“He did that, mum.”
“And did he look as if he were quite content with things about him?”
“He was all that, mum.”
“Well,” said the lady, “it seems strange that he should only think of that dress suit now, because it’s ten years since he’s dead and buried, and I’ve often wondered how he’s been getting on.”
Two friends were walking down Bond Street, London. A man came up and saluted the elder: “How do you do, Lord ——?”
“Ah! how-do? Glad to see you. How’s the old complaint?”
The stranger’s face clouded over and he shook his head. “No better.”
“Dear me; so sorry. Glad to have met you. Good-by.”
“Who’s your friend?” asked the other, when the stranger was gone.