afternoon he appeared at Mrs. Muldoon's, supported by Monsieur Jules,
the well-known Seventh Avenue _restaurateur_, and Monsieur Renaud, who
occupies an important post as _garcon_ in Monsieur Jules' establishment.
"For the keek," said the professor, "I care not. I have been keek
before. The keek by one gentleman, him I resent, him I revenge; the keek
by the base, him I scorn! I let the keek go, Madame Muldoon. Of the keek
I say not at all, but the flea! Ah, the poor flea! Excuse the weep,
Madame Muldoon!"
The professor wept into his handkerchief, and the two men looked
seriously solemn, and patted the professor on the back.
"Ah, my Alphonse, the flea! The poor leetle flea!" they cried.
"For the flea I have the revenge!" cried the professor, fiercely. "How
you say it? I will be to have the revenge. I would to be the revenge
having. The revenge to having will I be. Him will I have, that revenge
business! For why I bring the educate flea to those States United? Is it
that they should be deathed? Is it that a Flannery should make them dead
with a--with such a thing like a pop-gun? Is it for these things I
educate, I teach, I culture, I love, I cherish those flea? Is it for
these things I give up wife, and patrie, and immigrate myself out of
dear France? No, my Jules! No, my Jacques! No, my madame! Ah, I am one
heart-busted!"
"Ah, now, professor," said Mrs. Muldoon, soothingly, "don't bawl
annymore. There is sure no use bawlin' over spilt milk. If they be dead,
they be dead. I wouldn't cry over a million dead fleas."
"The American flea--no!" said the professor, haughtily. "The Irish
flea--no! The flea _au naturel_--no! But the educate flea of _la belle
France_? The flea I have love, and teach, and make like a sister, a
sweetheart to me? The flea that have act up in front of the crowned
heads of Spain; that have travel on the ocean; that travel on the land?
Ah, Madame Muldoon, it is no common bunch of flea! Of my busted feelings
what will I say? Nothings! Of my banged-up heart, what will I say?
Nothings! But for those dead flea, those poor dead flea, so innocents,
so harmless, so much money worth--for those must Monsieur Flannery
compensate."
As the professor's meaning dawned on Mrs. Muldoon a look of amazement
spread over her face.
"And would be ye makin' poor Mike Flannery pay good money for thim
rascal fleas he kilt, and him with his ankles so bit up they look like
the small-pox, to say nothin' of other folks which is th' same?" she
cried. "'Tis ashamed ye should be, Mister Professor, bringin' fleas into
America and lettin' them run loose! Ye should muzzle thim, Mister
Professor, if ye would turn thim out to pasture in the boardin'-house of
a poor widdy woman, and no end of trouble, and worry, and every one
sayin', 'Why did ye let th' Dago come for, annyhow?'"
The professor and his friends sat silent under this attack, and when it
was finished they arose.
"Be so kind," said the professor, politely, "to tell the Flannery the
ultimatum of Monsieur the Professor Jocolino. One hundred educate French
flea have I bring to the States United. Of the progeny I do not say. One
milliard, two milliard, how many is those progeny I do not know, but of
him I speak not. Let him go. I make the Flannery a present of those
progeny. But for those one hundred fine educate French flea must he pay.
One dollar per each educate flea must he pay, that Flannery! It is the
ultimatum! I come Sunday at past-half one on the clock. That Flannery
will the money ready have, or the law will be on him. It is sufficient!"
The three compatriots bowed low, and went away. For fully five minutes
Mrs. Muldoon sat in a sort of stupor, and then she arose and went about
her work. After all it was Flannery's business, and none of hers, but
she wished the men had gone to Flannery, instead of delegating her to
tell him.
"Thief of th' worrld!" exclaimed Flannery, when she told him the demand
the professor had made. "Sure, I have put me foot in it this time,
Missus Muldoon, for kill thim I did, and pay for thim I must, I dare
say, but 't will be no fun t' do it! One hunderd dollars for fleas, mam!
