OF MICE AND MEN

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXV, Issue 23061, 11 June 1938, Page 14 (Supplement)

OF MICE AND MEN

AT first we tried hard to believe there were no mice. The furtive scratching behind the wainscoating was only falling leaves. The faint smell that made Barbara wrinkle her nose was just the damp from the ivy. And then one night I saw the little beggar. He shot from under the pantry door like a quick-moving shadow and scurried down the cellar steps. The next night Barbara saw him, and Peter had to do his homework iix the kitchen so that he might catch a glimpse of Mickey.

* Yes, of course, we named him Mickey. We began to bo quite fond of him. I fancy Peter used to leave a few crumbs of cheese on the floor for him. But then we found Mickey had been roving all over the pantry shelves. Barbara said this must stop.

"Germs!" "We don't know where ho spends ;the day," she asserted, "or what disease germs he brings in. You must do something." "You aren't going to kill Mickey," protested Peter.

"My' darling," exclaimed Barbara, "we can't harbour vermin. He might bring germs." "What germs?" asked Peter, intelligently. "Measles, for instance. How would you like to have measles?"

"Fine," said Peter. "Then I needn't go to school." "It might be something worse than • measles," argued Barbara. And then she began to think of diseases so much worse than measles that Mickey loomed like a menace over the house. Something had to be done. And when something has to be done, it has to be done by me. But I am not good at killing things. I went out into the garden and tentatively exterminated a few snails. My idea was to work up to mice by easy stages. Instant Action Barbara, of course, demanded instant action. But it was all very well delegating the executioner's work to me and sitting back expecting immediate results. The job needed profound study. I studied the question of a trap and I found there was a snag in the trap idea. You baited a little wire cage with cheese and in the morning you found the mouse was a prisoner. But that was only the beginning of the business. I couldn't drown the little beggar in cold blood. • So'l gave Mickey another respite while' I consulted Uncle John, who

By W. E. RlCHAßDS—(Copyright) Illustrated by MINHINNICK

knew exactly the type of trap 1 needed. It was a sort of painless extinguisher and consisted of a bit of hinged board held in position by a spring. A bit of cheese tempted the mouse to step on the board, -its weight released the spring and—but don't let us go into gruesome details. I set tho trap and all night long waited for the snap of the spring. Letter of Complaint In the morning tho trap was still set, although Mickey appeared to have had a cheese supper. I set it again the following night, and again Mickey got away with it. Then I wrote and complained to Uncle John. He replied that I hadn't set it fine enough, and as it was perfectly useless explaining things by post, he'd come over himself and rid us of our vermin.

"Look what you've done," I complained to Barbara, "being so vindictive about Mickey. He only eats a bit of cheese. Uncle John will eat us out of the house."

Meanwhile, Barbara had been'enlisting help, and Mrs. Harris lent her a kitten which was simply wonderful with balls of wool but wasn't interested in mice. It was one of those aristocratic kittens that insist on occupying the best chair in the parlour, and won't go near the kitchen. The milk boy, %vhen he was consulted, said that if we asked him it was a rat. There was a rat run on our path. It would pay us to keep a dog, in his opinion. So Barbara begged a pup from Mrs. Tomlinson. Tho poor thing whined all night for its old home and it didn't even sniff round for rodents. Then Uncle John came and took entire charge of operations. He set the

trap and guarantee*.! results before morning. Again I listened against my will for the click of the trap which would put an end to Mickey's career. Once I heard a suspicious noise and crept down to investigate. But the trap was still set and the morsel of cheese intact. "Later on, when I was just nodding, I heard a strange sound. "What is that?" exclaimed Barbara. "Burglars?" "It must be the trap," I said. "Nonsense," she said, intensely. "A mouse wouldn't say 'Darn the perishing tf-ap!' You'd better go and see." I found Uncle John hopping about on one foot while he tried to massage the other. Like jnyself, he had got up to see if the trap was still set. He had stepped on it —and how he knew.

Mickey never came back after that night. Perhaps the sight of Uncle John hopping about on one leg in his night attire frightened him. Perhaps he married a Minnie from a distance. We shall never know.

Meanwhile, Uncle John stays on. The pup stays on. It hasn't killed anything yet but my new slippers. And the kitten, growing rapidly to maturity, also stays on. Some day we shall have to face the problem of redundant kittens. And that means — But it doesn't bear thinking about.