O. Henry always retained the whimsical sense of humor which made him quickly famous. Shortly before his death he called on the cashier of a New York publishing house, after vainly writing several times for a check which had been promised as an advance on his royalties.
"I'm sorry," explained the cashier, "but Mr. Blank, who signs the checks, is laid up with a sprained ankle."
"But, my dear sir," expostulated the author, "does he sign them with his feet?"
Strolling along the boardwalk at Atlantic City, Mr. Mulligan, the wealthy retired contractor, dropped a quarter through a crack in the planking. A friend came along a minute later and found him squatted down, industriously poking a two dollar bill through the treacherous cranny with his forefinger.
"Mulligan, what the divvil ar-re ye doin'?" inquired the friend.
"Sh-h," said Mr. Mulligan, "I'm tryin' to make it wort' me while to tear up this board."
A captain, inspecting his company one morning, came to an Irishman who evidently had not shaved for several days.
"Doyle," he asked, "how is it that you haven't shaved this morning?"