But the more Flannery thought about having to pay out one hundred dollars for one hundred dead insects the less he liked it and the more angry be became. It could not be denied that one dollar was a reasonable price for a flea that had had a good education. A man could hardly be expected to take a raw country flea, as you might say, and educate it, and give it graces and teach it dancing and all the accomplishments for less than a dollar. But one hundred dollars was a lot of money, too. If it had been a matter of one flea Flannery would not have worried, but to pay out one hundred dollars in a lump for flea-slaughter, hurt his feelings. He did not believe the fleas were worth the price, and he inquired diligently, seeking to learn the market value of educated fleas. There did not seem to be any market value. One thing only he learned, and that was that the government of the United States, in Congress assembled, had recognized that insects have a value, for he found in the list of customs duties this:—"Insects, not crude, 1/4 cent per pound and 10 per cent. ad valorem."
As Flannery leaned over his counter at the office of the Interurban Express Company and spelled this out in the book of customs duties he frowned, but as he looked at it his frown changed to a smile, and from a smile to a grin, and he shut the book, and put it in his pocket. He was ready to meet the professor.
"Good day to yez," he said, cheerfully, when he went into the little parlor on Sunday afternoon, and found the professor sitting there, flanked by his two fellow countrymen. "I have come t' pay ye th' hunderd dollars Missus Muldoon was tellin' me about."
The professor bowed and said nothing. The two gentlemen from Seventh Avenue also bowed, and they, too, said nothing.
"I'm glad ye spoke about it," said Flannery, good-naturedly, "for 'tis always a pleasure to Mike Flannery to pay his honest debts, and I might not have thought of it if ye had not mentioned it. I was thinkin' them was nawthin' but common, ignorant fleas, professor."
"Ah, no!" cried the professor. "The very educate flea! The flea of wisdom! The very teached flea!"
"Hear that, now!" said Flannery, "and did they really come all th' way from France, professor? Or is this a joke ye are playin' on me?"
"The truly French flea!" explained the professor. "From Paris herselfs. The genuine. The import flea."
"And to think ye brought thim all th' way yerself, professor! For ye did, I believe?"
"Certain!" cried all three.