Did ever an Irishman pay the like before? One week ago Mike Flannery
would not have give one dollar for all the fleas in th' worrld. But
'Have to' is a horse a man must ride, whether he wants to or no."
But the more Flannery thought about having to pay out one hundred
dollars for one hundred dead insects the less he liked it and the more
angry be became. It could not be denied that one dollar was a
reasonable price for a flea that had had a good education. A man could
hardly be expected to take a raw country flea, as you might say, and
educate it, and give it graces and teach it dancing and all the
accomplishments for less than a dollar. But one hundred dollars was a
lot of money, too. If it had been a matter of one flea Flannery would
not have worried, but to pay out one hundred dollars in a lump for
flea-slaughter, hurt his feelings. He did not believe the fleas were
worth the price, and he inquired diligently, seeking to learn the market
value of educated fleas. There did not seem to be any market value. One
thing only he learned, and that was that the government of the United
States, in Congress assembled, had recognized that insects have a value,
for he found in the list of customs duties this:--"Insects, not crude,
1/4 cent per pound and 10 per cent. ad valorem."
As Flannery leaned over his counter at the office of the Interurban
Express Company and spelled this out in the book of customs duties he
frowned, but as he looked at it his frown changed to a smile, and from a
smile to a grin, and he shut the book, and put it in his pocket. He was
ready to meet the professor.
"Good day to yez," he said, cheerfully, when he went into the little
parlor on Sunday afternoon, and found the professor sitting there,
flanked by his two fellow countrymen. "I have come t' pay ye th' hunderd
dollars Missus Muldoon was tellin' me about."
The professor bowed and said nothing. The two gentlemen from Seventh
Avenue also bowed, and they, too, said nothing.
"I'm glad ye spoke about it," said Flannery, good-naturedly, "for 'tis
always a pleasure to Mike Flannery to pay his honest debts, and I might
not have thought of it if ye had not mentioned it. I was thinkin' them
was nawthin' but common, ignorant fleas, professor."
"Ah, no!" cried the professor. "The very educate flea! The flea of
wisdom! The very teached flea!"
"Hear that, now!" said Flannery, "and did they really come all th' way
from France, professor? Or is this a joke ye are playin' on me?"
"The truly French flea!" explained the professor. "From Paris herselfs.
The genuine. The import flea."
"And to think ye brought thim all th' way yerself, professor! For ye
did, I believe?"
"Certain!" cried all three.
"An' t' think of a flea bein' worth a dollar!" said Flannery. "Thim
can't be crude fleas at sich a price, professor."
"No! Certain, no!" cried the three men again.
"Not crude," said Flannery, "and imported by th' professor! 'T is odd I
should have seen a refirince t' them very things this very day,
professor. 'T is in this book here." He took the list of customs duties
from his pocket and leaned his elbows on his knees, and ran his hand
down the pages.
"'Cattle, if less than one year old, per head, two dollars. All other,
if valued less than $14 per head, $3.75; if valued more than $14 per
head, twinty-sivin and one half per cent.,'" read Flannery. "Sure, fleas
does not count as cattle, professor. Nor does they come in as swine, th'
duty on which is one dollar an' fifty cints per head. I know th' pig,
an' I am acquainted with th' flea, an' there is a difference between
thim that annyone would recognize. Nor do they be 'Horses an' Mules' nor
yet 'Sheep,' Some might count them in as 'All other live animals not
otherwise specified, twinty per cent.,' but 't was not there I saw
refirince t' thim. 'Fish,'" he read, "th' flea is no more fish than I
am--" He turned the pages, and continued down through that wonderful
list that embraces everything known to man. The three Frenchmen sat on
the edges of their chairs, watching him eagerly.
"Ho, ho!" Flannery sang out at length. "Here it is! 'Insects, not
crude, one quarter cent per pound and tin per cint. ad valorum.' What is
ad valorum, I dunno, but 't is a wonderful thing th' tariff is. Who
would be thinkin' tin years ago that Professor Jocolino would be comin'
t' Ameriky with one hundred fleas, not crude, in his dress-suit
portmanteau? But th' Congress was th' boy t' think of everything. 'No
free fleas!' says they. 'Look at th' poor American flea, crude an'
uneducated, an' see th' struggle it has, competin' with th' flea of
Europe, Asia, an' Africa. Down with th' furrin flea,' says Congress,
'protect th' poor American insect. One quarter cent per pound an' tin
per cint. ad valorum for th' flea of Europe!"
