Mr. Bensington. "They'd cut up into joints like butcher's meat."
"They won't go on growing at thith pathe though," said Mr. Skinner.
"No?" said Mr. Bensington.
"No," said Mr. Skinner. "I know thith thort. They begin rank, but they don't go on, bleth you! No."
There was a pause.
"Itth management," said Mr. Skinner modestly.
Mr. Bensington turned his glasses on him suddenly.
"We got 'em almoth ath big at the other plathe," said Mr. Skinner, with his better eye piously uplifted and letting himself go a little; "me and the mithith."
Mr. Bensington made his usual general inspection of the premises, but he speedily returned to the new run. It was, you know, in truth ever so much more than he had dared to expect. The course of science is so tortuous and so slow; after the clear promises and before the practical realisation arrives there comes almost always year after year of intricate contrivance, and here--here was the Foods of the Gods arriving after less than a year of testing! It seemed too good--too good. That Hope Deferred which is the daily food of the scientific imagination was to be his no more! So at least it seemed to him then. He came back and stared at these stupendous chicks of his, time after time.
"Let me see," he said. "They're ten days old. And by the side of an ordinary chick
