Mr. Bowser's Latest

MR. BOWSER was half an hour late in reaching home the other evening, and Mrs. Bowser was wondering whether the police or kidnapers had got hold of him when he turned up with a bland expression of countenance and explained:

"I had a call from Professor Girdlestone just asI was ready to leave the office and was therefore detained for a few minutes."

"How much dld he want to borrow? innocently asked Mrs. Bowser.

"Borrow? Borrow? Who said he wanted to borrow?"

"No one, but I thought he might have heard of you and dropped In to ask a loan."

"What sort of talk is this?" demanded Mr. Bowser as he flushed up and grew belligerent. "Do you mean that Professor Girdlestone might have heard of me as a soft snap?"

"But you do lend money, don't you?"

"Never! Never in this living world! I never loaned a red cent to any human being in all my life, and you know it."  

"I thought you told me of about fifty different parties who had deadbeat you."  

"Never! I never told you of one. No man has ever deadbeat me. The idea that a man like Professor Girdlestone cannot call on me without wanting to work me for a loan! I don't like such innuendoes, and I want no more of them."

"I don't remember to have ever heard of Professor Girdlestone," quietly remarked Mrs. Bowser after a minute or two.

"Oh, you don't! Well, he is on earth just the same, and he happens to rank is one of the greatest entomologists of the age. I may further inform you that he called to see me professionally."

"About entomology?"

"Yes, about entomology. He wanted my assistance in a certain matter, and I promised to aid him all I could. You may not regard it as an honor to be professionally associated with the foremost man of his profession, but I do. I only wish I was so situated that I could drop everything else and take up the study of entomology. It is one of the most interesting things on earth."

Mrs. Bowser realized that Mr. Bowser had been "worked" again, but as to what direction and to what extent she must wait for his explanation. It was not long In coming. After walking up and down for three or four minutes he stopped and took a paper box from his pocket and said:

"I have here a grasshopper. I presume you have seen such an insect?"

"Yes."

"A question has arisen among entomologists in regard to his habits. Some contend that he sleeps during the hours of darkness; others that he requires no sleep at all. I arn to observe him for two or three nights and report. Isn't he a fine specimen of his class? He is awake now, of course, but later on, when the house gets still, he may seek slumber. Let us study him for a moment as he is. Can you fathom nature's object in making his hind legs so long?"  

Mrs. Bowser had no need to answer the question. Those hind legs gave a kick and the hopper rose out of the box and landed half way across the room, but hardly had he struck the floor when the cat leaped off the lounge and snapped him up.

"By thunder!" shouted Mr. Bowser as soon as he could get his breath. "By thunder and Saturn and Mars and the great hornspoon, but l'll have her life for that!"

He didn't get it, though. Wlth the dead hopper in her mouth the cat made three circles of the room and then went out of an open window into the back yard, and the study of entomology was knocked into a cocked hat for the time being.

"But you can easily get another," suggested Mrs. Bowser in a consoling way.

"I shall get another, of course," replied Mr Bowser, "and it is needless to add that a painful death awaits that cat tomorrow morning. She shall die by inches. I presume I shall have to walk a mile or so to find another hopper, but at the same time I may solve the question of whether he sleeps or not. There should be plenty of them in the suburbs."

"But you won't be so foolish as to go hunting grasshoppers at night." she protested.  

"Certainly I will. I have promised to observe the insect and report, and I propose to do it. If I am not back by 10 o'clock, you can go to bed. I may have opportunity to study the hopper in his native heath, and if so it would be much better.

 Mrs. Bowser argued and protested, but without avail. Mr. Bowser felt that the scientific world awaited his decision, and be clapped on his hat and started off. The cat saw him depart and meowed mournfully, but conscience had been aroused too late. Mr. Bowser had walked fully a mile before be reached an expanse of vacant real estate on which he might hope to find grasshoppers resting after their hopful toil of the day. He turned aside and got down on his knees to search about, and he had been at work for ten minutes without making a discovery when a man carne across the unfenced field with a club in his hand and called out:

"Now, then, what in blazes are you doing here?"

'I'm looking for grasshoppers, replied Mr. Bowser as he rose up.

"What? What's that? Say, you old bloke, don't try to guy me! I"m on to you bigger'n a house. You bave buried stolen property here and are trying to find it."

"My dear sir. I"-

"Get out!"

"I want to say"-

But the man rushed at him with uplifted club, and Mr. Bowser had to put his best foot foremost to get away. He covered half a mile of highway before he stopped, and he had sat down to get his breath when two men and a dog carne along. The men might have passed him, but the dog spotted him at once and rushed upon him with such violence that he was knocked over. His yells brought the men to him, and one of them piled on to him at once and shouted to his companion:

"Grab hold of his foot, Jim! We've got the thief who bas been stealing our chickens! Lie still, you old skulk, or I'll knock the top of your head off!"

Mr. Bowser started in to explain, but he had only got as far as to give his name and address when the man gave him a wallop and cried out:

"You old liar, but don't think to deceive us! Where are your partners in this chicken business?"

A second explanation was attempted. This one included Professor Girdlestone and grasshoppers, but the assailants shouted their disbelief and rage and thumped Mr. Bowser on twenty-seven different portions of his anatomy. How he got to his feet, how he fought for his life, how he fled and fell over obstructions, but finally left even the dog behind; are matters that must be suppressed until Mr. Bowser is at rest and some other brain has solved the grasshopper question. He reached home at midnight. He was a human wreck. Mrs. Bowser and the cat were waiting his arrival, and they stood before him as he opened the door.

"About grasshoppers?" queried Mrs. Bowser after a long look at him.

He uttered no word in reply.

"Do they sleep at night, or do they remain awake to run folks all over the country and tear the clothes off their back?"

Mr. Bowser looked from her to the cat and back. scratched his head in a dazed way and then slowly climbed the stairs and disappeared.

M. QUAD