“Man who talk like that never had any infancy,” snagger Hon. Mrs. with peev.
“If folks in this neighborhood could pay less attention to screen door and more to window-lock there would be less burglary,” he otter. “6 homes has been burglarized while everybody was busy snubbing flies.”
He remove one enlarged coltish revolver filled with bullets and lay him doggishly on table.
“O!!!” This from Hon. Mrs.
“While you are executing flies I shall mutilate burglars,” he narrate with militia voice. “And let us see who gets it first.”
“Kindly not to point him this way while doing so,” elocute Hon. Mrs. Madam looking calm but nervus.
By this warfare I broke considerable flies and other dishes.
Another weeks go by and I am very much embossed in my work. Once in occasionally Hon. Fly come walking into home on deceptive wings, yet I pursue. Sometime I make masher motion with broom & impale him flat against wall. Other time I allure him gently with towl so he flop to fly-paper where his feetsteps becomes glue.
Once Hon. Fly alight downward on Baby Alexander nose, shaking his cruel feet, intending to leave 10,000 symptoms. Spank! I capitulate that insex by stroking Hon. Baby on head with apron. Yet he cry without thanks for my bravery.