WILL YOU GIVE ME A KISS?

Wanganui Herald, Volume LIII, Issue 16037, 30 January 1920, Page 9

WILL YOU GIVE ME A KISS?

ROMANCE ON AN OMNIBUS

“Will you give me a kiss?” I have heard that sentence in many strange places, but never before have I heard** it on the top of an omnibus (writes G. Gilby, in the Daily Express). I don’t pretend that people never kiss; hut they don’t talk about it. The top of the omnibus was empty, except for myself and two people who were sitting on the seat behind me. I scented a beautiful romance, and, I must admit, looked round, fully expecting to see “a tall, dark man with a silky moustache and a winsome girl of 19.” I was wrong. The hero was a portly gentleman of about 65, and the heroine was what is described in magazines as an angular spinster of fifty summers. It was the lady who had spoken. At once the whole story seemed clear to me. Here was a husband and wife who had quarrelled and were about to make it up. I waited for the husband to reply. Instead, he gave an awkward little cough. There was a pause of two minutes. Theu the following dialogue took place: “Will you give me a kiss ” “Madam, I am a married man.” "Don’t married men kiss?” “Only their wives.” “Do you know why I want you to kiss me?” ‘ I‘have no idea.”

“Then I will tell you. 1 am a poor woman, but I have a brother who is very rich. I have had a bet with him that before I get off this omnibus I shall be kissed by a man. If I win my bet I shall be able to send a little orphan child in whom I am interested to the country for a month.” “I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“I think it is very unkind of you.” (She began to cry.) This was too much for the poor old gentleman. He imparted a kiss on the lady’s cheek, and hurried off the omnibus.

No sooner had he gone than the lady moved forward, and sat down next to me. She opened the conversation. “You heard all that passed between that old gentleman and myself.” I admitted that I had. She then hoped that I did not consider her a forward woman. I assured her that I was full of admiration for her efforts on behalf of the orphan child.

“Thank you,” she said. “He’s such a dear little fellow, and a month will do him so much good. The doctor says that what he really wants' is two months. If I am kissed twice I shall win twice the amount.”

Without a moment’s delay I shut my eyes—sent the child away for two months, and got off the omnibus. A few minutes later I wanted to know the time.

The problems which now lie before me are these:

1. Does the orphan child exist? 2. If he does, has he got my watch? 3. If he has got my watch, has he also got the old gentleman’s watch?

4. If he has them both, which keeps the better time?