OCR Text |
Show The Green Bug Strikes By WILLIAM J. MURDOCH McClure N'p'vmper Svr.dicate. WNU Features. "'7'HY?" Ch:r,es Hbson in- ' quired of his eight-year-old nephew. He shot a rather bewildered bewil-dered look at his wife who smiled knowingly and folded her arms across her ample front. "Why, Butch?" Charles repeated. "Why can't you tell your new teacher Miss Melrose, is it? that you're to come straight home instead of helping her fix a recreation room in her basement?"- "Well, gosh, Unk " Randolph "Butch" Speers said evasively, staring star-ing at the floor. Now, thought Helen Hobson. If that green bug of jealousy didn't take a big bite from Charles' peace of mind, then 37 years of marriage to him hadn't taught her a thing. "Tell him, Randolph," she pressed primly. "Tell him what you told me." "I just can't!" the boy exclaimed. ex-claimed. "I I like her! She's so pretty and nice " he paused, embarrassed. em-barrassed. Helen was extremely pleased at the signs of distress on Charles' long, lean face. So she gave that bug plenty of jaw room. If the boy wanted housework, she intended to see that Charles ordered him to help at home. "Imagine, Charles, a teacher using her looks to inveigle a roomful of children to help clean her cellar!" "Ummm," Charles muttered. He had enjoyed almost all of his nephew's neph-ew's affection and admiration ever since the boy came to live with them pending the reunion of his parents, par-ents, one a soldier and the other a willing hospital patient. "Well, gosh, Unk," Butch attempted at-tempted to explain again, "she's just teaching us how to paint chairs and wash woodwork and stuff. And she sings to us while we work, and tells us stories and " "It isn't right," Charles interrupted. inter-rupted. His wounded pride assumed as-sumed a cloak of indignation. "After this, you come straight home, Butch. Hear me?" "O. K." the boy said in a small voice, awed by the unusual severity of his uncle's command. "Aunt Helen can find plenty of work around here," Charles said righteously, "if that's what you want." That was just what Helen wanted. "We'll start right now, Randolph," she said. "Get the water on for supper. sup-per. And tomorrow after school we'll clean our basement." They didn't, though. In vain Mrs. Hobson peered out the living room window for two hours after the clock atop the bookcase struck three. No nephew. Finally he arrived barely a few minutes before his uncle. "He did it again, Charles!" Mrs. Hobson greeted her husband. "I'm sorry, Unk," Butch began tremulously. "Miss Melrose said she was sure you wouldn't mind if I helped just once more " his voice trailed off into miserable silence when he saw the mounting storm in his uncle's face. "By George!" Charles growled, throwing his hat on the hall table. "If you ask me," Helen said tartly, tart-ly, "the boy should be " "It isn't the boy's fault," Charles snapped. "It's that teacher! You can't expect children to resist women wom-en like her. By George!" he said again, snatching up his hat. Both his wife and nephew were startled by the wild light in -his eyes. "By George, I'll tell her a thing or two! Butch, where does she live?" "On on Market street, near Elm," Butch stammered. "If s the old Brennancer place," Helen said. "Charles where are you going?" "To call on Miss Melrose." "Charles, don't do anything you'll regret!" Bang! The door slammed violently, violent-ly, Butch gulped. "G-gosh!" "I should say so," Mrs. Hobson said, blinking. The green bug had taken a bigger bite than she expected. ex-pected. "I should most certainly say so!" The supper hour passed. The clock struck seven. Helen looked out the window for the 20th time. Still no Charles. She did hope he wouldn't make a complete fool of himself. Seven-fifteen. Helen remembered the time 20 years before when Charles had chased the milkman with the fire tongs for stepping in the pansy bed. Her husband's mild gray eyes had held just such a wild light on that occasion too. Seven-thirty. Seven-thirty. Seven forty-five. Then she saw him coming up the walk. Mrs. Hobson's heart swelled with relief and alarm. He was home but from what? She threw open the door. "Charles! Goodness, I hope you didn't well, what did happen, anyway?" Charles kept his eyes averted as he stepped inside. "I'm sorry, Helen. I didn't think" "Sorry? Didn't think? Charles, tell me this instant!" "Well, we talked a little bit," Charles explained hesitantly, "and, Helen, she's so small that the first thing I knew I was helping her paint the basement walls, and tomorrow I'm going to leave the office early and help her and the kids move some heavy furniture downstairs. Butch, Til meet you in front of the school at why, Helen! Here, take this chair! You're positively green!" |