A total of one hundred and seventy-three mice registered on the Better Mousetrap in a week, and then Miss Agatha Merrit polished off the job by procuring enough traps for all of the desk drawers. Since no place remained to place them without the mice being collected and destroyed, the mice-filled drawers ceased to be a favorite prank of the school. The children, all of them sweet innocents, took to other forms of childish torture.
She confessed to Peter Manton, Senior, that had it not been for his excellent product, she would be a nervous wreck. "And," she said, "I never did find out where they came from."
He grinned. "We've never found out where they went," he told her.
"I shudder," said Miss Agatha Merrit, "to think. Do you suppose, Mr. Manton, that your device transmits them to some other corner of the world?"
"We have tried to find out. Mice, unfortunately do not take well to being tagged. But we've tagged a number of them in the hope that we will discover where they go."
"I've noticed in the papers," replied Miss Agatha Merrit, "that there is a veritable plague of rats. The Chicago World had an editorial about you ... did you see it?"
"No," he admitted. "But I'm rather pleased. What did they say?"
"It seems that the Chicago World was plagued with rats until they got about two dozen of your Better Mousetraps. That fixed them. Now they claim that your invention came along at the proper time. The world is about to beat its path to your door, Mr. Manton."
Peter shrugged. "Most inventions are made to fill a definite need," he said. "Discoveries are made because of man's curiosity. An invention is an aggregation of discoveries collected because their principles add up to the proper effect to take care of the necessity. I'm glad that I was able to make this invention of mine. It seems timely."