O FLATTERY, THY NAME IS FRENCHWOMAN!
John Henry Jones thinks he will do a little bit of marketing for himself, and asks the price of tomatoes. With a killing glance and a winning smile, the vendor replies that for him they will be a franc apiece, but that he mustn't mention it. The modest J. H. J. blushes, and buys, in spite of some misgiving that for anybody else they would be about sixpence a dozen.
OUR COMPATRIOTS ABROAD
Scene—A Table d'hôte