"Say, Tom, can you tell me what has become of Walter Jones?"
"Why," says he, "you're Walter Jones yourself, ain't you?"
"I know it," says I, "but I want to know where he's got to."
He took me home.
The next morning my wife thought I was down-hearted. So I was. She tried
to cheer me up.
"Oh, Walter! look here, the morning paper says that in Yumyami, Africa,
a wife may be bought for twenty yards of cotton cloth."
"Well," says I, "I guess a good wife is worth it."
Then she started on another tack.
"By the way, you know Charlie Benson, don't you?"