"You're damn right we're in trouble!" said Adam. "A kid doesn't take
care of a pet like a scientist takes care of a guinea pig or a white
rat. If it annoys him, he's liable to pick it up and throw it at a wall!
I might get my head torn off for singing, or you could be dismembered
for making a mistake with one of those toys."
"Some children tear the wings off butterflies," said Mrs. Full. She
stood up. "I'll go and tell the others," she said firmly. "It doesn't
seem to me that we have much time left."
"If we start to bore them--" began Adam, and shut up.
She went out. In about five minutes everyone had come into the box but
Watkins, who was playing the color organ. They discussed the discovery
in low voices, as though the alien children might be listening; Villa
and Summersby examined the slates. After a while Watkins was pushed in,
looking rather worn and frayed. Adam was standing in the far corner
under the silver web. He saw the wall start to slide shut, remembered
his dowel, and tried to see if it was still in place at the bottom of
the wall.
He couldn't see it. Maybe it blended with the color behind it, or maybe
somebody had accidentally kicked it out of place.
The wall slid shut.