TWO GARBAGE COLLECTORS
I
The next evening, after Robert had finished studying his lessons, he surprised his father by asking, “What becomes of garbage, father? Where does a collector take it?”
Flies are the Collectors
I Mean.
“What kind of a collector, Robert?” asked his father with a twinkle in his eye.
“What kind!” Robert was puzzled. “I didn’t know there were more kinds than one—the men who wear the city uniform and collect our garbage every other day,” he declared.
“There are several different kinds,” said his father. “One kind is especially anxious and active in warm weather if the lid is left off the garbage can.”
“Oh, I know,” said Robert; “you mean flies!”