If you could have seen him there he would have looked to you like a ten-inch man amidst common nursery things.

A great rug--indeed it was a Turkey carpet--four hundred square feet of it, upon which young Redwood was soon to crawl--stretched to the grill-guarded electric radiator that was to warm the whole place.

A man from Cossar's hung amidst scaffolding overhead, fixing the great frame that was to hold the transitory pictures.

A blotting-paper book for plant specimens as big as a house door leant against the wall, and from it projected a gigantic stalk, a leaf edge or so and one flower of chickweed, all of that gigantic size that was soon to make Urshot famous throughout the botanical world ...
A sort of incredulity came to Redwood as he stood among these things.
"If it really _is_ going on--" said Redwood, staring up at the remote ceiling.
From far away came a sound like the bellowing of a Mafficking bull, almost as if in answer.
"It's going on all right," said Redwood.

"Evidently." There followed resounding blows upon a table, followed by a vast crowing shout, "Gooloo! Boozoo! Bzz ..." "The best thing I can do," said Redwood, following out some divergent line of thought, "is to teach him myself." That beating became more insistent.