"Sensitive plants. And when I came they all lowered their branches to their sides like—well, slowly, like this—"
She held her right arm out straight and lowered it slowly and steadily to her side. And a most graceful and shapely arm it was.
"I would n't have been so much surprised," she continued, "to just see leaves fold together, like clover. You know clover leaves all shut up at night and go to sleep. But these plants were quite large and they actually moved. And of course the leaves shut together, too; they were long like little tender locust leaves, and each one folded itself right in the middle."
She placed her hands edge to edge and closed them together to show him.
"But, you know, while they were doing that, they were folding back against their long stems, and the stems were folding back against the branches, and the straight branches were all folding downwards against the main stalk. What I mean is that everything worked together, like this—"
Janet extended both arms with her fingers widely spread; then, as her arms gradually lowered, her fingers closed together.
"It was something like that," she added, "but not exactly; it was ten times as much—something like the ribs of an umbrella going down all around, with stems and rows of locust leaves all along them closing together. And every little leaf was like a rabbit laying back its ears."
"Yes; I know what you mean," said Steve. "They are a kind of mimosa. Some people call them that."
"Well," said Janet, "I sat and watched one. I just touched it with a hatpin and it did that. A person would almost think it had intelligence. And after a while—when it thought I was gone, I suppose—it began to open its leaves and stems and put its arms out again."
She raised her arms slowly, spreading her fingers. Steve was a most attentive listener and spectator. He rather wished there were other plants to imitate.