Mike Flannery brought his hand down on the book he held, and the three
men, who had been watching him with a fascinated stare, jumped
nervously.
"That's what Congress says," said Flannery, glaring at the professor,
"but up jumps th' Sinator from Californy. 'Stop!' he says, 'wait! 'T is
all right enough for th' East t' rule out th' flea, but th' Californian
loves th' flea like a brother. We want free fleas.' Then up jumps th'
Sinator from New York. 'I don't object t' th' plain or crude flea comin'
in free,' says he, 'for there be need of thim, as me frind from th' West
says. What amusement would th' dogs of th' nation have but for th'
flea?' says he. 'But I am thinkin' of th' sivinty-three theayters on an'
off Broadway,' says he. 'Shall th' amusemint industry of th' metropolis
suffer from th' incoming of th' millions of educated an' trained fleas
of Europe? Shall Shakespere an' Belasco an' Shaw be put out of business
by th' pauper flea theayters of Europe? No!' says he. 'I move t' amend
th' tariff of th' United States t' read that th' duty on insects, not
crude, be one fourth of a cent per pound an' tin per cint. ad valorum,'
he says, 'which will give th' dog all th' crude fleas he wants, an' yit
shut out th' educated flea from compytition with grand opera an'
Barnum's circus.' An' so 'twas voted," concluded Mike Flannery.
Monsieur Jules fidgeted and looked at his watch.
"Be easy," said Flannery. "There's no hurry. I'm waitin' for a frind of
mine, an' 't is fine t' talk over th' tariff with educated min once in a
while. Th' frind I'm lookin' for anny minute now is a fine expert on th'
subject of th' tariff himself. O'Halloran is th' name of him. Him as is
th' second deputy assistant collector of evidence of fraud an' smugglin'
in th' revenue service of th' United States. 'T was a mere matter of
doubt in me mind," said Flannery, easily, "regardin' th' proper
valuation of th' professor's fleas. I was thinkin' mebby one dollar was
not enough t' pay for a flea, not crude, so I asks O'Halloran. ''T will
be easy t' settle that,' says O'Halloran, 'for th' value of thim will be
set down in th' books of th' United States, at th' time whin th'
professor paid th' duty on thim. I'll just look an' see how much th'
duty was paid on,' says he. 'But mebby th' professor paid no duty on
thim,' I says. 'Make no doubt of that,' says O'Halloran, 'for unless th'
professor was a fool he would pay th' duty like a man, for th' penalty
is fine an' imprisonmint,' says O'Halloran, 'an' I make no doubt he paid
it. I will be out Sunday at four,' says O'Halloran, 'an' give ye th'
facts, an' I hope th' duty is paid as it should be, for if 't is not
paid 't will be me duty t' arrest th' professor an'--'"
Flannery stopped and listened.
"Is that th' train from th' city I hear?" he said. "O'Halloran will sure
be on it."
The professor arose, and so did the two friends who had come with him to
help him carry home the one hundred dollars. The professor slapped
himself on the pockets, looked in his hat, and slapped himself on the
pockets again.
"_Mon Dieu!_" he exclaimed, and in an instant he and his friends were
in an excited conversation that went at the rate of three hundred words
a minute. Then the professor turned to Flannery.
"I return," he said. "I have lost the most valued thing, the picture of
the dear mamma. It is lost! It is picked of the pocket! Villains! I go
to the police. I return."
He did not wait for permission, but went, and that was the last Mike
Flannery or Mrs. Muldoon ever saw of him.
"An' t' think of me a free trader every day of me born life," said Mike
Flannery that evening to Mrs. Muldoon, "but I be so no more. I see th'
protection there is in th' protective tariff, Missus Muldoon, mam."