JOTTINGS.

Putaruru Press, Volume IV, Issue 147, 26 August 1926, Page 2

JOTTINGS.

This One Thing Missing It was the holiday rush and a perspiring man laden with bundles and packages rushed into the railway station and finally stopped, panting and exhausted, beside a small woman sitting tranquilly in the waiting-room, reading. “T—there, now. I know what you are g—going to say. Mary—that same old question. My dear, I—l have forgotten nothing!” ‘‘ But, Jack —’ l “No. I did not forget to buy the fruit or the chocolates”—thrusting a basket of peaches and a box into her lap. ‘‘ Nor the towels, ’ 1 Another package followed. “Nor the knitting silk.” Another package., “Nor the silk wrapper. ’ ’ ,Another package. ‘ ‘ Nor—’ ’ “But, Jack, dear, will ” “No, Mary, I will nob I tell you I have forgotten nothing—nothing! Here’s the comic papers for Bobbie and a book for Agnes and—and here’s the —er —ihingunimybob your aunt wanted. There you are. The whole list—not a single thing missing! ’ ’ His wife smiled up into the triumphant face and said quietly, “ Yes, dear, but in which shop did you leave your hat ?’’ And then—and then their train came Settled the Lawyer The' lawyer insisted on the grocer producing his book, and reluctantly the plaintiff sent for it. The lawyer scanned its entries with a grim smile. “You appear to enter your customers under curious names—or misnames,” he said. “Who. for instance, is ‘'Mrs Nasty Cat ’ ? ’ ’ “That ain’t got nothing to do with this case,” said the plaintiff easring a nervous look around the court. “And who are ‘ Ginger Whiskers.’ ‘Blue Nose,’ and ‘Old Pompous ’ 1 ” asked the lawyer, shooting a swift glance at the three justices on the bench, one of whom gloried in a fiery, red beard; the second had a chronicallyinflamed nasal organ, of a decidedly bluish tint; whilst the third was re-

nowned for his pomposity. All three, too. were known to deal with the plaintiff, though the indignant looks they now cast upon him augured ill for the continuance of their custom. The Court looked at the .Bench and tittered. “And who,” went on the lawyer mercilessly, “is the customer whom you hove entered in your books as 'OldHungry Shark’s Old Fright’?” The look of a man who it as last having a little of his own back came into the grocer’s unhappy face. “That,” said ho readily, seeing that he might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, “is your -wife. You’ll sec she owes me £ls. ’ ’ Bringing It Home The struggling author was at breakfast, when his little girl lisped: “Please, daddy, I want to send a letter to auntie. May I have an envelope and borrow your typewriter? ” “Doris, dear.” admonished the fond mother, “you must learn to say ‘type,’ not ‘tripe.’ ” Just then the postman gave a loud rat-tat, and three heavy thuds on the doormat indicated the extent of the day’s rejections. The writer passed a weary hand across his brow. “Leave the child alone,” he said, “who knows? She may be right.” Curious “Father,” said the little boy, looking up from his picture-book, “if I ask you a question, will you answer it?” | “Certainly,” was the affable reply. | “And not get angry?” ! “Of course not.” 1 “Nor say it’s time I 'was in bed?” j “I won’t do any of those things.” “Well, what I want to know is where does a snake begin when it wags its tail?” Cut Them Out. “That young woman with all those jewels carved out her own fortune.” “Nonsense. i^She’s an ex-chorus girl. She didn’t carve out her own fortune. She married a millionaire.” “Yes, but think how many other chorus girls she had to cut out to marry him. ”