Give me my marble!
Scythe.
Why, boy, this is no marble. ’Tis a very rare specimen of the dewdrop form of crystallization, precipitated during the prevalence of the primeval sand-storms, formed by the cooling of the stony vapors.
Boy.
Give me my marble, or I’ll call my mother!
Whetstone.
Professor, you may have picked up the wrong specimen.
Scythe.
There can be no mistake. Let me examine it with my microscope. [Examining it.] I clearly recognize the uniformity of its circular strata of color, which could be formed only as it revolved on its own incandescent axis in super-heated fires. Boy, look through this glass, and then see if you have the youthful cheek to say it is—I tremble to say it—your marble.
Boy [looking at it through the glass].