Usually, when writers say, "No sooner said than done", it is often a gross exaggeration. But Nathanial _was_ quick about it, nevertheless. In short order, the problems of focus, image distortion and aberrations were ironed out, and Nathanial ventured once again out into the street to give his newest brain-child its dry-run, so to speak. The glasses worked all right. They worked just fine. And Nathanial Evergood, in a leering ecstasy, raced up and down the streets, peering with his watery and overworked eyes this way and that, up and down, all around and back again. For the next day or so Nathanial was busy as a bee attending every beauty contest and fashion show in town, and even found time for a quick run out to the girl's school. * * * * * The third day following the initial tests of his new seeing-eye glasses, Nathanial suddenly observed there were an uncommon lot of nicely constructed young ladies right in his own department at the office. An opportunist, if ever there was one, Nathanial thought it just might be fun to give the remarkable spectacles a chance to separate the women from the girls, and the girls from the children. This he did and although his work suffered, he spent the better part of the day classifying the office help in various categories, and learning there were at least two ladies who fell in no classification whatsoever. It was the nicest day he had spent at the office in quite some time, he decided. Not long after that the strain brought on by the frequent changes from his normal reading glasses to the prism spectacles became so intense that he decided there was really no good reason why he shouldn't just wear them--the new ones, of course--all the time. The better to preserve his vision, and the better to pursue his avocation. So, he did. And therein lay the downfall of Nathanial Evergood. For, you see, the climax of our story comes a month later, on a sunny July day, when Nathanial made his decision to take a short stroll among the mid-day lady shoppers downtown. Understand, with those glasses of his, Nathanial had become so accustomed to seeing his fellow creatures _au natural_, as it were, that it was on the verge of becoming almost commonplace. But, evil and obscene as he was, it was still highly diverting yet. At any rate, on this particular day, Nathanial had made his way no more than a couple of hundred feet from his front door when a heavy hand was clamped on his shoulder and a rough voice growled, "Where you think _you're_ going, you scrawny old buzzard? You oughta know better." Nathanial Evergood spun about, suddenly petrified. The uniform, of course, was invisible, and the man was no raving beauty, he'd have said. But there was no mistaking the ugly gun and the shiny badge and the authoritative tone of voice. "I _beg_ your pardon," Nathanial spluttered indignantly. "Just what is the meaning of this ridiculous outrage?"