94 The Book of Bugs. 



sick at heart," says she. : What do you suppose Ma 

 would say if she saw this bed? ' 



I tell you it makes a man feel terribly guilty to realize to 

 what depths of degradation he has brought his innocent 

 young wife, a girl that never in all her life before asso- 

 ciated with a b a B flat,, I mean. 



This time you slather on the skull-and-crossbones stuff. 

 And still you dream of mosquitoes. 



" Ah, it's no good," you say. " The druggist's a fraud. 

 I believe it's nothing in the world but stale mineral water 

 he works off by putting a Poison label on it." 



You buy insect powder and sprinkle it between the 

 sheets. It looks like corn-meal and feels like corn-meal, 

 and you feel mortified to have it about. Besides, it does 

 no good. 



You get desperate. Hand-picking, distasteful as it is, 

 after all is the only sure way, you begin to think. One 

 B flat meets another and stops to pass the time o' day. 



Well, what's the news down your way? ' 



' Oh, nothing startling ! Old Reuben got killed acci- 

 dentally yesterday. Kind o' childish he was, you know, 

 and whilst Sarah Ann was busy about something or 

 another and couldn't look after him, he wandered out and 

 got ketched. Poor old soul ! I kind of feel sorry for 

 him. Smashed up something terrible. Well, we've all 

 got to go some day, I s'pose, and old Reuben was a 

 shock of corn fully ripe. Your folks all well ? ' 



" Well as usual. One of the children had a bad cough- 

 ing spell the other night. Got some of this powder that's 

 been so bad here lately ; he got some of it into his wind- 

 pipes, and it irritated them quite some. His ma was real 

 worried about him for a spell, but he's all over it now." 



" I hear they's considerable sickness up toward the 

 head end of the bed! ' 



