As they appeared on deck, my friend, with an air of conscious triumph, turned to direct my attention to his companion, who was making sure of his success by concocting faces.
"St-st-st-stop!" ordered Tom. "No-no-none of that! You st-st-stay just as you were made. You ca-ca-ca-ca-can't be beat!"
And he wasn't.
It takes an Irishman to be a Job's comforter.
Patrick Brannagan, whose face was so plain that his friends used to tell him it was an offense to the landscape, happened to be as poor as he was homely.
One day a neighbor met him, and asked:
"How are you, Pat?"
"Mighty bad! Sure, 'tis starvation that's starin' me in the face."
"Begorra!" exclaimed his neighbor, sympathetically, "it can't be very pleasant for either of yez!"
Say, have you ever tried the Christian Science cure? It's simply great.