a white shirtwaist rolled above her elbows, and a
wet towel in her right hand. She was skipping lightly about the room,
slapping frantically at the humming insects.

"Mrs. Bascom," she panted, "don't stand there screaming. Get another
towel and--"

Then she turned and saw Brown. For an instant she, too, seemed
astonished. But only for an instant.

"Oh, I'm so glad you came!" she exclaimed. "Here! take this! you must
hit quick and HARD."

"This" was the towel. The assistant took it mechanically. The young lady
did not wait to give further orders. She rushed out of the room and shut
the door. Brown was alone with the wasps, and they were lively company.
When, at last, the battle was over, the last wasp was dead, the nest was
a crumpled gray heap over in the corner, and the assistant's brow was
ornamented with four red and smarting punctures, which promised to
shortly become picturesque and painful lumps. Rubbing these absently
with one hand, and bearing the towel in the other, he opened the door
and stepped out into the adjoining room.

The two women were awaiting him. He found them standing directly in
front of him as he emerged.

"Have you--have you killed them?" begged the younger of the pair.

"Be they all dead?" demanded the other.

Brown nodded solemnly. "I guess so," he said. "They seem to be."

"Oh, I'm so glad!" cried the dark haired girl. "I'm--we--are so much
obliged to you."

"If there's any critters on earth," declared the stout woman, "that I
can't stand, it's wasps and hornets and such. Mice, I don't mind--"

"I do," interrupted her companion with emphasis.

"But when I walked into that room and seen that nest in the corner I was
pretty nigh knocked over--and," she added, "it takes consider'ble to do
that to ME."

The assistant looked at her. "Yes," he said, absently, "I should think
it might. That is, I mean--I--I beg your pardon."

He paused and wiped his forehead with the towel. The young lady burst
into a peal of laughter, in which the stout woman joined. The laugh was
so infectious that even Brown was obliged to smile.

"I apologize," he stammered. "I didn't mean that exactly as it sounded.
I'm not responsible mentally--yet--I guess."

"I don't wonder." It was the stout woman who answered. The girl had
turned away and was looking out the window; her shoulders shook. "I
shouldn't think you would be. Hauled in bodily, as you might say, and
shut up in a room to fight wasps! And by folk