For the Sunday Inter Ocean.

      Mr. Fillisy came home in hot haste. Important business called him out of town within an hour's time.

      "Oh, dear!" sighed Mrs. Fillisy, as she undertook to restore to order the chaos of Mr. Fillisy's search through closets and bureaus for the "few things" he considered necessary to his comfort; "what shall I do? It's almost dark, and nobody in the house but the new girl, and I haven't time to go to mother's; and I'm so afraid. Josiah knows it, too. Why didn't he leave me a pistol or something? I never shot off a pistol, and don't know what the trigger is; but I'm sure I should feel safer if I had one. How dreadful it would be to be murdered here all alone, and Josiah to come home and find me weltering in my gore! Ugh!" and Mrs. Fillisy enjoyed a good shiver over the sanguinary picture she had conjured up.

      But supper was announced at that moment, and Mrs. Fillisy had not time to revel in melancholy wonderings as to how "Josiah would feel then," and it was not till after the two little ones were snugly tucked in bed that she had leisure to reflect upon her lonely and unprotected state.

      "I don't see why Josiah hasn't had burglar alarms put in the house. It would be so much better. I'll talk to him when he comes home. I wonder what they're like, anyway? Alarm clocks, I suppose, and that sort of thing. Now, why couldn't one invent something simpler? I wonder" — and here Mrs. Fillisy's thoughts were arrested by a bright idea. She was seated by the stove and her glance fell upon the wire guard which kept the wee toddlers from too close contact with its glowing surface.

      "The very thing!" she exclaimed. "I believe I'll invent an alarm myself. Talk about women having no inventive genius. I'll have Josiah apply for a patent the moment he gets home. Now, I'll just get it and try, and if any burglar undertakes to get in here to-night he'll just wish he hadn't, that's all! Tum, te, tum, te, tum," and Mrs. Fillisy started up in high glee.

      After considerable pushing and hauling about in a closet under the stairs, she brought to view a large coil of barbed wire, in which Mr. F. had the previous summer invested for the purpose of surmounting his orchard fence.

      "Now isn't it lucky that Josiah didn't use this? If he had, I couldn't have shown him what a smart wife he has, and he wouldn't be able to refute, with success, the assertion that woman has knowledge of mechanism. I'll show them! Ouch! What mean stuff it is to handle! But all the better for Mr. Burglar. Now, where'll I put it first?"

      Mrs. Fillisy pondered deeply, with all the gravity worthy of a great inventor, and at last decided that as the hired girl had gone to bed, and there was no one but herself about, she would build such a wall of barbed wire at the foot of the stairs as no burglar could possibly surmount. But when she had wound it around the newel-post, with many "ah's" and "oh's," she found that the wire wouldn't fasten itself to the wall, and as for this brave inventor's making a long and lonesome journey into the woodshed for hammer and nail — no, indeed, she wouldn't. She'd show Josiah that a woman's mind could triumph over matter.

      "No man would think of this," she said to herself, as she proceeded to fasten the wire in and out of the claw-feet that held the stair-rods in position. "Dear me, it's slow work; but then all problems are slow of solution, and Mrs. F—, you mustn't be too smart an inventor. I wonder what folks 'ill do who haven't got stair-rods? Get some, I suppose; or, maybe, now, when Josiah comes home he can think of something to hold the wire down, anyway. Ouch! just see my fingers bleed! Horrid stuff! I wonder how Mr. Burglar will like that." And Mrs. Fillisy surveyed with honest pride the work of her fertile brain and nimble, but wounded fingers.

      She had contrived, by dint of twisting and turning the barbed wire in every shape and direction, to create a perfect battery of needle points on the lower step. "You couldn't put your finger down without getting pricked," she soliloquized as she attacked the next step. "Now you see a person might have a carpet of this, that she could spread down before windows, and doors, and if a burglar were to step real hard on it he'd surely have to scream, and that would wake one, and then, while he was nursing his foot, why one could shoot him, or catch him, or something. Oh dear, there's another scratch! What awful hard work it is to be an inventor!" and Mrs. Fillisy stuck her finger in her mouth and sighed deeply. It was 11 o'clock before she had completed her net-work of wire upon the last step, and then, too tired to do as she had intended, stretch the wire across her bed-room door — she contented herself with rolling the dressing-case against the door, and retired, convinced that no burglar would set foot inside her room that night.

      But hardly had she laid her head on her pillow when there sounded from the little cot beside her the wail, "I want a drink! I want a drink! I'se awful thirsty."

      Merciful sakes! She had forgotten, in her interest in her invention, to bring up any water! "There, there, darling! Now go to sleep! That's mamma's pet."

      "I 'on't! I want a drink! I can't go to seep, widout a drink."

      "Oh, dear! There's no help for it, I suppose. However in this world am I to get down those stairs?"

      Taking the night lamp in her hand she surveyed the situation. "The only way is to slide down," and suiting the action to the word she imitated the riotous schoolboy in his wild flight through space. She reached the lower floor safely enough, albeit somewhat jarred by her unaccustomed locomotion; but when she had filled her pitcher and retraced her steps to the foot of the stairs, she regarded the proofs of her inventive genius with horrified dismay.

      From the dim regions above came the wail, "I want a drink," while the chorus of a still smaller voice filled the night with the music of its "Meows, meows."

      "Yes, darling, mother is coming." But how? She couldn't slide up. Beside, her hands were full. But these clamorous voices called forth every energy, and, leaving her lamp at the foot of the stairs, she crept up slowly, hand over hand, foot over foot, on the outside of the bannister, and, groping her way to her room, quieted the voice with the few drops of water remaining in the pitcher, and then went down, in another wild flight after her lamp.

