Mr. Bowser Reforms

MR. BOWSER REFORMS

IT LASTS THE ENTIRE EVENING, CAUSING MRS. BOWSER MUCH ALARM.

The Old Fellow Remains In  Gentle Mood and Sis on the Front Steps, Showing an Interest In Unfortunates Who Appeal to Him.

{Copyright 1902 by C. B. Lewis.}

From the front steps of the Bowser mansion Mr. Bowser can be seen as he drops off the car, and Mrs. Bowser was waiting the other evening and wondering what his mood would be. His action caused her surprise. Instead of coming along down the walk in his aggressive way and blasting the eyes of the umbrella mender and the fruit peddlers who accosted him, his gait was slow and gentle, and he bowed to an old clo' man and stopped to ask the hokey pokey ice cream seller how business was. He did not open his gate with a kick, but with all due consideration, and he smiled at Mrs. Bowser and the cat and remarked that it had been a hot day.

"Have you got a sore throat or a headache?" queried Mrs. Bowser as he chucked her under her chin in passing into the house.

"Not at all, dear." he smilingly replied. "It's been rather warm, but I don't know when I've felt better. Have you got one of your usual good dinners this evening?"

It wasn't a good dinner. Mrs. Bowser had been out shopping, and the cook had taken things easy and forgotten two or three orders. Mr. Bowser's smile did not fade however. He not only ate whatever was placed before him, but enjoyed it and had a word of praise now and then. Nine times out of ten on coming home to such a dinner he would have pounded on the table and demanded to know if he were looked upon as a hog to eat such stuff as that, and the cook and the cat and Mrs. Bowser would have had bad chills for a week. On this occasion not a complaint, not a criticism was made. He laughed and joked and kept his good nature, and as the meal was finished he patted Mrs. Bowser on the shoulder and said:

"I thank you, little woman, for always consulting my tastes as you do. Any place you'd like to go this evening?"

"I ~I guess not," she replied, "You are sure you are well?"

"Perfectly sure, Don't I look it? Did you have money enough for your shopping? I meant to have left you $10 this morning, but it slipped my mind. How handsome and intelligent the old cat looks! We will sit on the steps and enjoy the cool breezes while I smoke."

Mr. Bowser had taken a seat on the front steps after dinner on several occasions, and the result each time had been a row with street fakirs and passing loafers. Mrs. Bowser watched him with her heart in her mouth, and the cat's eyes began to shine as she thought of conflicts, but no calamity occurred. A huckleberry man with four boxes left over stopped at the gate and shouted and shrieked and yelled but instead of rushing down the steps and taking him by the throat Mr. Bowser simply shook his head and went on watching the flight of the nighthawks. The banana man not only stopped at the gate and whooped, but he entered it and stood at the foot of the steps and hung on for ten minutes. Had it been the evening before he would not have whooped twice before the clammy hand of death would have been at his throat. He was going away discouraged when Mr. Bowser actually bought half a dozen bananas and divided them among the boys playing about. Mrs. Bowser trembled from head to heel as she witnessed the incident, and her voice sounded strangely in her own ears as she hesitatingly said:

"Mr. Bowser, don't you think we ought to send for the doctor?"

"The doctor? Why, what on earth do we want of the doctor?" he laughingly replied as he slyly pinched her ear.

"The hot weather may-may have affected you, you know."

"La, la! It's been a hot day, but I feel as if I could run a foot race. Hello! Here comes our old friend Cyrus."

Cyrus was the name he had given to an old vagabond who had come whining for alms every evening in the week until thrown over the fence for a fraud. On this occasion Cyrus had struck the street by accident, and as he looked up and saw the man who had toyed with him he started to run.

"Here, man!" shouted Mr. Bowser. "Come back here and get a dime!"

"Do you mean that?" asked the vag as he turned about.

"Of course I do. You'll want beer, if not a bed."

"And you won't pick me up and try to throw me over the treetops?"

"Certainly not. I guess I used you a little rough the other night, but I was only joking, you know."

The man got his 10 cents and backed off with doubt and surprise written on every line of his face, and he had not yet turned the corner when an old clo' man came along. He was an old clo'man who had come along one evening the week before and given Mr. Bowser "sass" and had to flee for his life. Realizing the peril, he was sliding past the gate on this occasion without a word when he was startled to hear a voice calling:

"Say, old clo' come in a minute, I gave you a run the other night, but I had a headache and was excusable. If you'll come tomorrow, my wife will look up two or three suits for you. I like your voice. Please yell out a few times."

The man took to his heels and made off, looking over his shoulder as he ran, and Mrs. Bowser furtively wiped a tear from her eyes and said:

"Mr. Bowser, the doctor is sure to be at home at this hour, and I'd like you to telephone him to come over. It won't do you any harm to have him examine your head."

"The doctor again! Why, what do you imagine can ail my head?"

?You may have met with a fall or something. Don't you remember the case of the man who was wandering around and had forgotten his own name? A hot day sometimes affects the brain without a person realizing it."

"Don't be a goose," replied Mr. Bowser. "I haven't forgotten that my name is Bowser, and I don't think my brains have turned to cod liver oil."

"Did I tell you the coal was out?" she asked, determined to arouse him.

"No, but I expected it would be."

"And the gas bill is a dollar more this month."

"Is it? Well, we can stand that."

"And the cook wants $2 more per month."

"Then give it to her."

"You-you don't feel strange or dizzy or anything of that kind?" queried Mrs. Bowser as they went upstairs.

"Not a bit," he replied, "I don't understand your solicitude about me. Is it so strange that I'm feeling tiptop and could eat two raw lobsters if I had 'em?"

"Then you haven't  had nosebleed or a buzzing in your ears?"

"Nonsense! Say, now but I begin to think that the hot weather has been too much for you. I'll put the ice bag at your feet and a wet rag around your head if you have a feeling of goneness."

Mr. Bowser could not be aroused. He sat and smoked and joked and laughed and even when a drunken man came along and opened the gate and went to bed on the grass he was carefully moved to the sidewalk and a nickel placed in his vest pocket to but a morning nip with. Peace, harmony and good nature prevailed at 8 o'clock and at 9 and 10, and Mr. Bowser was smiling and the cat purring at bedtime.

"What does it mean?" queries Mrs. Bowser of herself for the hundredth time, but she could not answer. All she could do as Mr. Bowser slept was to sit up and gaze into his peaceful countenance and silently pray to Providence that he would not awake at midnight and arm himself with an ax and slaughter the family. 

M. Quad.