Henry Guy Carleton, wit, journalist, and playwright, has an impediment in his speech about which he is not in the least sensitive. Meeting Nat Goodwin one day he asked:
“G-g-goodwin, c-c-an you g-g-give m-m-me f-f-fifteen m-m-minutes?”
“Certainly,” replied the comedian, “what is it?”
“I w-w-want to have f-f-five m-m-minutes’ c-c-conversation with you.”
A German pedler rapped timidly at the kitchen entrance. Mrs. Kelly, angry at being interrupted in her washing, flung open the door and glowered at him.
“Did yez wish to see me?” she demanded in threatening tones.
The pedler backed off a few steps.
“Vell, if I did,” he assured her with an apologetic grin, “I got my vish, thank you.”