Mrs. Bensonhurst—So I believe.
Mrs. Flatbush—But don’t you know where?
Mrs. Bensonhurst—No.
Mrs. Flatbush—Don’t you feel somewhat concerned?
Mrs. Bensonhurst—Why, no. When he was here I knew he was somewhere in America, but half of the time I didn’t know where.
SPIRIT OF FRANCE
A tired and dusty doughboy drew up in front of a shell-battered house in Château-Thierry and asked a French woman if he could get a drink of water.
“Oui, mon garcon,” said the woman. “You come right along with me.”
After the soldier had obtained his drink and was about to depart, he remarked that her house had suffered more or less from the guns.