That evening he carefully brushed his coat, put on a green satin
necktie and a purple embroidered waist-coat, and walked briskly towards
the house of the widow. But, alas! as he drew near to the dwelling a
most horrible stench greeted his nostrils, a sense of great depression
came over him, and upon pausing before the house his body began to
tremble and his eyes rolled wildly in their sockets.

For the wily widow, wishing to escape her admirer, had sprinkled the
door-step and the front walk with insect Exterminator, and not even the
Woggle-Bug's love for the enchanting checked gown could induce him to
linger longer in that vicinity.

Sick and discouraged, he returned home, where his first act was to
smash the luckless hat and replace it with another. But it was some
time before he recovered from the horrors of that near approach to
extermination, and he passed a very wakeful and unhappy night, indeed.

Meantime the widow had traded with a friend of hers (who had once been
a wash-lady for General Funston) the Wagnerian costume for a crazy
quilt and a corset that was nearly as good as new and a pair of silk
stockings that were not mates. It was a good bargain for both of them,
and the wash-lady being colored--that is, she had a deep mahogany
complexion--was delighted with her gorgeous gown and put it on the very
next morning when she went to deliver the wash to the brick-layer's
wife.

Surely it must have been Fate that directed the Woggle-Bug's steps;
for, as he walked disconsolately along, an intuition caused him to
raise his eyes, and he saw just ahead of him his affinity--carrying a
large clothes-basket.

"Stop!" he called our, anxiously; "stop, my fair Grenadine, I implore
you!"

The colored lady cast one glance behind her and imagined that Satan had
at last arrived to claim her. For she had never before seen the
Woggle-Bug, and was horrified by his sudden and unusual appearance.

"Go 'way, Mars' Debbil! Go 'way an' lemme 'lone!" she screeched, and
the next minute she dropped her empty basket and sped up the street
with a swiftness that only fear could have lent her flat-bottomed feet.

Nevertheless, the Woggle-Bug might have overtaken her had he not
stepped into the clothes-basket and fallen headlong, becoming so
tangled up in the thing that he rolled over and over several times
before he could free himself. Then, when he had picked up his hat,
which was utterly ruined, and found his cane, which had flown