Professor. Thank you, my dear. I’m glad of that— Now, look here, you see that chest? This is the key to it— Now, will you go and open it? And don’t be afraid of anything you find in it—It’s all right.
(Elfrida goes and opens the chest. And while she stands for a moment looking in, nonplussed, there is much more excitement in the Professor’s demeanor than in hers.)
Elfrida. But, Grandpapa, there’s nothing! Oh! (At this cry of discovery the strain on the Professor’s feelings grows intense. Elfrida stoops and picks up something) Why, it’s the leaf!—The leaf of that tree what I sent you!— Oh!
Professor. The leaf, you say?— Bring it here.
Elfrida. And it’s all quite withered and dead! (She brings it across to him, and the Professor looks at it with curious eyes.)
Professor. So it is, to be sure!— Quite withered and dead. Well, there! Put it down, my dear, leave it alone!— And now you had better run away. I must get on with my work.
Elfrida. What shall I do with it, Grandpapa?
Professor. Put it in the waste-paper basket, my dear!— That’s right. Now, run away!
(And so the dead leaf drops to its repose on a bed of scrapped science shiftings. From that fairy-funeral Elfrida turns, down-cast and sad, and with head bent and hands straight as though under some deep disgrace, goes softly out of the room. As the door closes behind her the Professor gives a look into the waste-paper basket, then heaves a sigh of relief, and goes on with his work.)
Curtain.