Mr. Waite chuckled. 'You'll see, my boy. All in good time; all in good time.'
The town of St. Brian lies not far from the south coast of Cornwall. A swift river, the Bod, flows through it on its way to join the English Channel at a point where it is almost the Atlantic Ocean. To the north one can see those strange, dazzling white cones which are the refuse of the clay pits, and from the higher points it is possible to trace the course of the Bod right down to the sea in the south.
The houses are mostly built of grey stone, their roofs clamped down upon them lest they should be whirled off by the gales which in winter sweep in from the Atlantic. In sheltered spots, where they are able to take advantage of kindly climate, flowers and plants thrive, as was excellently testified by Mr. Waite's garden.
Dinner concluded, he led the way importantly across a stretch of smooth lawn to the thick hedge masking the far corner of his ground. As they reached a gap he paused, and with something of the manner of a showman, waved his son forward.
There, my boy,' he said proudly. 'Just take a look at that!'
Ralph, as he stepped forward to the hedge, was fully prepared to be impressed, but at the sight which met him, the nicely turned phrases he had thought up for the other's gratification fled away. He stared speechlessly for a moment, then:
'What on earth's that?' he demanded.
'Ah, I thought it'd surprise you. Fine growth, what?'
'But—what is the thing?' persisted Ralph, gazing in horrified fascination.
'Well,' Mr. Waite admitted doubtfully, 'I don't think it's been named yet—sort of experiment they got me to try out. A new form of marrow or something of the sort, I gather. Wait a minute, and I'll get the letter ...'
He bustled across the lawn while his son turned to regard the 'fine growth' with renewed interest. Experiment or not, he decided that it was quite one of the most unwholesome looking plants he had ever seen. Roughly spherical, it reminded him mostly of a pumpkin with a diameter every bit of two feet.
But it was not so much the size which was responsible for his surprise as the colour. It lay before him, clammily glistening in the evening sunlight, a ball of blotchy, virulent yellow. The ground all round it was bare, and it lay on one side attached to the earth only by a poor, twisted wisp of a stalk, as foolishly disproportionate as a pig's tail.
'Must be a good weight, a thing that size,' he muttered to himself. With some distaste, he inserted his hand beneath it, and then stared at the thing in blank surprise. It weighed possibly a pound.
He was still staring at it when Mr. Waite returned with a paper fluttering in his hand.
'Here you are. That, and the instructions for growing, are all I know about it.'
Ralph took the typewritten letter. It was headed 'Slowitt 8c Co.,' and underneath in smaller type was added: 'Agents for Experimental Growers' Company.'
Dear Sir [he read], In the course of our experimental work we have succeeded in evolving a new form of vegetable. We have the greatest hopes that this extremely prolific plant will successfully adapt itself to a great range of climatic conditions. In so far as we have been able to reproduce the various conditions in our laboratories, the results leave nothing to be desired, and we now feel that the time has come to put the plant to test in the actual climates it will have to face.
Our agents, in pursuance of our instructions to find persons likely to be interested in this development, forwarded us your name as that of a consistently successful exhibitor at a number of fruit and vegetable shows, and as one who takes an interest in the scientific side of horticulture. We have, therefore, great pleasure in asking you if you would consider assisting us in the introduction of this new form ...
Ralph read far enough to enable him to grasp essentials. 'This is all very well, Dad,' he remarked. 'But what on earth's the good of the thing? It must be hollow; have you felt its weight?'
'Oh, that's all right. It says in the growing instructions, which they sent with the seeds, that one must not be surprised at the extraordinary lightness. I gather that when it is full-grown it begins to solidify or harden. Though it is a queer looking thing, I'll admit, and so were the seeds.'
He fished in his pocket and found an object which he handed over.
'I kept this one out of curiosity. You see, they've enclosed it—or, rather, several of them—in a kind of capsule. The instructions were emphatic that the capsule must not be opened in any circumstances.'
'Then how―?'
'You just bury the whole thing and water it very plentifully; I suppose that dissolves the capsule and lets the thing begin to grow. It certainly shows a fine turn of speed. You'd never guess how long it is since I planted this chap.' He stirred the yellow ball with his toe.
Ralph did not attempt the guess. 'How long?' he inquired.
'Three days,' said his father with pride. 'Only three days to reach that size! Of course, I'm not sure how long it will be before it's any use, but it's started very well, and——'
But Mr. Waite's intended lecture was frustrated. His wife's voice tactfully summoned him to the house.
'Don't tell anyone about this, yet, my boy. I promised to keep it quiet till the thing should be full-grown,' he said as he hurried across the lawn.
Ralph thankfully departed on his intended visit. Later, he was unable to remember whether it was curiosity or absence of mind which caused the one remaining seed capsule to find its way into his pocket; he only knew that it was lucky he had kept it.
Dorothy Forbes had expected Ralph earlier. She had even employed sundry of her waiting moments in inventing such reproaches as might be becoming in a lady slightly neglected. It was a pleasant mental exercise, but little more; Ralph's method of greeting did not allow of the interview being placed on a dignified basis.
Instead of venting displeasure, she smoothed her frock, shook back her fair hair, wondered for a moment why one should blush quite so warmly, and suggested that there was a swing seat in the garden.
The swing seat was such a success that it was quite half an hour before an object on the other side of the garden caught Ralph's eye and caused him to sit up, staring. Just visible over the top of a cucumber frame was a curved section of a familiar yellow surface.
'Good Lord!' he said.
'What?' asked Dorothy. Following his line of sight, she added: 'Oh. that's one of Daddy's secrets—you're not supposed to see it.'
'Well, now I have seen it, what about a closer view?'
'I suppose it doesn't really matter, but don't tell him you've seen it.'
A few seconds sufficed to settle any lingering doubt. The plant behind the frame was identical with that in his father's garden, though possibly a few inches smaller.
'That's queer,' Ralph murmured.
Dorothy nodded, though she misapplied the remark.
'I think it's horrid. I told Daddy I'm sure it's unhealthy, but he only laughed at me. Somehow I hate the thing. There's such a nasty, poisonous look about that yellow.'
'He's keeping it secret?'
'Yes; he's very jealous about it. He says it will make him famous one day.'
Ralph nodded. This made it queerer still. He considered for a moment. Two people, each thinking himself unique, were growing this most unprepossessing vegetable.
'What about a little walk?' he suggested. Dorothy, with slight surprise at the sudden change of subject, assented.
It was a wandering stroll, apparently aimless. Nevertheless, it took them close to a number of back gardens. Altogether, they counted over twenty of the strange yellow balls.
Chapter Two