"Why, that mattress I told you to buy."
"Well, I bought it all right," I protested, feebly.
"Yes, and instead of sending home a mattress of live goose feathers, you purchased one of excelsior."
"How can you blame me, my dear," I said, "when I assure you it had a placard fastened to it which read 'Marked Down'? That furniture man is a prevaricator, that's all."
Those sharks who sell furniture must have some connection with fishermen, to judge from the thundering big lies they tell.
Now, I am fond of going fishing myself.
Perhaps I take a deeper interest in the whooping big yarns spun around the blazing camp fire by a set of jolly sportsmen than in the taking of mighty strings of fish.
Still, I delight to lure the festive trout out of the wet.