"Now don't get sore, Professor. Just give out on what made the grass go wild." "I can only hazard a guess. As I told Weener, if you create a capacity, you engender an appetite. I imagine that patch of _Cynodon dactylon_ just couldnt stop absorbing once it had been inoculated." "Aha. Like giving a man a taste for bourbon." "If it pleases you to put it that way." "O K. O K. Now let's have an idea how this growth can be stopped. Theoretical, you know." "As far as I know," said Miss Francis, "it cannot be stopped." TWO _Consequences of a Discovery_ _11._ "But it's got to be stopped," exclaimed Gootes. Miss Francis turned silently back to her flowerpot as though she'd forgotten us. Gootes coursed the kitchenfloor like a puzzled yet anxious hound. "Damn it, it's got to be stopped." He halfway extracted his pack of cards, then hastily withdrew his hand as though guarding the moment's gravity. "Otherwise ... why, otherwise itll swallow the house." He decided on the cards afterall and balanced four of them edgewise on the back of his hand. Miss Francis immediately abandoned the flowerpot to stare childishly at the feat. "In fact, if what you say is true, it will literally swallow up the house. Digest it. Convert it into devilgrass." "_Cynodon dactylon._ What I say is true. How much elementary physics is involved in that trick?" "But that's terrible," protested Gootes. He regarded a bowl of algae as if about to make it disappear. Mentally I agreed; one of the greatest potential moneymakers of the age lost and valueless. "Yes," she agreed, "it is terrible. Terrible as the starvation in a hive when the apiarist takes out the winter honey; terrible as the daily business in an abattoir; terrible as the appetite of grown fish at spawning time." "Poo. Fate. Kismet. Nature." "Ah; you are unconcerned with catastrophes which don't affect man." "Local man," substituted Gootes. "Los Angeles man. _Pithecanthropus moviensis._ Stiffs in Constantinople are strictly AP stuff." "It seems to me," I broke in, "that you are both assuming too much. I don't know of anything that calls for the word catastrophe. I'm sure I'm sorry if the Dinkmans' house is swallowed up as Gootes suggests, but it hasnt been and I'm sure the possibility is exaggerated. The authorities will do something or the grass will stop growing. I don't see any point in looking at the blackest side of things." Gootes opened his mouth in pretended astonishment. "Wal, I swan. Boy's a philosopher." "You are not particularly concerned, Weener?" "I don't know any reason why I should be," I retorted. "I sold your product in good faith and I am not responsible--"