The bookcases held all sorts of things except books, although there were plenty of the latter distributed about in such unusual places as the window-seat and the tops of the two chiffoniers. Indeed, a set of encyclopedias of ancient vintage found lodgment along the baseboard on the floor. The bookcases had been consecrated to Science, it appeared, for in the nearer one dozens and dozens of birds’ eggs peered forth from cotton-batting nests and in the other McNatt’s collection of minerals was installed. The study table overflowed with a motley débris of books, papers, a microscope, pieces of wire, bits of wood, a blowpipe, a specimen-jar half filled with a dark-brown liquid that from its appearance and odor was plainly “working,” a mouse-trap--empty, as Willard was relieved to discover--and so many other things that it would be useless to attempt an enumeration of them. Willard was still looking about when McNatt interrupted his inspection. “Would you like to see my minerals?” he asked. Willard politely replied that he would and McNatt opened the doors of the case and thereupon held forth for some ten minutes, during which time Willard pretended interest in various specimens and said “Really?”, “Is that so?” and “Indeed!” dozens of times. When it came to the birds’ eggs he had the courage to say that he wasn’t very much interested, and McNatt passed them by. “I’m thinking of getting rid of them,” he announced. “I need the space for other things. If you hear of anyone who’d like a nice collection I wish you’d let me know.” Willard agreed and was shown some choice things in cocoons, an extensive collection of butterflies and moths which occupied the two lower drawers of McNatt’s chiffonier, several specimens of tree-fungus, a cigar-box full of shells gathered along the river, a pair of chameleons in a shoe-box, a number of small phials filled with liquids of various hues which McNatt assured him were vegetable dyes, another phial of whitish powder that its exhibitor called kaolin, and numerous other wonders. McNatt was quite impressive about the kaolin. “I guess I’m the only one who knows about it,” he said, lowering his voice and looking guardedly toward the door. “It’s immensely valuable, you know.” “Is it?” asked Willard. “Oh, yes. It’s what they make porcelain from. China clay they call it sometimes. There’s a big deposit of it where I found this, and maybe some day I’ll buy the land and develop it. Meanwhile, of course, I’m keeping very quiet about it.” “Of course,” murmured Willard. “And here’s another thing,” continued McNatt. “Take these vegetable dyes. There isn’t one of those you couldn’t make just as well as I did, Harmon!” “You don’t say?”