We Never Speak Their Names. 93 



little holes in the legs of the head-board for no other 

 reason that I could ever discover than to make nice nests 

 for the pests. Right cozy they seemed to be. 



The morning after you dreamed of mosquitoes, or 

 anyhow the Sunday morning after, you took the bed 

 down and there, on the underside of the side-boards, you 

 found bunches of eggs. They are 'cute little things, 

 with a kind of lid on the top for baby to push open when 

 he first peeps out on the big, wide world. You smashed 

 them too quick to appreciate their beauty. You took this 

 stuff you got from the druggist and brushed it into all 

 the cracks in the bed. You went all over it carefully. 

 You let none escape. 



" Well," says you, " that's a good job done. They say : 

 ' Cleanliness is next to godliness/ and even if I did miss 

 church this morning, I guess it's all right." 



" I'm so glad we went for 'em before they got the start 

 of us," says your wife. " There's only a few of them- 

 now, but if they got ahead they'd have eaten us up alive. 

 Mercy, aint it awful ! ' 



You live in a fool's paradise for a while, but one night 

 when you come home to dinner vour wife savs, What 



m> * 



do you think I found in the bedroom this morning? ' 



You stand aghast. 



" What ! With all the going over I gave them Sun- 

 day ? " 



" Yes, sir. As true as you live." 



" Good land ! Have I got to take that bed down 

 again? ' 



You do take the bed down again, but this time you take 

 a look at the mattress. All along the edges there are- 

 well, they're there. Your wife screws up her nose and, 

 overcoming her feelings, slaughters like an Apache. 



" Oh, Arthur ! " says she a thousand times, " I'm just 



