils, for some time, and then went very
cautiously and opened the bedroom door and listened....

Everything seemed quiet, and so, tucking her skirts high about her, Mrs.
Skinner made a bolt for the bedroom, and having first looked under the
bed and locked herself in, proceeded with the methodical rapidity of an
experienced woman to pack for departure. The bed had not been made, and
the room was littered with pieces of the creeper that Skinner had hacked
off in order to close the window overnight, but these disorders she did
not heed. She packed in a decent sheet. She packed all her own wardrobe
and a velveteen jacket that Skinner wore in his finer moments, and she
packed a jar of pickles that had not been opened, and so far she was
justified in her packing. But she also packed two of the hermetically
closed tins containing Herakleophorbia IV. that Mr. Bensington had
brought on his last visit. (She was honest, good woman--but she was a
grandmother, and her heart had burned within her to see such good growth
lavished on a lot of dratted chicks.)

And having packed all