From the other side of the door came the voice of a strange man—a dignified and an austere voice:
“Madam, this is not a beehive; it is a bathroom.”
§ 321 A Mystery Revealed
This yarn, which is of English origin, requires quite a bit of stage-setting. We are expected to imagine a village green in the morning. The official village drunkard is revealed in the foreground. It is evident that he has had a hard night. He leans against the village pump, pressing his throbbing temples to the cool iron work. Ambling up to him with a smile of gratification on his chubby cheeks, comes the curate of the parish.
“Good morning, Walker,” says the curate briskly.
“Mornin’,” says Walker, opening one eye wanly but not shifting his position.
“Walker,” continues the curate, “I want to tell you that I was most pleased—although, I must confess, a bit surprised as well—to see you among those present at vesper services last evening.”
“Ow,” says Walker; “so that’s where I was, was I?”
§ 322 It Very Often Proves Fatal
A literal and simple-minded man, by birth a German, sent his wife to the hospital for an operation. The operation was performed in the forenoon. In the afternoon, when he quit work, the husband called to inquire how the patient had stood the ordeal. The nurse told him that she seemed to be improving.