Yesterday was a nice day, but sort of dull. There was nothing cosmic in it; it was really trivial: too warm to ski, too wet to play touch football. So the four roommates were in their rooms, sitting quietly.

One of them, sharp-cared, heard a soda cracker acting up in the closet where the icebox was placed. Skeptical, he approached the door cantiously. The "causa causans" was a tiny bluishgrey animal, nibbling. Lie sat down on the floor, fascinated, and watched it.

The hunting instinct rising in him he arose and took form a box one of the firecrackers he had saved for such a special occasion. It made a terrific noise, exciting the other three and driving the creature out of his haunt towards a bedroom. At once there was mass armament--pokers, squash racquets, and hammers were grabbed; one roommate, who went by the name of Bruce, rolled his trousers for protection. After a hasty tactical conference they attacked the bedroom, closing the door afterwards so their would be no egress. Three dropped to their kness; the fourth ascended a chair to observe. Desk, bookcase, rug, mattress were examined. No prey.

Then, the one with the rolled-up trousers, Bruce, had an idea. "Open the door," he said, "and we'll get it as it goes out." All of them gathered around the door and posed. "Ready?" asked Bruce. They nodded. The door opened, and lo and behold! the mouse was on the threshold peeking in.