Several of the Vandas and the Dendrobium died under his care, but presently the strange orchid began to show signs of life. He was delighted, and took his housekeeper right away from jam-making to see it at once, directly he made the discovery.
“That is a bud,” he said, “and presently there will be a lot of leaves there, and those little things coming out here are aërial rootlets.”
“They look to me like little white fingers poking out of the brown. I don’t like them,” said his housekeeper.
“Why not?”
“I don’t know. They look like fingers trying to get at you. I can’t help my likes and dislikes.”
“I don’t know for certain, but I don’t think there are any orchids I know that have aërial rootlets quite like that. It may be my fancy, of course. You see they are a little flattened at the ends.”
“I don’t like ’em,” said his housekeeper, suddenly shivering and turning away. “I know it’s very silly of me—and I’m very sorry, particularly as you like the thing so much. But I can’t help thinking of that corpse.”
“But it may not be that particular plant. That was merely a guess of mine.”
His housekeeper shrugged her shoulders.
“Anyhow I don’t like it,” she said.