“I quite agree with you, madam,” said Mr. Harte, “but you have put the little breeches on the wrong man.”
Mr. Knox, the Secretary of State in Taft’s Cabinet, was formerly engaged in the practise of law in Pittsburg.
One day, says a friend, Mr. Knox was much put out to find on his arrival at his office that everything was topsy-turvy and that the temperature of his rooms was much too low for comfort. Summoning his office-boy, a lad but recently entered his employ, the lawyer asked who had raised every window in the place on such a cold morning.
“Mr. Muldoon, sir,” was the answer.
“Who is Mr. Muldoon?” asked the attorney.
“The janitor, sir.”
“Who carried off my waste-basket?” was the next question.
“Mr. Reilly, sir.”
“And who is Mr. Reilly?”