DON’T SAY “ROVER”
The inhabitants of a Sussex village recently received somewhat short notice of the visit of a regiment of soldiers, and local butchers’ shops were absolutely cleared out in the endeavor to treat the visitors well at their various one-night billets.
One motherly old dear, who was cute enough to foresee the possible shortage, was early on the market and managed to secure a nice piece of steak weighing two-and-a-half pounds.
Her three men arrived, very tired and very hungry, and by the time their ablutions were through the meat was done to a turn.
“There,” she said, proudly, as she placed it on the table, “I thought you’d like somethin’ substantial. If you manage to eat that you won’t be wanting much more till the morning. You’re lucky to get it, I can tell you, for there isn’t another scrap o’ meat to be had in the place for love or money. Just shout out if you’re wantin’ any more tea made.”
The soldiers decided to have a joke with the old lady. They transferred the steak to a spare plate, popped it under the table, and called for her attendance.
“Are the other two steaks ready yet?” came the question.
The old lady eyed the empty dish and held up her hands in astonishment. “Other two!” she exclaimed. “Why, I thought that one was enough for the three of you. Well, well, I’m done altogether. I can’t beg, borrow, or steal a bit, and I’m right down sorry for you, that I am.”
“It’s all right, mother,” laughed the soldiers. “It’s too bad of us—we were only having a joke. The steak’s under the table.”
“Good gracious!” screamed the lady. “So is Rover!”
Instantly the men dived underneath the table to secure their meat. They saw a big black retriever dog, looking on very good terms with himself, beside an empty dish. The steak was gone.
And three very tired and very hungry men made a meal off bread and cheese. It is dangerous to say “Rover” in their hearing nowadays.