Part 2

Silence was interrupted by noise. What was? I heard many footprints walking into house—and while it was too soon to hide, 2 realestaters, 6 police, Mrs. Sulkz, Mr. Sulkz, child & dog walk inwards.

“How you get in here?” howell Hon. Mrs. with voice.

“I move in,” I narrate calmly. “This are number you told.”

“It are right number but wrong house,” she snuggest. “I told you North Orange Street. This are South Orange Street.”

“Would that make some importance?” I ask out.

“Mentality of a mice!” she aggravate. “Do you not know difference between North and South?”

“There are no difference,” I explan with Abe Lincoln expression. “That were settled by civil war.”

But before I could complete finishing my talk, more civil war elapsed while Hon. Sulkz, police, real-estate, child & dog poke me through mixed furniture while I eloped away like an old-fashioned egg escaping from Dr. Ostler.

Hoping you are the same,

Yours truly, HASHIMURA TOGO.

III

Togo Runs a Furnace

_To Editor Good Housekeeper Magazine who are cheaper than coal, because he warms many homes, price 15c._

Dear Sir:—Most recent job of employment I was impeached from was home of Mrs. and Mr. J. W. Humburg, Pondside, N.J. Perhapsly you can tell me why, because I am disabled to understand the customary habits of some households.

Just a few days of yore I apply there in extreme coldness of snow. This Hon. Mrs. Humburg, dark hairs lady of muscular expression, approach to kitchen and observe me.

“You are a cook?” she ask it.

“Yes are!” I say it.

“Then you will be expected to feed the furnace while doing so,” she negotiate harshly.

“Must I be an engineer because I am a hired girl?” I requesh.

“I guess supposedly,” renig Hon. Mrs., while leading me to inferno of down-cellar where I was introduced to Hon. Furnace. This iron animal, Mr. Editor, lives like a very homely hermit in middle of low darkness. He set there in nest of ashes, with tin snakes growing from his forehead like zinc octopus. His teeth was full of blazes and he would of made a nice idol for Japanese to worship when feeling old-fashioned. I could not love his face which seem too hungry when open and too satisfied when closed.

“We never permit him to go out in winter,” narrate Hon. Mrs.

“I shall watch see he do not escape,” I promus with Wm. Jerome eyebrows.

Annexed to Hon. Furnace were a slight clock with one finger going around like taxicabs. “This are the steam gag,” explan Hon. Mrs. “He are now pointing 23.”

“Do that tell age of Hon. Furnace?” I require educationally.

“No, not!” she snagger. “That indikate the number lbs. steam in boiler. You must be careful about that. If Hon. Steam Gag jump above 25 lbs. that will mean Hon. Furnace have got too much steam on his brain and might blow up with Harry Thaw noise. When Hon. Steam Gag get too ambitious, Oh, cool Hon. Furnace with immediate quickness before explode up!”

“A Samurai janitor fears no steam!” I reject proudishly, while folding my elbows over coal shovel.

Mr. Editor, I did not stoke long in this situation of work, but I make very pleasant impression of it. Although I enjoy thumb-scorch, ash-eye, and janitorial pain of spine, yet I commence to love Hon. Furnace for his characteristic. I begin to dishcover he are like Hon. Beethoven, famus piano-player—he got red-hot soul inside his homely face. It were pleasant to watch him eat $8 worth very hard coal and purr from sweet digestion. It are nice to be healthy. He seem to contain no meanness. When I close his mouth with shovel he forgive that impoliteness. He love to have me comb his ashes with poker.

Pretty soonly, while doing this, I begin to feel like engineers running _Lusitania_. I decorate my complexion with smudges and imagine how 1000 Newport passengers was on upstairs deck congratulating my intelligence. While thinking thusly I poke more coal into inflamed mouth of Hon. Furnace. Yet I keep my scientific eyesight on Hon. Steam Gag for see he did not over-jump 25 lbs., thusly causing mania to explode.

This engineerish work seem so heroic that I grew quite peev about merely house-maidenly work. Yet I was hired to do. So I perform them with disgust.

While I was upstairs doing bed-make exercise, Hon. Mrs. incroach with sharpness of face peculiar to swords.

“I am quite aquainted with Hon. Furnace,” I say for happy smiling.

“I notice it,” she degrade,“by the thumb-tracks you leave on bed-spread.”

“If you would burn white coal, maybe I would match your delicate home more nicely,” I snuggest.

She reply by not doing so.

