root worked free, and suddenly the geranium was standing on the edge of the box. Its bright red blossom turned from side to side. There were no eyes visible but Henderson had the chilly feeling that the flower was surveying the room. Then, after a moment, the plant jumped to the sill of the window, from there to the seat of a chair. Then it slid down one of the legs of the chair to the floor.

It shook its leaves, lifted its blossom upward at the amazed Henderson frozen in his chair, and the tiny squeaking voice said cheerily, "Hi, Pal!" Then it started walking across the floor, toward the door, muttering, "Somebody's got to answer that damned door bell."

Henderson's legs came unfroze as it went through the doorway and he made a wild dash after the walking geranium. It was padding down the hall, its roots making little patting sounds on the linoleum as he passed it.

Henderson opened the door, and only then did he begin to realize the scope his rays must have!

He stood, jaws agape, looking down at the rose-bush which stood outside the door. His mouth opened and words tried to come out. But the bush spoke first.

"I've been ringing this bell for hours," it said petulantly. "Some nasty boys have been picking my roses and I'm getting sore!"

Henderson fainted then, and the last thing he remembered was the voice of the geranium saying:

"Hi, Babe, come on in. I been watching you for a long time!"

Transcriber's Note:

This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe March 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note.