In a fortnight he had returned, was again in the cellar busier than ever. Presently there came by express a fresh consignment for the laboratory. A heavily wrapped and curiously crated package, not larger than a small tub, which required several men to convey it from the wagon to the underground workshop. And the guilty pair asked no questions. Chemical experiments, as such, had no interest for them. “Bet you it’s a music box,”--said Imogene, who had noted its arrival from the parlor window. “Or a picture machine,”--suggested Lonnie, without taking the trouble to remove his eyes from the face of the “lady-bird.” “And do you know,” he continued listlessly, “that these ordinary humans are doing some very clever work nowadays?” Mr. Vanderhook vouchsafed no explanation. Next day an extra lock was put on his laboratory door. Days rolled on, making up the weeks. The weeks expanded into months. The months rounded up a year, and yet there was no change in the Vanderhook home. No change, merely an accentuation of the old condition. No change, merely a closer absorption of the lady and her Llama. Only an increased activity on the part of the man in the cellar. Mrs. and Mr. V. seldom met, except at meals. From these their guest usually absented himself. Having neither the need nor the desire for food, it wearied him to observe the processes involved. To see his idol feeding grated upon his super-refined senses. This process of reinforcing the fires of physical life is not attractive to astral vision. Even a lady looks rather like an animated hopper than an Intelligent Being. Between meals, however, the Llama and the Lady-Bird lost no time. Nor Bill. CHAPTER IX. DRAWING A CORK. “My ownest, I must to Hindustan.” This announcement came unexpectedly, hurriedly, one evening just before tea. The Mystic was evidently excited. Mrs. Vanderhook was startled. She said,--“Great Scott”--in tones of alarmed surprise. “Be not alarmed, sweetest of mortals. It is nothing very dangerous. Nothing, only a very disagreeable trip. My body has been left unguarded. There are some very large and unpleasant tigers in the vicinity, and should they strike the scent, you know,--I must return and get into my body and have some one kill the beasts. Then I will take some material refreshment, relocate my body more securely and back again to my Goo-Goo Eyes.” “But why should you bother about that old body?” pouted the lady. “Ain’t you all right as you are?” The mystic laughed. It was a soundless convulsion of mirth. “Why, my kitten, don’t you see that even though we love, we are not upon the same--same--plane? That is to say, you’re in the physical body, and I’m out of mine.” “Well, but what difference?”--she began.