Hon. Furnace seem more depressed that afternoon p. m., so I sit beside him to shovel nourishment. Hon. Steam Gag say 14, which are very sick temperature. Hon. Furnace look dull-eye like fish, and more I coaled him the less he het. I feed him slight soap-box for light foods, and by 4:11 he smile more pleasanter and commence eating coal. At 5:12 Hon. Steam Gag awoke up to taxicab work.

Thusly I left him and go to kitchen for make food for rest of family. But my soul would not get into that kitchen work, Mr. Editor. It were similar to a janitor attempting to be a chef. It might be done, but can it? I almost nearly put shovelful of coal in apple-pie, I was thinking so hard about what would tempt appetite of furnaces.

Howeverly, I finished fashionable foods for that Humburg family to eat, to include considerable potatus and canned corn. Hon. Mrs. who went to Trenton for slight shop-buy, arrive back at 6:34 attached to her Husband. I observe that gentleman through door-hinge and notice his dishagreeable Wall Street appearance. He look entirely bear-market. First thing he do when approaching inside was to sneeze while walking to Hon. Radiator and touching him with diamond fingers.

“Huh!” This from him. “Have you employed Hon. Doc Cook for janitor?”

“Why so?” This from Hon. Mrs.

“Because he makes North Poles wherever he goes,” snig Hon. Mr. I could not assimilate this compliment which might be otherwise.

I brought in dinner-food on tray and set him to table. When Hon. Mr. took chair he looked to me with serious eyesight.

“That are nice-looking niggero boy you employ,” he snuggest to Hon. Mrs.

“He are not niggero,” she devolve. “He got that complexion from being attentive to furnace.”

“Oh,” he snagger. “If he would put more coal in Hon. Furnace and less on that face, perhapsly I should feel less iced.”

I could not chide that denaturized man, yet I thought so.

After dinner-eat he approach to kitchen and say: “Togo,” he say with doggish voice, “furnaces are made for heats. Otherwisely we would use ice-boxes, which is just as handsome. Any cook who cannot feed my furnace should be banished for cruelty.”

“I understand this knowledge,” I report chivalrously.

“Did you permit Hon. Furnace to go out?”

“Ah, no, not I did!” This I say. “I watch him entire day and give you my truthful insurance he did not leave that cellar.”

“Tonight you must compel him to heat, no matter how desperado you act,” he snarrel, departing off with bang-slam.

At hearing such adjectives, angry rages filled my hair with scorn. What is so ungrateful as ingratitude? Nothing!! Had I not sat by sick-bed of Hon. Furnace, feeding him what stumach would hold? Yes! And yet this crude gentleman reproach my firemanship with coolness.

Nextly I become determined. I would compel that heater to a hotter thermometer if I cooked my soul doing so, I declare!

So I ascend down to cellar. Hon. Furnace was still there doing the same. I shook him with considerable peev, but he merely answered by winking his dull coals. Hon. Steam Gag say 18 and act like he was intending to faint away. I have read in novel-book about bravery of engineer who save his ship by burning it up for steam. I shall do similar!

I burst up kitchen table, which should burn nice because covered with happy grease. Hon. Furnace love such foods and eat him with loudly roar. Hon. Steam Gag jump forwards to 19. Afterwards I poke in oilcloth which blaze resembling July 4 and smell more so. At this sight Hon. Steam Gag leap onward to 21 and that cave where Furnace lived become quite sun-stroke. And when I fetch forth excelsior-shave quenched with kerosene, I never observed Hon. Furnace chew more satisfaction. Coal I added in hodd—when—Oh, look!!

Hon. Steam Gag had arrived at 27 and was pointing his reckless finger further up! This could not happen!!! I remember how Hon. Mrs. had cautiously warned me that Hon. Furnace would get steamed brain and explode from dementia if Hon. Gag surpass 25 lbs. Yet there he was approaching 30 with mean taxi-click!

What should heroes do with such circumstances? I thought lightning. Too much fire make too much steam, too much steam make blow-off. Therefore fire must quit at oncely. With rapid coal-scuttle I make outrush to kitchen sink where I fill him with water and make back-rush to cellar. I open mouth of Hon. Furnace, and embracing my elbows, throw water with awful strength. What did that cruel furnace reply then?

WHOOSH!!!***

Out-jump of steam, cooked coal & atmosphere suppress me backwards with such rapidity that I hurricaned through 2 doors and 1 window, arriving in outside snow-bank on the seat of my stumach.

“What deed have you done now?” scram Hon. Mrs. from topside porch.

“Your furnace just discharged me,” I flop back disgustly.

“I congratulate him,” she narrate. Then she make earnest close-down to window, so there I sat surrounded by frost.

Hoping you are the same,

Yours truly, HASHIMURA TOGO.

