“I don’t believe anybody will have you,” said Miss Mabel, the landlord’s daughter, teasingly.
“Yes, they will; I’ll make ’em,” said Winnie. “I’m going to get married and have five children—two of ’em colored,” thoughtfully, “to do my work.”
A reverend gentleman was addressing a Sunday-school class not long ago, and was trying to enforce the doctrine that when people’s hearts were sinful they needed regulating. Taking out his watch, and holding it up, he said:
“Now, here is my watch; suppose it doesn’t keep good time—now goes too fast, and now too slow—what shall I do with it?”
“Sell it,” promptly replied a boy.
The high-born dame was breaking in a new footman—stupid but honest.
In her brougham, about to make a round of visits, she found she had forgotten her bits of pasteboard. So she sent the lout back with orders to bring some of her cards that were on the mantelpiece in her boudoir, and put them in his pocket.