HIGGINBOTTOM’S BURGLAR.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XV, Issue VI, 10 August 1895, Page 183

HIGGINBOTTOM’S BURGLAR.

It was darker than four kinds of Egyptian-in the-time-of Pharaoh, when Mrs Higgiubottom bad shaken the sleeping Mr Higginbottom until he opened hie eyes and felt the darkness thrust upon him. ‘ Wba—wha—what is it, my dear ?' he asked with an effort that would have been visible if the light had been turned on.

* Oh, Hiram,’ she whispered in a tremour, * there's a burglar in the house.’ * How do you know !’ ‘ I heard him.’ ‘ Probably it’s the cat.’ ‘ I couldn’t hear a cat walk upstairs,’ she snapped. * Did it walk upstairs?’ he inquired sleepily. * No; I said I beard the burglar, upstairs.’ ‘ How do you suppose he got up ?’ ‘ He didn’t pet up,’ she whispered angrily. * But didn’t you say you heard him upstairs ?' he asked gently. ‘ No ; I said I heard him downstairs.’ * When yon were downstairs, my dear ?’ he asked with an awakening interest. * I wasn’t downstairs, Hiram,’she retorted. ‘ I was up stairs and heard the burglar downstairs. Can’t you hear ?' and she gave him a vigorous shake. * Hear what, my dear ’ I don’t hear anything.’ Mrs Higginbottom was provoked almost to the battlepoint. * Well, Hiram Higginbottom,' she said in a firm tone, ‘ if you don’t care whether burglars come in and murder us in our beds, I guess I don’t either.’ And evidently Mr Higginbottom didn’t, for long before she had recovered from her nervous fit, he was snoring at a pitch that would have driven a burglar to a boiler shop for relief.