IV

Togo and the “ Weak-Enders”

_To Editor Good Housekeeper Magazine, who know how to make home beautiful by staying there_,

Dear Mr:—There are a vacant place to be obtained for bright Japanese Gen. Houseworker at home of Mrs. & Mr. Jeremia Spiggott, Flag Wave, Pa. That vacancy are where I am not now working. It surprise me. This are how it happen.

During breakfast-table last Fryday Hon. Mr, Spiggott look uply from Pittsbug news-reading and say with voice, “Mrs. and Mr. Wm. H. Axweilder shall be here tomorrow p.m. for slight weak-end visitation.”

“They are both entirely unwelcome, I am sure,” she snob.

“If we merely asked people we liked there would be no hospitality,” he rake off. “We must enjoy Hon. Axweilder’s company because of his great wealth. If we are sufficiently delightful to him maybe he will permit me to cheat him in business. You will love his conversational talk. For so dull a man he have a most penetrating mind.”

“He _must_ have to bore me so deep,” she snagger. “I like his wife less than equally.”

So that day she enslave me for hard housework, so all shall be delightful for this disgusting visit. All day I do considerable proud bed-make with swollen quilts of mushy silk appearance. At lastly tomorrow p.m. arrive when Hon. Mrs. approach, up to me and say with commutor language:

“Togo,” she say it, “at toot of 2.22 train Mrs. & Mr. Axweilder will arrive in custody of Hon. Husband. Kindly to hitch down Sarah, the horse, to fashionable bug-wagon and elope to depot with coachman expression.”

I go forthly to horse-garage where Hon. Sarah stood eating his oat. So I hitched it and made immediate race-course to depot where I stood proudly clutching harness with grand thumbs resembling Newport.

Toot-toot of 2.22! Three human personalities eloped forthly from Pullmanly train. One were Hon. Spiggott appearing full of courteous peev. Another was one enlarged gentleman of Republican expression. Another were a very stretched lady whose nose contained great snobbery amidst eyeglass.

“It are such pleasant change from our usual wealth to be trotting behind mild horseback instead of whizzing as usual in expensive ottomobiles,” she snuggest sweetishly as we jogg off.

“We prefer this style of locomobile because of its health,” growell Hon. Spiggott. Yet he attemp to appear hospital.

At hallway of home Hon. Mrs. Spiggott were enwaiting with face containing smiles. By the cordial of her behavior you would think she was glad. “I am so hilarious to see you including your delicious husband!” she holla with soprano. Kissing enjoyed.

“We shall have such unaccustomed pleasure in these simple surroundings!” notate Mrs. Axweilder.

Mrs. Spiggott replied by looking iced with her eyes.

“I am glad you have came on such an amiable day for a golluf game!” deplore Hon. Spiggott putting on sporty cap.

“Yes. It are going to rain,” say Hon. Axweilder with slump voice.

“That will make it seem more Scottish,” say Boss man cheerly.

“On what vacant lot have you room to play golluf in such a neighborhood?” require Hon. Ax while they depart off looking dangerous with clubs.

“This evening,” Mrs. Spiggott explain to Mrs. Axweilder, “we are determined to give you dinner-party to include Mrs. & Mr. Washington Whack, very charmed people next door.”

“Are they related to the Whacks of Tuxedo?” Mrs. Ax cut up.

“I are not acquainted with their geography,” glub Mrs. Boss.

“Unless from Tuxedo they cannot live,” describe other lady.

Mrs. Spiggott reply by thinking unpleasantly.

“Would you not enjoy slight driveway around neighborhood for observe country and fresh air?” she require at lastly, as soonly as her voice ceased freezing.

“I am always fascinated to see how the other ½ lives,” Mrs. Axweilder shoot up.

So I again hitch down Sarah, the horse, and forthly we trotted. While we elope past sweet gardens & landscapes that visitor continue gawsping: “Quaint! How comfort people can be for small salaries!”

“Many persons surrounding here are top-high aristocrats!” snarrel Mrs. Spiggott.

“Undoubtlessly!” snuggest Mrs. Ax. “My Uncle Henry lives in country residence containing 800 rooms.”

“What are name of it—Sing Sing?” collapse Mrs. Madam with sweetly smiling.

Mrs. Axweilder listen without hearing.

At lastly we arrive up to Cemetery View. Country Club for slight tea-drunk. I await outside nursing Sarah, the horse, for considerable hour. At lastly both Mrs. Ladies approach outward with accompaniment of their husbands who smell quite highball. Both feminines look quite iced as we go homeward.

At lastly was dinner-time. I ceased off being coachman and became waitress, as usual.

