so much."

The thin Santa Claus had not gone far. He had crossed the street and
stood gazing at Mrs. Gratz's door, and now he crossed again and
knocked. Mrs. Gratz arose and went to the door.

"I believe he comes back once yet," she said to Mrs. Flannery, and
opened the door. He had, indeed, come back.

"Now see here," he said briskly, "ain't your name Mrs. Gratz? Well, I
knowed it was, and I knowed you was a widow lady, and that's why I
said I was a chicken buyer. I didn't want to frighten you. But I ain't
no chicken buyer."

"No?" asked Mrs. Gratz.

"No, I ain't. I just said that so I could get a look at your chicken
yard. I've got to see it. What I am is chicken-house inspector for the
Ninth Ward, and the Mayor sent me up here to inspect your chicken
house, and I've got to do it before I go away, or lose my job. I'll go
right out now, and it'll be all over in a minute--"

"I guess it ain't some use," said Mrs. Gratz. "I guess I don't keep
any more chickens. They go too easy. Yesterday I have plenty, and
to-day I haven't any."

"That's it!" said the thin Santa Claus. "That's just it! That's the
way toober-chlosis bugs act--quick like that. They're a bad
epidemic--toober-chlosis bugs is. You see how they act--yesterday you
have chickens, and last night the toober-chlosis bugs gets at them,