"'Too late,' said Frisby; 'it's sot.' "I was too disgusted to speak, but my disgust turned to anger when I perceived that, as far as the eye could reach, our boilers, lying from three to four hundred feet apart, were ablaze with yellow-and-red posters extolling the 'Eureka Liver Pill Company.' "'It don't cost 'em nothin',' said Frisby, cheerfully; 'I done it fur the fun of it. Purty, ain't it?' "'They are Professor Holroyd's boilers,' I said, subduing a desire to beat Frisby with my telescope. 'Wait until Miss Holroyd sees this work.' "'Don't she like yeller and red?' he demanded, anxiously. "'You'll find out,' said I. "Frisby gaped at his handiwork and then at his yellow dog. After a moment he mechanically spat on a clam-shell and requested Davy to 'sic' it. "'Can't you comprehend that you have ruined our pleasure in the landscape?' I asked, more mildly. "'I've got some green bills,' said Frisby; 'I kin stick 'em over the yeller ones--' "'Confound it,' said I, 'it isn't the color!' "'Then,' observed Frisby, 'you don't like them pills. I've got some bills of the "Cropper Automobile" and a few of "Bagley, the Gents' Tailor"--' "'Frisby,' said I, 'use them all--paste the whole collection over your dog and yourself--then walk off the cliff.' "He sullenly unfolded a green poster, swabbed the boiler with paste, laid the upper section of the bill upon it, and plastered the whole bill down with a thwack of his brush. As I walked away I heard him muttering. "Next day Daisy was so horrified that I promised to give Frisby an ultimatum. I found him with Freda, gazing sentimentally at his work, and I sent him back to the shop in a hurry, telling Freda at the same time that she could spend her leisure in providing Mr. Frisby with sand, soap, and a scrubbing-brush. Then I walked on to my post of observation. "I watched until sunset. Daisy came with her father to hear my report, but there was nothing to tell, and we three walked slowly back to the house. "In the evenings the professor worked on his volumes, the click of his type-writer sounding faintly behind his closed door. Daisy and I played chess sometimes; sometimes we played hearts. I don't remember that we ever finished a game of either--we talked too much. "Our discussions covered every topic of interest: we argued upon politics; we skimmed over literature and music; we settled international differences; we spoke vaguely of human brotherhood. I say we slighted no subject of interest--I am wrong; we never spoke of love.