two little guinea-pigs—”
“Eight!” said Flannery. “Papa an' mamma an' the six childer. Eight!”
For answer Mr. Morehouse slammed the door in Flannery's face. Flannery looked at the door reproachfully.
“I take ut the con-sign-y don't want to pay for thim kebbages,” he said. “If I know signs of refusal, the con-sign-y refuses to pay for wan dang kebbage leaf an' be hanged to me!”
Mr. Morgan, the head of the Tariff Department, consulted the president of the Interurban Express Company regarding guinea-pigs, as to whether they were pigs or not pigs. The president was inclined to treat the matter lightly.
“What is the rate on pigs and on pets?” he asked.
“Pigs thirty cents, pets twenty-five,” said Morgan.
“Then of course guinea-pigs are pigs,” said the president.
“Yes,” agreed Morgan, “I look at it that way, too. A thing that can come under two rates is naturally due to be classed as the higher. But are guinea-pigs, pigs? Aren't they rabbits?”
“Come to think of it,” said the president, “I believe they are more like rabbits. Sort of half-way station between pig and rabbit. I think the question is this—are guinea-pigs of the domestic pig family? I'll ask professor Gordon. He is authority on such things. Leave the papers with me.”
The president put the papers on his desk and wrote a letter to Professor Gordon. Unfortunately the Professor was in South America collecting zoological specimens, and the letter was forwarded to him by his wife. As the Professor was in the highest Andes, where no white man had ever penetrated, the letter was many months in reaching him. The president forgot the guinea-pigs, Morgan forgot them, Mr. Morehouse forgot them, but Flannery did not. One-half of his time he gave to the duties of his agency; the other half was devoted to the guinea-pigs. Long before Professor Gordon received the president's letter Morgan received one from Flannery.
“About them dago pigs,” it said, “what shall I do they are great in family life, no race suicide for them, there are
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