ed in raising a single tree that produced, at different seasons, apples, oranges, pineapples, figs, cocoanuts, and peaches, it might have been supposed he would rest from his scientific labors. But Professor Jonkin was not that kind of a man.
He was continually striving to grow something new in the plant world. So it was no surprise to Bradley Adams, when calling on his friend the professor one afternoon, to find that scientist busy in his large conservatory.
"What are you up to now?" asked Adams. "Trying to make a rosebush produce violets, or a honeysuckle vine bring forth pumpkins?"
"Neither," replied Professor Jonkin a little stiffly, for he resented Adams' playful tone. "Not that either of those things would be difficult. But look at that."
He pointed to a small plant with bright, glossy green leaves mottled with red spots. The thing was growing in a large earthen pot.
It bore three flowers, about the size of morning glories, and not unlike that blossom in shape, save, near the top, there was a sort of lid, similar to the flap observed on a jack-in-the-pulpit plant.
"Look down one of those flowers," went on the professor, and Adams, wondering