“Seizes people!” his wife repeated, wringing her hands. “We saw it.”
“It clings to you,” the girl added tremulously. “Clings to you. If it goes on growing——!”
Her mother gave a sharp scream, and her father groaned.
“If it goes on growing—!” they said together.
“It won’t,” I assured them, with an indifferent appearance of confidence. “Those things that grow like—like fungi—never do. It will shrivel up suddenly, and let people go again. I don’t suppose they’re really hurt, only frightened. In an hour or so you’ll be on your way home, and laughing about it; and I shall be thanking the—the fungus—for some pleasant acquaintances. I look upon this as a little surprise party.”
The girl wiped her eyes and forced a smile.
“A little surprise party,” she agreed. “What are you going to do for our entertainment, Mr. Adamson?—I saw the name on the door-plate.”
“Henry Adamson,” I said, “and very much at your service, Miss Viva—I have some cards, but——”
I paused doubtfully. Her mother held up a trembling hand, and her father shook his head.
“We won’t have any fool’s games,” he said. “Let’s talk.”