      Worn out with her exertions, when she once more reached her room, she fell asleep almost immediately. She was awakened a little later by a shrill scream of "Howly Moses! Oh, wurra, wurra! It's a murtherin' snake, it is!" and jumping up bewildered, she recognized Bridget's voice in the hall.

      "Why, what is the matter, Bridget?"

      "Shure and matther is it? It's a snake or some other murtherin' baste has hurted me fut, that bad! musha! musha!" and Bridget sat on the hall floor rolling from side to side, and holding her wounded foot in her hand.

      "Oh, no, Bridget, it's only the burglar alarm. I forgot to tell you about it. See, my hands are all cut up by it, too, but it'll keep burglars away."

      "Burglar alarm, is it, thin! An' who put it there, if yez plaze?" By this time Bridget was standing erect and glaring at her mistress with vengeance in her eyes.

      "Why, I did! You see Mr. Fillisy is gone away and I wanted to feel safe —"

      "Shure an' it's safe yez are from this night on. I'll be lavin' yez in the mornin'. I never worked afore where a dacent gurrul couldn't go down the stairs for a bit of clove ile to put in her achin' tooth widout steppin' on a burglar alarm and havin' her feet hurted that bad! Shure an' I'll be afther lavin' in the mornin', ma'am," and Bridget limped toward her room in a state of unappeasable indignation.

      "I'm so sorry, Bridget; I didn't think," began Mrs. Fillisy, deprecatingly.

      "Shure, an' ye'll think in the mornin', ma'am," and Bridget banged her door with a force that shut off all further explanations.

      Mrs. Fillisy retired to bed to weep, she had been at such pains to procure Bridget, who had been recommended as very efficient help, and whose culinary powers Mr. Fillisy had especially praised that very day. How angry Josiah would be when he came home and found Bridget gone. Dear! dear! and all because of that burglar alarm!

      Somehow her pride in her invention began to wane. She wasn't quite so sure now that Josiah would be prepared to admit that woman had as much genius as her so-called lord and master.

      She was crying silently over her trials when suddenly she heard a sound that caused every individual hair on her head to stand erect. Somebody was at the front door! She couldn't be mistaken! There! It opened! and yes, hear those stealthy steps along the hall, and there goes the sitting-room door! Oh dear! There's a burglar in the house for certain! How frightened she was! There! she heard him moving cautiously about in the sitting-room. What could he be doing? Getting the silver? Searching for money? Oh! she did hope she wouldn't be murdered! Poor Josiah would feel so bad. And then she thought all at once of the burglar alarm.

      "Ha! I have thee now!" she quoted, mentally. "One step and thou art doomed." She waited patiently, thinking meanwhile how proud Josiah would be of his little wife, and how the whole city would ring with her praises for having outwitted a burglar. Presently she heard the stealthy steps coming nearer, nearer, and then a smothered exclamation. She just lay back in bed and laughed. He was done for she was sure. What a pity she hadn't a pistol; she could shoot him so easily now. She listened. Another step. A bold burglar, certainly. He must know she was alone. She ceased laughing. Still another step! "Thunder and Mars!" came in muffled tones up the stairs and along the hall. Merciful heaven! he was coming in. "Great Scott! Jerusalem! Ten thousand furies! Sulphur and brimstone!" was wafted to her ears in half smothered tones. She waited to hear no more. She sprang from her bed, putting her mouth to the crack in the door, called out, "Oh, please, Mr. Burglar, do go away! Take anything you want; there's plenty of silver down stairs, and my watch and jewel-case are in the cabinet with the silver trimmings. Take them all; you are welcome to them, indeed you are; and if there's anything else down stairs — but please don't kill me, Josiah would feel so bad — and, and — if you are going down be careful not to hurt your feet —" But she was interrupted by a terrific howl of "Great guns! Martha, it's me. What in thunder ails these stairs? Some darned thing or another has cut my feet all to pieces. Open the door, quick, can't you? I'm bleeding to death! Quick, I say! Ain't you got no sense! Let a fellow stand here and lose his life blood because you're afraid of some fool burglar! I want to see what the blasted thing is. I hope I ain't poisoned. Maybe it's a scorpion or a tarantula, or — or —"

      "Oh, no! Josiah, it's only the burglar alarm. You see, I —" began Mrs. Fillisy, throwing the door open, and letting the light fall on Josiah, who stood midway on the stairs, vainly endeavoring to hold both feet in his hands at once.

      "Oh! oh! oh! Confound your old burglar alarm! What in creation's name is it anyway? It's killing me. I can't stand nor sit down, nor — nor anything."

      "Climb on to the bannister, Josiah, I did."

      "Climb on to the bannister, woman! And so you've been playin' circus while I have been away. I thought when I married you I had found a woman of discretion; but it seems I was mistaken. You're like all the rest. Sliding down the bannister, indeed! Now tell me what all this confounded nonsense means," said Josiah, perching himself astride the bannister, and eying his wife malignantly.

      "Oh, Josiah, indeed I haven't been playing circus at all," exclaimed Mrs. F—, bursting into tears. "I — I — was afraid, and so I — I — invented a burglar alarm, and — and — I never dreamed of your coming home — but I thought if a burglar should get in, it would prevent his getting upstairs, and — and I guess it would." And she smiled ruefully upon the barbed points at her feet.

      "Stars and garters! Prophets and conjurers! When will women cease to be fools?" and the representative of the world's wisdom shifted uneasily in his enforced position.

      "Will you kindly tell me, oh, great inventor, how am I to get up these stairs? My stockings are already plastered with blood to my poor feet!"

      "Climb up the railing on the outside, like this," and she showed him, by example, how easily he could gain the upper landing! When once there, he turned spitefully to his wife with the words:

      "Martha Ann Fillisy, you are the biggest fool I ever saw! If you ever invent another thing, I'll shut you up in a lunatic asylum!"

(THE END)