“We only attemp small, cozy dinners in our excluded set,” explan Hon. Mrs. while 6 persons took set-down to dinner.

“My dining-room contains 80 people, mostly nobility,” report Mrs. Axweilder while eating soup.

Hon. Mr. Washington Whack, who set next by her, twist off his shirt-button from excitements. While doing so he explain how his family were similarly to Whacks of Tuxedo. Hon. Axweilder refuse to speak while feeding his indigestion. Hon. Spiggott steam up his merriment and tell college-bred tales about humor.

When all foods was finished all retreated to parlor room where bridge-gamble was enjoyed till late night. At 1.62 oclock Mrs. Axweilder call Mrs. Whack an Ace & Mrs. Whack reply peevly, “Renig!” full of scorns. All make go-home agreeing how enjoyment that evening was.

At 2.11 clocktime, while those Axweilders was glad go bed, Mrs. & Mr. Spiggott set alonesome in parlor room where I could hear.

“Why do you bring those buffalo kittens to rage around this neighborhood?” she ask it. “One day more and I shall poison their foods.”

“They must get their fresh air somewheres,” he reprieve.

“Why should they spoil ours?” she snagger.

“I admit it,” he jar. “What could be more disgusting than Hon. Axweilder?”

“Hon. Mrs. Axweilder,” say her. So they go bed thinking so.

Next morning were churchtime.

“We have engaged orchestra seats for you at church,” repose Mrs. Madam. “It will be great treat.”

“What denomino church is it?” require Hon. Axweilder.

“Methodist,” say her.

“We never go Methodist,” say him. “We are Osteopaths.”

“Then you will be pleased to excuse us,” backfire Hon. Mrs. with smiling glum. “We dare not neglect religion for those we love.”

So Hon. Spiggotts depart for church, walking together like chorus girls. Hon. Axweilders remain in parlor room reading pictures in comical supplement.

“Why you brought me to this disgustly place?” require she from him.

“I agree,” he snatch back. “We should have more fun going to hospital.”

When I hear this repartee I step forthly into room with helpmeet expression.

“Sweethearted Weak-Enders,” I say so, “obtain your hats and baggages with immediate quickness and I will snuggle you away from here before they can catch you.”

“What you mean by what you say?” they require.

“I observe how you suffer. Therefore I help escape.” This I say.

“I should muchly admire to go,” he croach, “yet cannot because Hon. Spiggotts would feel sad to lose us.”

“Your sudden depart off would grieve them even less,” I tell. “Last night they included you among buffaloes and mentioned poison while speaking of you.

“Oh!!” Both stand up on their stamping feet. They rosh upstairs for bag. They rosh downstairs with it. I go to animal garage for hitch down Sarah.

Pretty soonly church-bell chime forth while Mrs. & Mr. Spiggott return backwards from there. They observe their weak-end gasts on porch.

“What—must you carry yourselves away before Monday?” require Mrs. Spiggott for sorrow voice.

“Your poor but neat home is no place for zoological buffalos!” stroggle Hon. Mr. Ax.

“And poisonous food might be expensive from high price of drugs for economical persons,” grubble Hon. Mrs. Ax.

“Who told you this & that?” narrate those Spiggotts shockly.

“Togo did!” say others.

“So thanks!” she say so for sweetness resembling flirtatious snakes. “Please continue your usefulness, Togo, by removing my happy company in time to catch the time-table.”

Soonly I arrive up to porch-step accompanied by Sarah, the horse. When those Weak-Enders and other baggage were loaded in, Hon. Mrs. Spiggott spoke furthermore.

“Togo,” she pronounce, “when 1.11 train arrives up, hitch Sarah to the depot and continue traveling by rail with my dearie friends who can doubtlessly afford to hire you among their expensive servants.”

So I spanked up Sarah with expression of one seeking employment where he is not needed.

Hoping you are the same,

Yours truly, HASHIMURA TOGO.

V

Togo Swats the Fly

_To Editor Good Housekeeper Magazine, noble editor who make fly-chasing delightful among national sports._

Dear Sir:—Last Wedsday midnight p.m. were historical date when I bade sad kiss-a-by to employment from home of Mrs. K. W. Pumphrey, North Bourbon, Ky. This were too bad accident from my helplessness.

When I enter this sweethearted home Hon. Mrs. Pumphrey say me, “Togo,” she relate, “I am most particular about flies.”

“I am sure you must raise some delicious varieties of these live stock,” I collapse for chivalry.

“O not to do!” she renig hashly. “I would sooner have a tiger in my home than a fly.”

“A tiger might be more noisy,” I negotiate.

