I continue to vac. After Hon. Vacuum had sniffed off all wall paper, sideboard, etc., I remember how upholsterish chairs & sofas must be cured of germs also, so I vacuate these velvet upholsters. I was doing very nicely, thank you, when, of suddenly, I point nose of Hon. Vacuum to sofa where that 20$ bill was setting tightly. Yet no financial panics came to me until—O FRIGHTS!! That 20$ bill begin hopping toward Hon. Vacuum’s nose with hypnofied expression peculiar to birds when eaten by charming snakes!
I make snatch for money—alast! I was too late in beginning. Hon. Bill make leap to nose of Hon. Vacuum—gollup! Down long, thin throat of this machinery that wealthy cash was swallowed. I try to choke him so he give it back,—but useless it was. That cash-paper had flipped into his interior digestion before Jack Robinson could say it.
So I unbotton electricity and look down Hon. Vacuum with considerable angry rage. What had he did with my trustful money? O how my indignation jump up! How could this mechanical snake treat me so trickful after I had chaperoned him and fed him dust for several complete days? I shook him with grand cruelty in hopes to make him cough back that wealth of Mrs. Hirem B. Bellus. He remain entirely bulldoggish with that bill clasped somewheres inside.
Then I remember how Mrs. Bellus had told me how trash suctioned away by Hon. Vacuum was blowed high-ward through hole in roof. Maybe I should catch that 20$ yet before he got out! So with immediate quickness I got top-ladder & clomb to roof where I dishcover hole. Yet it was entirely penniless. Now & occasionally slight spurt of dust blow from hole; sometimes one shoe-button would popp out from where Hon. Vacuum had kicked him. Yet that hole remain like a bursted bank, refusing to surrender money.
Afar off in direction of Pennsylvania I could observe slight dusty expression of sky. I feel sure that was Mrs. Bellus’ money travelling West.
Enjoying great discouragements I got down from that roofly seat and wrote following telegram to Mrs. Bellus before walking farewell:
“Togo is resigned. Hon. Vacuum blow your 20$. So sorry to say. The unexpected often happen, so you may get this money back, as I do not see how you ever can. When last seen it was going to Pennsylvania where I shall be there to catch it if he fall down and send back by P. O. delivery.”
When I wrote this telegram I pin him to kitchen door and walk rapidly away with expression of one going West and expecting to arrive there. And while travelling I think of one wise quotation: “Nature abhors a Vacuum.” I am agreeable to Nature in this.
Hoping you are the same,
Yours truly,
Hashimura Togo.