"This is all very interesting," quoth the Colonel. "How it does one good to talk with a genuine enthusiast on these delightful subjects! You are trying for the blue dahlia, of course?"
"I've got it, sir," responded the balloonist, with triumphant emphasis. He was now prepared to go any lengths, trusting that Fate would see the thing through satisfactorily.
The Colonel skipped about in the wildest excitement.
"Got the blue dahlia? Why, I have only got half way to it, and I thought I was farther than most men. You know, of course, that there is a prize of a thousand pounds offered for that unique production? Have you claimed it?"
"I didn't care to," said Hampton, carelessly. "Frankly, there are so many poor men trying for the prize—praiseworthy toilers who finish a hard day's work by an evening's tending of some cottage garden—that I could not bear to step in and take the prize. I have quite enough money, too; I should scarcely know what to do with more."
The airy invisibility of the stranger, the unwontedness of the scene, must have played havoc with the Colonel's credulity. He absorbed everything, as a dry sponge sucks up water. The aeronaut's car was shaking visibly.
"But that is not all," said the latter recklessly. "I promptly set to work on a new colour, and I produced——"
"Yes, yes—you produced——"
"A pea-green dahlia, twelve inches in diameter."
"My dear, my very dear sir," cried the Colonel, well-nigh hysterical with wonder and delight, "I insist on your coming down at once from that tree and partaking of luncheon with me. I have some excellent '49 port, and we'll discuss the two subjects together. Really, it is very remiss of me not to have suggested your coming down sooner; the situation is not well adapted to conversation, and doubtless you are far from comfortable."