“A tiger merely contains six claws in his feet,” she snagger, “while a fly got 10,000 scratchers each containing 10,000,000 germs. From this you can estimate.”

I attemp to do so until fatigued.

“From national science report arranged by boss doctor of John Hopsmith University I learn considerable valuable diseases which come from flies. Asthma, miasma, phantasma, connection of the menbranes, loss of memory, worms (hook, book & ring) hydrophobia, anglophobia, colic, bibliography, and jaw-lock. All these are brought to homes from footprints of this poisonous bird.”

“They should not be permitted to fly,” I abhor.

“It is not when they fly they are harmful. They do the damage when they land,” she tell.

“In this they are similar to aeroplanes,” I snuggest.

“Perhapsly!” she combust. “At any rates, I give you instructions. Whenever you see a fly, track him to his hole and shoe him at once.”

“Only horse-flies can be shoed,” I determinate.

She could not assimilate this reply I said.

“Whenever I see flies,” she say furthermore, “I shodder, not so much for self & husband as for dearie Baby Alexander, who are endanger.”

“Expect me to fear nothing including flies,” I narrate cruelly like a Samurai.

Mr. Editor, when housewifely lady got fears for something she got it even when it are not there. I once did kitchen labor for one lady who imagine tramps was somewhere all time. When grocer arrive with order expression, she holla, “Tramp!” till he say otherwise. She yall, “Tramp!” when welcoming book-agent peddleman come. One day gentleman in very tired-looking clothes arrive up to door. She screech, “Tramp!” and quench him with hose-water. “I am preacher,” he yellup. “I thought you was tramp,” she oblige. “At my salary I should be,” he negotiate while walking awayward.

Thusly it were with Hon. Mrs. Pumphrey about flies. Each morning she examine fly-paper lovingly like mariners studying charts.

“How much flies we caught this a.m., Togo?” she ask it.

“Six,” I say it. “Five house and one butter.”

“Unloosen Hon. Butterfly,” she dement. “We should not punish nature’s lovely insex becouse of sins of others.”

So I grabb that lovely insex and attemp remove him from his sticky toes. But when I done so he turn meanly and bit me on thumb with hot end of his poison tail.

“That butterfly are a wasp!” I lecture amid Japanese word curse.

“Wasps does little harm,” she say sweetishly.

“What little they does can be noticed immediately,” I snarrel.

And so onwards.

After 2½ days of continuous flymanship I become extremely skilful in murder. My ears became very bright by listening for flies. At distance of 66 ft. I could hear Hon. Fly walking up windows. Then was time for me. My eyebrows containing gunpowder expression peculiar to Bwana Tumbo, I hide behind curtain-shade with cruel hand containing swat-stick. Hon. Fly approach, little imagining. Now and occasionally he stop and rubb his mittens together so they will be more ready to catch more diseases. Still I await. Of suddenly I arise uply, silently like eels drinking milk. And then. Swatts!!!

By this warfare I broke considerable flies and other dishes.

Hon. Pumphrey, husband, come home saying scorn about flies.

“What are so fatalistic about this bug all of a suddenly?” he ask it. “In childhood of youth I was affectionately acquainted with flies. While enjoying cradle-ride of infancy, flies was allowed to buzz round my head like angel whispers. And yet I live.”

“Man who talk like that never had any infancy,” snagger Hon. Mrs. with peev.

“If folks in this neighborhood could pay less attention to screen door and more to window-lock there would be less burglary,” he otter. “6 homes has been burglarized while everybody was busy snubbing flies.”

He remove one enlarged coltish revolver filled with bullets and lay him doggishly on table.

“O!!!” This from Hon. Mrs.

“While you are executing flies I shall mutilate burglars,” he narrate with militia voice. “And let us see who gets it first.” “Kindly not to point him this way while doing so,” elocute Hon. Mrs. Madam looking calm but nervus.

Another weeks go by and I am very much embossed in my work. Once in occasionally Hon. Fly come walking into home on deceptive wings, yet I pursue. Sometime I make masher motion with broom & impale him flat against wall. Other time I allure him gently with towl so he flop to fly-paper where his feetsteps becomes glue.

Once Hon. Fly alight downward on Baby Alexander nose, shaking his cruel feet, intending to leave 10,000 symptoms. Spank! I capitulate that insex by stroking Hon. Baby on head with apron. Yet he cry without thanks for my bravery.

At lastly that house were so scarce of flies you could not find him without advertising. All day, while not sweeping other rugs, I search back & forthly with cruel fly-spank. Yet never a buzz was there. Such was accomplishment of my great science.