The Wicked Flea. 61 



was a sight. It looked like a Hamburg steak, and he 

 whimpered about that nose no little before it got entirely 

 well. 



There are many drawbacks to the keeping of a cat, and 

 about this time I began to notice that when I got into bed 

 things began to bite me. No, it wasn't well, never mind 

 what it wasn't, but I knew it wasn't, because we were the 

 first tenants in the house and we hadn't brought any with 

 us. First I thought it was only Mortal Mind, but Mortal 

 Mind doesn't move around so. I tried to go to sleep, but 

 the things wouldn't let me. I tried to slap the life out 

 of the biters, and when I found they wouldn't hold still 

 to be slapped, then I was surer than ever that they 

 weren't you know what. Well, sir, there was no sleep 

 for me until I got a lot of insect powder and made the 

 sheets nice and mealy. If there is anything I dote upon 

 it is to feel powder or crumbs on the sheets. Mornings, 

 when I'd come down to light the fire and put the oatmeal 

 on, I'd find twelve or fifteen of the dear little things cud- 

 dling on my ankles. I'll teil you one thing: You must 

 wet your finger before you slap it down on them, for they 

 are so hard and smooth they can slip right out from under. 

 And squeezing them between thumb and finger will not 

 put them out of action, either. You must crack 'em 

 between your thumb-nails. It takes a first-class mechanic 

 to do that and not lose a great many. 



I thought at first there might be only a few of them 

 tracked in from outdoors, but I found out that, if I walked 

 barefooted over the matting, I could collect quite a con- 

 gregation of them on my ankles. So they were in the 

 house. About that time I also noticed that Muff would 

 suddenly drop everything to bite himself savagely. Come 

 to look at him, that cat swarmed with fleas. Part his fur 

 and you could see them scuttling around. 



