Widow—“Hello! Is this the Quartermaster?”
Q. M.—“Yes. What can I do for you?”
Widow—“Please send a man over to take the clothes in.”
Q. M. (stuttering)—“Wha-at?—what’s the matter with the clothes?”
Widow?—“Just take a look at the line—LOOK at it.”
Q. M. (after a pause)—“I don’t see anything wrong with it—it looks good to me.”
Widow—“Heavens! But look at those awful clothes on the line, will you?”
Q. M.—“There DOES seem to be a discordant note in that line, but I can do nothing for you. If I were seen monkeying around that finery I might be deported.”
Widow—“Well, you needn’t make fun of me.”
Q. M.—“I would like to oblige you, but I cannot meddle with such matters.”