BIRD-IN-HAND. Do it!--do it!--do it!
PROFESSOR.--as if nothing had happened at all--Perhaps it hasn’t! (_But
again the creature has reappeared_) Oh, _do_ get away!
BIRD-IN-HAND. Chich-a-wee! Che-wee! (_Realizing it is not wanted, it
roams off and begins once more to inspect the room. Before long it
runs its finger down a pile of papers high up on a shelf, and the
papers tip over and fly out across the floor. Fleeing before them_)
Che-wee--Che-wee--Che-wee, Che-wee--Che-wee!
(_The_ PROFESSOR _is now so angry that he has left off being
frightened. He jumps up to rescue his papers._)
PROFESSOR. 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?
BIRD-IN-HAND. (_Derisively_) _Chich-e-wee!_ (_With a sportive dive
it plunges into the chest, tossing up the loosely arranged papers
into fresh confusion. On this last bit of exasperating frivolity the_
PROFESSOR _slams down the lid, and locks it; and the tree imp is boxed
up within. It takes him a moment or two to realize his triumph. It is
a little difficult, indeed, to know on what lines to take it. Has the
locking of the chest, with the hallucination inside, disposed of the
hallucination? 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! I say! I say!
Pick it out! Pick it out! What? What?--What? What?--What? What? What?
What? What? What?--Tweet-weet! wee, wee, wee, wee! Oh, why?--What?--Oh,
why?--What?--Oh, why?
(_The sound is now so faint that the_ PROFESSOR _can scarcely
hear. 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! (_Nevertheless, he gives a last look of
suspicion, and pauses one last second before again applying his mouth
to the speaking-tube_) Ask Dr. Locum to come up. (_Catching sight of
the butterfly net, he goes to put it away, and has just done so when
the_ DOCTOR _enters._)