WIT AND HUMOUR

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1682, 25 May 1904, Page 14

WIT AND HUMOUR

ABOUT TUB SIZE OIF IT. Little Willie: I say, pa, what is a luxury ? ■ Pa: A luxury, my son, is anything you happen to want when you haven’t got the price. SORRY HE SPOKE. “What makes you think she has a saving sense of humour?” “Because she laughed so heartily when she described the way you proposed to her.' MODERN SUPPOSITION., Bachelor: What’s your baby making such a row about in the next room? Newlywed: Oh, his mother wants her own way a\bout some thing, I suppose. HOW HE L-OST HER. She: I suppose if you met a really pretty girl you wouldn’t care anything about me any more. He: Nonsense, Kate! What do I care for good looks? You suit me perfectly. ONE OF THE REQUISITES. “I dunno hut what Josh ’ud make one o’ these literary folks,” said Farmer Corntossel. “What makes you think so?” asked his wife. “Every time he gets his photograph took ho looks •so kind o’ far-away an’ foolish.” UNSELFISH FELLOW. Bill: I say, old man, how in the world did you ever consent to let your wife pick out your neckties for you ? Jill: Well, she showed such good taste in her choice of- a husband that I thought her taste would be good in other directions. A CORRECTED BILL. Householder: Did the master plumber make the corrections in that bill I returned to him? Collector: Yes, sir, and he found an overcharge of two shillings. “Ah! Just as I said.” “Yes, sir; but it took about an hour to look up the items, and he charges five shillings an hour for his time. Three shillings more, please.”

AT AN AFTERNOON CONCERT. Olive: She does sing well, really. (Applauds daintily.)! Fred: Not half bad. Olive: I think she’s simply perfect. Do clap. Fred: I wish they’d ventilate this room a (bit. Olive: It seems to be getting a little stuffy, doesn’t it? Fred: I can hardly breathe. Olive: How much more is there? Fred: Heaps. We’re - only about halif way through. Wouldn’t you like some tea ? Olive: Don’t. Fred: Why not? Let’s sneak out. Olivo: No, I can’t. I promised her I’d stay to the end. Fred: That doesn’t matter. She won’t see you go. Olivo: No; hut there are lots of her friends here. Some of them would he sure to tell her.’ Fred: W r ell, why not pretend to faint ? (Giggles.) Olive: Don’t be absurd. - Fred: I’ll carry you out. (Giggles more.) Olive: Do be quiet. I shan’t bring you to a concert again. Fred: That’s a promise. Olive: I’m sorry you don’t like it. Fred: So am I. Olive: I suppose you’d rather he at a music hall? Fi’ed: Much. Olive: Don’t let me keep you* Fred: Will you come, too? Olive: Don’t be vulgar. Fred: I can’t help it. It’s the atmosphere. Olive: That’s rather feeble. Fred: I’m feeling feeble. Will you come? Olive: CM,ab would never forgive me. Fred: Yes, she will. I’ll stick up for you. Come along. (Rises.) Olive: Wait a minute. I’ve lost my programme. Oh, here it is. (Rises.) Fred: Phew. That’s better. There’s some air out here. Olive: This is really most disgraceful conduct. I shall tell Mab it was all your fault. . . Fred: I don’t care. Let’s hope she won’t send you any tickets next time. Olive: She’s sure to, worse luck. fflHlE LEADING LADY’S LOSS. The beautiful, talented actress had had her jewels stolen. The detective and reporter reached her hotel at the same time. While the detective was parleying with the maid and manager, the reporter was escorted to the actress’s suite by the press agent. “I don’t see how 'it could have happened,” said the b. t. actress to the news gatherer. “When I same home from rehearsal I took off my necklace of pearls and laid it on this dressing table. The window was up, but the screen was shut. Of course, a person

could have got into the room from the fire escape, but I hardly think it probable. Now, here is a picture of the house in which I was born and lived until I was 10 years old, • and hero is a picture of one I lived in from the time I was 10 until I was 21, and here is a snapshot of one —no, no—that other ' was my last home. H§re is a brief biography of my parents and an autobiography of myself. Here is how I looked when I was a schoolgirl. Here is my photograph taken while 1 was an understudy to iMdle. de la Cwzrytz. Here I am costumed for my first performance in “The Last Rose of Summer.” This is how I looked last winter when I started in the provinces in “Her First Husband.” Next week I am leading lady in the comedy “Thumbs Up.” Now, shall I send a man to carry these?” The reporter bowed himself out of the room, promising to send up the staff artist and the photographer.