What kind? asked the male salesman.
That brown set in the window will do if it’s not too dear, replied the
tall, strong man.
Oh, you mean skunk? said the salesman.
The salesman is still in the hospital.
* * * * *
Miss Fleyme—Oh, Mr. Nocoyne, how lovely of you to bring me these
beautiful roses! How sweet they are—and how fresh! I do believe there is
a little dew on them yet!
Mr. Nocoyne—W-well, yes—there is; but I’ll pay it to-morrow.
* * * * *
Madam, I must request you to remove your hat, remarked the polite theater
usher.
The lady smiled grimly.
Does my hat annoy the little man behind me?
Yes, madam.
Then you’ll find it much easier to remove him.
* * * * *
How’s this? sneered the jealous goose. How happens it you aren’t the
leading attraction at some Thanksgiving dinner?
The beautiful young turkey blushed and hung her head. Then she said
softly—
Nobody axed me.
* * * * *
A drummer approached a girl in charge of a soda fountain and before
giving his order asked—How is the milkmaid to-night?
Milk isn’t made; it comes from cows, you fool, was the retort. He was
glad to close his mouth with some of it.
* * * * *
No man is as well known as he thinks he is, says Caruso. I was motoring
on Long Island recently. My car broke down and I entered a farmhouse to
get warm. The farmer and I chatted, and when he asked my name I told him
modestly that it was Caruso. At that he threw up his hands.
Caruso! he exclaimed. Robinson Caruso, the great traveler! Little did I
expect ever to see a man like yer in this here humble kitchen, sir!
* * * * *
What do you mean by an “eight-day clock?”
One that will run eight days without winding.
Huh, then how long would it run if you wound it?
* * * * *
I sometimes wonder, said an Englishman visiting New York, to a pretty
girl sitting next to him at dinner, what becomes of all your peaches here
in America.
Oh, was the reply, we eat what we can, and we can what we can’t.
* * * * *
Look here! angrily exclaimed the householder, pointing to a cigar-stump
that lay on the floor of the back porch. That was in the lump of ice you
left here yesterday morning! Well, belligerently replied the iceman, what
did you expect to get for fifteen cents—a box of perfectos?
* * * * *
I, said the temperance man, strongly object to the custom of christening
ships with champagne.