"I'm going to the drug store."
"What for?"
"I'll tell you when I come back." She was half-way down the corridor before Edna could ask another question.
And when she returned, she bore a roll of something and several small packages.
"What have you there?" asked Edna, all curiosity.
"This," said Janet unrolling her long package, "is fly-paper—tanglefoot, I believe it is called—warranted to catch the unwary. It is usually placed in infested places for the purpose of trapping intruders. A piece of this upon the window-sill over there, another on the floor in front of the door, wouldn't come amiss."
"But we are not troubled with flies, Janet. They surely are not a pest at this time of year. Gracious! I didn't know you were so particular."
Janet gave her a pitying glance. "Edna Waite, where is your perspicuity? I am not preparing for the common house-fly, the musca domestica, but for that variety known as the soph."
"Oh!" Edna's laugh showed that she understood. "What a scheme!"
"Before we go to bed," said Janet, "we shall complete our arrangements. In this small tin box is mustard. Did it ever occur to you that an adhesive mustard plaster would be a good thing? When one must have a mustard plaster, it might be well to manufacture a kind that cannot come off. I may get out a patent for this. Hand me the mucilage, please, and the scissors. This muslin is for the plasters, so is the mucilage, so is the mustard. You cut them this size; you spread them first with mucilage, and then you sprinkle them with mustard. I had thought of red pepper, but my humanity forbade my using that. There, these placed at judicious distances may be of use in case of an onslaught. Beware, Teddy, that you don't get up in the night and stumble into the pit we have digged for others."