CHAPTER IV
JOHN HENRY ON MOSQUITOES
When Peaches and I were married we were sentenced to live in one of those 8x9 Harlem people-coops, where they have running gas on every floor and hot and cold landlords and self-folding doors, and janitors with folding arms, and all that sort of thing.
Immense!
When we moved into the half-portion dwelling house last spring I said to the janitor, "Have you any mosquitoes in the summer?"
The janitor was so insulted he didn't feel like taking a drink for ten minutes.
"Mosquitoes!" he shouted; "such birds of prey were never known in these apartments. We have piano beaters and gas meters, but never such criminals as mosquitoes."
With these kind words I was satisfied.
For weeks I bragged about my Harlem flat for which no mosquito could carry a latch-key.
The janitor said so, and his word was law.