"I wonder—" she said, half-aloud, "where he's gone to?"
At that moment, the sun went down, and the lid of the box opened up.
"Yipe!" said Mrs. Tibbets, as Vandor Thobal sat up in the box. His hands arrested themselves in the process of brushing the soil from his cloak.
"What are you doing in here!?" he demanded.
"What are you doing there?" she countered, folding her arms.
Vandor swallowed, then seemed to think of something. "The mushrooms," he explained, rising to his awesome full height before her, the tiny clods of earth rolling off his cloak back into the box. "They—They need heat, you see. It's rather chilly here in the cellar at night, and so, I've taken to sleeping in there, hoping my body heat will suffice to help them grow."
"I never heard of such a thing!" said Mrs. Tibbets.
"Did you never hear of a chicken incubating an egg?" he said smoothly.
Mrs. Tibbets was taken aback at this. "Why—Yes, of course, but—"
"It's the same principle, really," he said, flashing his pointed teeth in a wide smile at her.