James McNeill Whistler and a friend, strolling through a London suburb, met a small boy. Whistler asked him his age.
“Seven,” the boy replied.
“Oh, you must be more than seven,” said Whistler doubtingly.
“Seven,” insisted the boy, rather pleased at being taken for older.
Turning to his friend, Whistler said, “Do you think it possible that he really could have got as dirty as that in only seven years?”
Answers for our Artist.—“Biddy Maloney, just you look at that clock! Didn’t I tell you last night to knock at my door at eight this morning?”
“An’ so ye did, sir, and I came to the door at eight sure enough, but I heard ye was making no noise at all!”
“Well, why the dickens didn’t you knock, and wake me?”
“Sure, and because I feared yez might be fast asleep!”