The old lady xapped on the window of the tiny station booking-office. "I want a ticket for Florence," she announced. After hunting vainly through several railway guides, the clerk came baciv to the window with a somewhat ruffled temper. "Where is Florence, anyway?" he demanded. "That's her — the little dog sitting over there with the luggage," the old lady rnswered sweetly-
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Hawke's Bay Herald-Tribune, Issue 202, 11 September 1937, Page 16
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61Page 16 Advertisements Column 2 Hawke's Bay Herald-Tribune, Issue 202, 11 September 1937, Page 16
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