“The other day, I saw a farmer on Fourteenth Street, so I asked him to hold my cigar while I went into Huber’s. When I came out, he was there with the cigar, all right.”
“Well, he wasn’t a farmer.”
“No? What was he?”
“A cigar-holder.”
“Doesn’t her hair look killing?”
“No wonder; it’s dyed.”
“If they put the x-ray over the hand the bones will come right out.”
“Bring it over to the house fish day.”