—M. E. Stokes.
MR. FLY AND MRS. MOSQUITO
One day in the summer, Mr. Fly and Mrs. Mosquito stopped to rest on the window pane of a house in the country.
Mr. Fly, after sitting for some time rubbing his nose with his front feet, looked up and said, "Good morning."
"Mr. Fly," replied Mrs. Mosquito, "I do not believe that we have met before."
"No," said Mr. Fly, "but I am glad to meet you to-day. I have long wanted to do so. May I ask where you live?"
"Ah me, Mr. Fly," replied Mrs. Mosquito, "I have been having a rather hard time lately. You have heard of my family, and know that with a number of brothers and sisters, I was hatched in a small pond near the meadow. Life went well with us for a while. But one afternoon I heard footsteps coming nearer and nearer. I could not understand what terrible beast was coming down to the pond to drink. I shivered with fear and darted as fast as I could to the bottom of the pond. However, I soon had to come to the top again to get a good breath, as I thought I was going to suffocate. Dearie me, why cannot we get air at the bottom of the pond as well as at the top.
"My heart was beating with fear as I still heard the footsteps, and presently I could hear voices. A voice said, 'Where are all the members of this brigade?' What could it mean? What is a brigade? Someone cried out, 'Here we come to give him the oil.' Looking up I saw a number of girls and boys, 'The Mosquito Brigade,' they called themselves. They laughed and talked as if they were a gay crowd. One said, 'Here they are,' and then said, 'This will get them.'