“The thousands of flies hatched out of the manure heap and dumping-ground now feasted on all the filth and decaying mess they could find and soon they were laying eggs wherever a smelly dirty spot could be found, because flies prefer filth to cleanliness.
“Thousands more hatched from these eggs and in three generations of flies, and in three weeks’ time, there were millions of horrid pests flying about camp. Millions buzzed in our ears and slapped their dirty wings in our faces. Millions crept over our food leaving the nasty trails of their hairy feet everywhere—but so fine a dirt that we could not see it with our naked eyes. There were millions to bite baby’s sweet rosy lip, to tickle our noses with their fuzzy legs and tails, to drop into the butter, or swim about in our water and milk, always leaving their filth as a mark of their nuisance!
“Then along came the man with the barrels of oil from the station, and the pools and damp places about camp were soon saturated with kerosene. It was noticed that the flies kept away from such spots.
“‘Suppose we try oil on the hatching places of the flies, Miss Martin?’ asked Uncle Ben.
“‘It will kill the eggs anyway, and may catch some of the flies. But we can keep everything securely covered and screened so a fly will have to starve and then be forced to eat from the poisoned saucer filled with water. Soon we can kill off all the old flies and with the breeding spots disinfected there will be no flies to sicken us,’ replied Miss Martin, and so it was.
“Little Citizens hated the flies almost as much as did Miss Martin and the other grown-ups at Happy Hills, and as soon as the oil-barrels were opened and ready for use, everyone started out to find breeding nests of flies and soak them well with oil.
“And what a lovely summer the rest of that season was at camp, without flies or mosquitoes to annoy the very life out of one!”
“Ha, ha! That’s a better story than the first! Here comes Jones with the farm-wagon bringing in the barrels! Come on, Police and Health Board—to work to rid the camp of pests!”
At Bill’s call to Little Citizens, they jumped up and hurriedly thanking Miss Martin for her stories, ran off to meet the driver with the oil-cans.
“There, that is one way to plant ambition for better conditions,” sighed Miss Martin, feeling she had invested her half-hour to some good purpose.