SHORT STORIES.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XLII, Issue 2148, 10 July 1920, Page 1

SHORT STORIES.

The editor of the woman’s page was on his vacation, and the sporting editor had stepped into the breach. ‘Well, what do yon think of this 1 ?” lie snorted, and held up a perfumed nolo. “Here’s a silly woman wants to know how to make a lemon tart. As though' a lemon wasn’t tart enough already!”’ The little girl had been assiduously instructed in the arts and graces of courtesy, and when she told her mamma how the strange boy at the party had kissed her, she did it with a demure, reserved air, that would have delighted her mamma under other circumstances. “Ami he kissed me,” she said. “Kissed you!” the mamma exclaimed. “And you, Agnes —what did you do 1 ?” “Mamma, I didn’t forget my politeness. 1 said ‘Thank you!’” To hear the well-known preacher quite a crowd had collected. And he was fully up to expectations, declaiming and orating loudly enough to satisfy the most captious critic. In the midst of his eloquent sermon an infant began to Wail, but the minister kept steadily and eloquently on. At last the mother of the infant rose to leave the church with it. “.Don’t go on my account, madam,” said the minister, from his pulpit. “Your child does not disturb me in the least.” .“But you disturb my child,” answered the mother, coldly. The following composition on “The Call Its Life and Habits,” was written by an eight-year-old scholar; It did not win a prize! “A cat has whiskers round bis mouth to feel. If lie hadn’t these whiskers he would be almost -useless. He also has whiskers round bis eyes; these are necessary to see with. Wit bout any whiskers round his eyes or nos and mouth be could not smell, feel, or see; and a dog could cbme right up to the cat without the cat knowing it, and could bile him. A cat is very wise, and all this wiseness that the. cat has mostly comes from her whiskers; so that is why the cat has them.” Telephone girls sometimes glory in their mistakes if there is a joke in consequence. The story is told by a telephone operator in one of the London exchanges about a man who asked her for the number of a local theatre. He got the wrong number, and without asking to whom he was talking, lie said: “Can 1 get a box for two to-night?” A startled voice answered him at the other end of the line: “We don’t have boxes for two!!” “Isn’t (his the —theatre?” he called, crossly. “Why, no,” was the answer, “this is an undertaker!” A motorist, having lost his way, called at a wayside inn to make inquiries. The proprietor, a deaf man, was behind the bar, the only other occupant being another old man, who also was deaf. The motorist asked the proprietor bow far it was to Brandon, and the old man said, “Certainly, sir,” and handed him a brandy. The motorist explained that he didn’t want a brandy, but wished to know how far it was to Brandon. The proprietor replied: “Yes, sir, it’s the iiuest brandy to be had in the country!” In despair the motorist turned to. the other old man, saying: “Perhaps you ean tell me the road to Brandon?” And the old customer said: “Tlmuk’ee kindly, sir. I don’t mind if 1 do!” Prohibition lias its humorous side, bul it is usually humour of a' sardonic .character which its victim does nut appreciate. A moving story from one of the fashionable American winter resorts is told by the Washington correspondent of the Morning Post. In the luggage of a rich man was one of those mammoth wardrobe trunks, which on its departure had been packed full of whisky, bottled in bond for its owner under his private label, and priceless almost in these days. Arrived at his destination, the man opened his travelling cellar, only to find bricks instead of the, precious fluid, and pinned to the lid was a roughly-scrawled note, reading, “We won’t tell, and you daren’t,- 1 ' and as it is a violation of the law to transport liquor, the victim appreciated the wisdom of silence. “Hallo! Hallo!”shouted the fireman, answering the frantic telephone summons. , “Are you there ” came back, in < • r •- "i

sweet feminine tones. “Yes.” “Who is it?” “The lire station.” “I wish to say that my front garden —” “This is the fire station you’ve got!” y “Yes, I know. My front garden runs along the side of the Bigilames’ house. Now, only to-day I sprinkled some fine new grass seed on my lawn —” “This ain’t a gardener’s!” roared the fireman. “1 know. I know. But I want to, say that as my garden is my particular pride —” “Wot’s it all got to do with us?” “Oh, well, the Bigllames asked me to tell you that their house was on lire, so don’t let your nasty firemen trample —” , But he was gone.