LOST, OR, LUCID INFORMATION
Kind-hearted Old Gent. "There, there, don't cry! What's your name and where do you live!"
Chorus. "Boohoo! We'se Doolie's twins."
"Sancta Simplicitas."—"Auntie, ought Bertie Wilson to have smiled so often at me in church?"
"No, dear. Where was he sitting?"
"Behind me."
Philanthropic Old Lady (to little boy caressing dog). "That is right, little boy, always be kind to animals." Little Boy. "Yes, 'm. I'll have this tin can tied to his tail soon's I've got him quiet."
"Poor likkle doggie—hasn't got any fevvers on!"
Master Tom. "Wish I could catch a cold just before Christmas."
Effie. "Why?"
Master Tom. "Well, ma's always sayin', 'feed a cold.' Wouldn't I? Just!"
"Please, auntie, may I have the fairy off the Christmas tree—if I don't ask you for it?"
Shocked Mother. "Oh, Tommy! What have you been doing?" Tommy (who has just returned from the first day of a preliminary course at the village school). "Fighting with Billy Brown." Mother. "That horrid boy at the farm? Don't you ever quarrel with him again!" Tommy. "I ain't likely to. He can lick me!"
