There have been some occasions when I've felt myself as though I would like to pluck my hair out, though it is generally on account of some stupidity on my part.
And if you don't mind I will tell you right here, how.
I put my foot in it the other night.
I was so provoked at my stupidity that I came near retiring to a nunnery, or taking a solemn vow not to speak a single word for a week.
Now, I haven't an unusually large mouth, and yet when I related my unfortunate break to Charlie Parsons, the cashier of our bank, he was cruel enough to hint that perhaps some people never could open their mouth without putting their foot in it.
I call that decidedly uncharitable, don't you?
But about this stupid remark of mine.
It was a big reception you know, a mixed company, where one was apt to meet any sort of an old star.