He did not believe this. One thing was sure, the gleaming white balls were handled with the care usually bestowed upon rare eggs.
Jimmie did not like the faces he saw. They had hard eyes that gleamed like glass balls. One man was short and stout, the other tall and thin with a beak-like nose.
The short man began to speak. The tall one hushed him up. Then he started to speak. He, in turn, was interrupted by the invisible owner of the hands.
After that, one by one, the egg-like things were returned to their former place.
Jimmie knew there were beads of perspiration on his nose. He felt cold all over. It was strange standing there seeing much but understanding nothing.
The trio sat down. The hands disappeared. The third man was still invisible.
There was more talk, quite a lot of it, none of which was heard by Jimmie and John.
Then other hands appeared, the hands of the short, stout man.
“Two fingers gone on his left hand,” Jimmie whispered.
“Good eyes, boy,” John whispered back.