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by Unknown

“We air well,” they solumly sed.

“Where is the old man?” said I, in a soft voice.

“Of whom dost thou speak—Brother Uriah?”

“I mean that gay and festive cuss who calls me a man of sin. Shouldn’t wonder if his name wasn’t Uriah.”

“He has retired.”

“Wall, my pretty dears,” sez I, “let’s have some fun. Let’s play puss in the corner. What say?”

“Air you a [♦]Shaker, sir?” they asked.

[♦] ‘Skaker’ replaced with ‘Shaker’

“Wall, my pretty dears, I haven’t arrayed my proud form in a long weskit yet, but if they wus all like you perhaps I’d jine ’em. As it is, I am willing to be Shaker protemporary.”

They was full of fun. I seed that at fust, only they was a little skeery. I tawt ’em puss in the corner, and sich like plase, and we had a nice time, keepin’ quiet of course, so that the old man shouldn’t hear. When we broke up, sez I: