(The Professor is now so angry that he has left off being frightened. He jumps up to rescue his papers.)
Professor. Hallucination, you are a perfect nuisance!
Bird-in-Hand. (Coaxingly) Che-wee-wee?
(The Professor collects the strewn papers from the floor; and as he goes about gathering them up, the creature follows him, with round inquisitive eyes at all he does. He opens chest and begins to deposit the papers inside. Curious to spy into this new interior, the creature stretches out a hand.)
Professor. (Very irritably) Why can’t you let things alone?
Bird-in-Hand. (Derisively) Chich-e-wee! (With a sportive dive it plunges into the chest, tossing up the loosely arranged papers into fresh confusion. On this last bit of exasperating frivolity the Professor slams down the lid, and locks it; and the tree imp is boxed up within. It takes him a moment or two to realize his triumph. It is a little difficult, indeed, to know on what lines to take it. Has the locking of the chest, with the hallucination inside, disposed of the hallucination? His doubt is solved almost at once, for from the inside of the chest the hallucination once more becomes audible) What? What? What?—I say! Let it out! Let it out! Quick! Quick!—-Oh, why?—(A pause. The Professor stands considering; he has the key. He retreats toward the table, and lays it down. The chest continues to give forth sound. A tapping begins upon the lid, and in a gradual diminuendo the chattering goes on. The Professor dips a pen, and tries to resume his writing, but his interest is still held) I say! I say! I say! Pick it out! Pick it out! What? What?—What? What?—What? What? What? What? What? What?—Tweet-weet! wee, wee, wee, wee! Oh, why?—What?—Oh, why?—What?—Oh, why?
(The sound is now so faint that the Professor can scarcely hear. He again dips his pen and resolutely starts writing. There comes another “Oh, why” which he does not hear. His nerves are recovering somewhat, encouraged by the ensuing silence; but he gives a sharp start when the whistle of the speaking-tube blows. He unstops it and listens.)
Professor. Oh, yes. Will you ask him to wait one moment? (He gets up and goes cautiously toward the chest, stops and listens at it for a moment, with apprehension that turns to a sort of doubtful relief) Nothing, nothing there, at all! (Nevertheless, he gives a last look of suspicion, and pauses one last second before again applying his mouth to the speaking-tube) Ask Dr. Locum to come up. (Catching sight of the butterfly net, he goes to put it away, and has just done so when the Doctor enters.)
Doctor. How are you, Professor? Nothing very serious, I hope—
(The Professor holds himself in. He is now feeling a little aggrieved at the shock he has experienced.)