THE GIANT CHILDREN
"They don't seem to realise—" he said to Cossar.
"No, they don't."
"And do we? Sometimes, when I think of what it means— This poor child of Redwood's—and, of course, your three. . . Forty feet high, perhaps!. . . After all, ought we to go on with it?"
"Go on with it!" cried Cossar, convulsed with inelegant astonishment and pitching his note higher than ever. "Of course you'll go on with it! What d'you think you were made for? Just to loaf about between meal-times?
"Serious consequences," he screamed, "of course! Enormous. Obviously. Ob-viously. Why, man, it's the only chance you'll ever get of a serious consequence! And you want to shirk it!" For a moment his indignation was speechless. "It's downright Wicked!" he said at last, and repeated explosively, "Wicked!"
But Bensington worked in his laboratory now with more emotion than zest. He couldn't tell whether he wanted serious consequences to his life or not; he was a man of quiet tastes. It was a marvellous discovery, of course, quite marvellous, but— He had already become the proprietor of several acres of scorched, discredited property near Hickleybrow, at a price of nearly £90 an acre; and at times he was disposed to think this as serious a consequence of speculative chemistry as any unambitious man could wish. Of course he was Famous—terribly Famous. More than satisfying, altogether more than satisfying, was the Fame he had attained.
But the habit of Research was strong in him. . . .
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