“Better than being shot at, though, isn’t it, lads?” inquired Mr. Dacre, his gray eyes holding a merry twinkle.
“Um—well,” rejoined Tom, with a judicial air, “you know, Uncle, we’ve seen so much more exciting times in this old valley that it seems strange and unnatural to be overrun with Widow Bijur’s boarders. If it isn’t one of the little Soopendykes that’s in trouble, it’s Professor Dalhousie Dingle, with that inquiring child of his. I never saw such a child. Always asking questions. The other day the professor caught a bug and proceeded to stick a pin through it as he always does.
“‘Pa,’ asked Young Dingle, ‘does that hurt the bug?’
“‘I suppose so, my son,’ answered the professor.
“‘Then the bug doesn’t like it?’
“‘I guess not.’
“‘Will the bug die?’
“‘Undoubtedly, my boy.’
“‘Why do you kill bugs, papa?’
“‘For the purposes of science, my boy,’ answered the professor.