He pointed. The plants were growing in pairs, male and female, and their shameless behavior made me gasp. It was outrageous! It was incredible! It was against Nature! Such abandoned love-making I have never seen in man, beast or bird, let alone a vegetable--and I have seen more than most. The twining stems--the caressing leaves--the squirming, kissing blossoms: I was staring like a silly girl. It was all in the most sensuous of slow-motion, for the things could move as they pleased, or very nearly so. It was like an underwater ballet, completely shameless and completely animal, and I wondered whether any of the town fathers had seen it. If they had, I suspected, Melchizedek Hobbs wouldn't be going about as he was. He'd be in jail, or riding down the turnpike on a rail with a coat of tar and feathers. * * * * * The old duffer cleared his throat with a mournful sort of cough. I suspected that he was completely embarrassed. "You see?" he said plaintively. "These creatures are very near the animal in many respects, although they are botanically true plants. They have many traits which I had never thought to find in the vegetable kingdom. You may remember my remarks on that subject, from your school days." He stared long and gloomily at the rioting blossoms, then cleared his throat nervously. "Eh, yes. These are my young adults, just at the mating age. They are grown in the outer beds, which you have just seen, and brought here when the female begins to mature. The--ah--pollination takes place, as you see, with much demonstrative display on the part of both sexes. I find it closely akin to the nuptial display of certain pheasants, although there are other aspects--but no more of that. The plants are long-lived, and they will enjoy a--ah--happy wedded life for some weeks, until the young plants begin to bud. Then the male is ignored, his--ah--wooing reflexes degenerate, and he withers away within a night." He made his way between the beds of oblivious lovers. They were too intent on the business of life to sense that he was there. He opened still another door. I heard the rustle of leaves as we stepped inside. It was hostile--alarmed--like the buzz of a rattler's tail among dead leaves. He lit the lamp, and I saw that every flower-face in the place was turned toward us. I saw more: their leaves were hugged up like shielding arms, wrapped around their stalks just below the great blooms. There was something alive under those clinging leaves--something small that moved.