"Well! well!" exclaimed Mrs. Talker, looking up from the morning paper. "Boots and shoes should be getting much cheaper now. Here's a paragraph that states that they are being made from all sorts of skins, even rat skins"; and then, trying to be funny, she added, "I wonder what they do with banana and orange skins?"
"Oh, my dear," replied her husband, "they make slippers!"
The usual large crowd was gathered at the New York end of the Brooklyn Bridge waiting for trolley-cars. An elderly lady, red in the face, flustered and fussy, dug her elbows into convenient ribs irrespective of owners.
A fat man on her left was the recipient of a particularly vicious jab. She yelled at him, "Say!"
He winced slightly and moved to one side.
She, too, sidestepped and thumped him vigorously on the back.
"Say!" she persisted, "does it make any difference which of these cars I take to Greenwood Cemetery?"
"Not to me, madam," he answered, slipping through an opening in the crowd.