Larry doubled up a brown fist and drove it with all his strength against the little globe that spun so steadily between the twin, upright cylinders of crimson and of violet flame. His hand went deep into it. And it swung from its position, hung unsteadily a moment, and then crashed to the laboratory floor. It was crushed like a ball of soft brown mud. It spattered. "Now I guess they won't come back," Agnes said. "A pity to spoil all Dr. Whiting's work, though." Larry was standing motionless, holding up his fist and looking at it oddly. "I smashed a planet! Think of it. I smashed a planet! Just the other--why it was just this evening, at the office, I was wishing for something to happen!" * * * * * End of Project Gutenberg's The Pygmy Planet, by John Stewart Williamson