A BARGAIN.
"I say, Bobby, just give us a shove with this 'ere parcel on to this 'ere truck, and next time yer runs me in, I'll go quiet!"
Little Miss Logic.—Little Dot (to Eminent Professor of Chemistry). Are you a chemist?
Eminent Professor. Yes, my dear.
L. D. Have you got a shop with lovely large, coloured bottles in the window?
E. P. No, my dear; I don't keep a shop.
L. D. Don't you? Then I suppose you don't sell Jones's Jubilee Cough Jujubes?
E. P. No, my dear, I certainly do not.
L. D. (decidedly). I don't think I ought to talk to you any more. You can't be a respectable chemist.
E. P. Why not, my dear?
L. D. 'Cos it says on the box, "Sold by all respectable chemists."
At the School Treat.—Lady Helper (to Small Boy). Will you have some more bread-and-butter?
Small Boy. No fear, when there's kike about.
Lady Helper (trying to be kind). Cake, certainly! Will you have plum or seed?
Small Boy. Plum, in course. D'ye tike me for a canary?
