EDITOR'S WALLET.

Otago Witness, Issue 2928, 27 April 1910, Page 87

EDITOR'S WALLET.

Silence. Cynious; “It is impossible for a woman to keep a secret.” Henpe'ekke: “I don’t know about that. My wife and I were engaged for several weeks before she said anything to me about it.” iVof as Expected. A certain lady who was always anxious to let her friends know that she was not the same age as her husband once remarked to a visitor : “My husband is fifty years of age', and there are ten years between us.” The caller, with an exclamation of surprise, said: “Really, now, why you look as young as he does!” For Cold Feet. Mrs Rumples always manages to get, and keep, good servants, probablv because she is kind to them. It was iust like her the other evening, when it turned rather cold, to think of her general._Jemima. “Jemima,” she said, “it’s very chilly tonight, and I’m sorry I forgot to buy a bedwarmer for you. You ought to take a flatiron to bed with you.” Next morning Mrs Rumples inquired how her maid had got on with the flat-iron. “Pretty well, ma’am,” Jemima replied. “I got it nearly warm before morning; but I don’t think it’s such a good way of heating an iron as putting it on the gas-stove!” A Very ‘‘Pat” Answer. “Hist!” whispered Paddy. He was crouching beneath the sign of the three halls, watchful, alert, and he had no ears for the pleasantries of his old friend Mike. “Phwat’s the matther, Pathrick?” whispered Mike anxiously. Paddy laid a finger on his lips. “Have you gone cranky?” pursued Mike, unheeding. “Tell me, Pathrick, phwat is it?” “It’s loike this,” whispered back Paddy. “It’s just twelve months to-day Oi pawned my suit, an’ Oi’m told in a twelvemonth it’ll run out. Nivcr a worrd, Moike! I’m sthandin’ here waitin’ to be ready for it as it oomes. running through the doorway.” The Patient Man. Mr Henpeck had hesitated a long while about doing this bold thing, but he felt that now was the time or never. “Dear,” he said, in a very timid voice, “1 wish you wouldn’t call me ‘Leo’ any more!” “Why not?’’ demanded his wife explosively. “Leo is your given name.” “I know, my dear. But it makes my friends laugh when you call me that. I was thinking you might call me ‘Job,’ just for a pet name!” Practical Arithmetic. “Now, boys,” said the schoolmaster, “before I break up work for the day I want to set you one more simple sum. Can any >f you tell me, if I bought eight pounds of bacon at lljd a .pound, what it -would be?”

The class looked at the ceiling and then at its boots, and then bit its penholders. Suddenly Teddy Brown shot up his hand. “Well, Teddy,” said the master, “I’m pleased to see I have, at least, one smart boy in my class. Now, what would it be? ’ “Please, sir,” cried Teddy Brown—“please, sir, at elevenpence-’a’penny, it’d be ’am!” Correct. Of course it was the most wonderful baby in the world. That went without saying. But, all the same, they were putting him to the test and questioning him playfully as to his senses. “What are these for?” They touched his eyes. “To see wiv,” he said. “And this?” touching his nose. “To smell wiv.” “And your mouth?” “To eat wiv.” “And what are your ear® for?” Baby puckered his brows. Then the light of intelligence overspread' his countenance. “I know,” he said. “To wash!” A Question of Hearing’. The burly farmer strode anxiously into the post office. “Have you got any letter for Mike Howe?” he asked. The new postmaster looked him up and down. “For—who?” he snapped. “Mike Howe!” repeated the farmer. The postmaster turned aside. “I don’t understand,” he returned stiffly. “Don’t understand!” roared the applicant. “Can’t you understand plain English? _ I asked if you’ve got any letter for Mike Howe!” “Well, I haven’t!” snorted the postmaster. “Neither have I a letter for anybody else’s cow! Get out!” Must Finish the Came. In a small country town there once lived a couple of young fellows who had gone into partnership in a barber’s business, and in order to pass the time me particularly dull afternoon Tom proposed to Dick that they indulge in a quiet game o.f “nap.” The quiet game went on hour after hour, and when the shades of night had fallen for some time neither of. them noticed that a customer had entered. He surveyed them in silent contempt for some few minutes. “Sorry if I interrupt,” he said, acidly, at last, “but I’m in a hurry. Which of you fervid sportsmen is going to shave me?” Tom looked over the hand which had just beer dealt him. Then, in a voice full of suppressed excitement, he said: “Just one moment, sir. Wait until we see who owns this shop!”