“ Doctor,’” said the wild-eyed man apprehensively, dreadfully upset, “I don’t know what to do.” “ What s the trouble?” “ The ghosts of my departed relatives come and perch on the top of the fence posts all round my garden,”, replied the other, “ Every night it’s the same—they just sit there waiting,. waiting, waiting. What shall I do?” “ Sharpen the top of the posts,” advised the doctor.
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Bibliographic details
Evening Star, Issue 22576, 18 February 1937, Page 1
Word Count
65Page 1 Advertisements Column 6 Evening Star, Issue 22576, 18 February 1937, Page 1
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