In a few days the youngster again disappeared. His mother was firm in her resolve and no search was made. Great was poor Johnnie’s disappointment. He managed to stay away all day, but when it began to grow dark his courage failed and he started for home. He sneaked ignominiously into the kitchen. Nobody spoke to him. Apparently his absence had not been noticed. This was too much. As soon as opportunity offered he remarked casually, “Well, I see you’ve got the same old cat.”
A gentleman who happened to come in rather late at a dinner found that the guests had finished soup and were on with the next course. When he had sat down a waiter came up and said, “Soup, sir?” “No, thanks,” he replied, whereupon the waiter went away. Another waiter, seeing he had nothing, said to him, “Soup, sir?” He replied rather testily, “No, thank you.” A third waiter, who saw him come in and took compassion on him, placed the soup in front of him. “Look here, my man, is this compulsory?” “No, sir; it’s mulligatawny,” replied the waiter.
A big, burly, fierce-looking man and a meek, inoffensive-looking little chap were sawing timber with a cross-cut saw. A strapping Irishman, passing that way, stopped to watch them. Back and forth, back and forth, they pulled at the saw. Finally the Irishman could stand it no longer. With a whoop and a yell he rushed at the big man and brought him to the ground, burying his knees deep into the sawyer’s chest.
Biff! Bang! Thump! Biff!
“There,” he said, letting him have one parting blow square on the nose, “now m’bbe ye’ll let the little felly hev it!”
Oliver Herford once entered a doubtful-looking restaurant in a small New York town and ordered a lamb-chop. After a long delay the waiter returned, bearing a plate on which reposed a dab of mashed potatoes and a much overdone chop of microscopical proportions with a remarkably long and slender rib attached. This the waiter set down before him and then hurried away.
“See here,” called Herford, “I ordered a chop.”