Neither Kathleen nor his sister being present to limit his operations, the entire house was becoming a vast mess.  Living-rooms, library, halls, billiard-room, were obstructed with “scientific” paraphernalia; hundreds of glass fruit jars, filled with earth containing the whitish, globular eggs of the Rose-beetle, encumbered mantel and furniture; glass aquariums half full of earth, sod, and youthful larvae of the same sinful beetle lent pleasing variety to the monotony of Scott’s interior decorative effects.  Microscopes, phials, shallow trays bristling with sprouting seeds, watering-cans, note-books, buckets of tepid water, jars brimming with chemical solutions, blockaded the legitimate and natural runways of chamber-maid, parlour-maid, and housekeeper; a loud scream now and then punctured the scientific silence, recording the Hibernian discovery of some large, green caterpillar travelling casually somewhere in the house.

“Mr. Seagrave, sir,” stammered Lang, the second man, perspiring horror, “your bedroom is full of humming birds and bats, sir, and I can’t stand it no more!”

But it was only a wholesale hatching of huge hawk-moths that came whizzing around Lang when he turned on the electric lights; and which, escaping, swarmed throughout the house, filling it with their loud, feathery humming, and the shrieks of Milesian domestics.

And it was into these lively household conditions that Kathleen and Geraldine unexpectedly arrived from the Berkshires, worn out with their round of fashionable visits, anxious for the quiet and comfort that is supposed to be found only under one’s own roof-tree.  This is what they found: 

In Geraldine’s bath-tub a colony of water-lilies were attempting to take root for the benefit of several species of water-beetles.  The formidable larvae of dragon-flies occupied Kathleen’s bath; turtles peered at them from vantage points under the modern plumbing; an enormous frog regarded Kathleen solemnly from the wet, tiled floor.  “Oh, dear,” she said as Scott greeted her rapturously, “have I got to move all these horrid creatures?”

“For Heaven’s sake don’t touch a thing,” protested Scott, welcoming his sister with a perfunctory kiss; “I’ll find places for them in a minute.”

“How could you, Scott!” exclaimed Geraldine, backing hastily away from a branch of green leaves on which several gigantic horned caterpillars were feeding.  “I don’t feel like ever sleeping in this room again,” she added, exasperated.

“Why, Sis,” he explained mildly, “those are the caterpillars of the magnificent Regal moth!  They’re perfectly harmless, and it’s jolly to watch them tuck away walnut leaves.  You’ll like to have them here in your room when you understand how to weigh them on these bully little scales I’ve just had sent up from Tiffany’s.”

But his sister was too annoyed and too tired to speak.  She stood limply leaning against Kathleen while her brother disposed of his uncanny menagerie, talking away very cheerfully all the while absorbed in his grewsome pets.