"Well, I can't see how that is going to keep her feet from troubling me."
"Her cold feet from troubling you!" repeated Yeast, a little confused. "What do you mean?"
"Mean? Why, I mean that my wife's cold feet are the ones that chill me with an Arctic region touch. Whose feet did you suppose I meant, my mother-in-law's?" shouted the excited Crimsonbeak, darting into his gate and leaving his neighbor to his own reflections.
Changed Relations.
"Now that we are engaged," said Miss Pottleworth, "come and let me introduce you to papa."
"I believe that I have met him," replied young Spickle.
"But in another capacity than that of son-in-law."
"Yes—er, but I'd rather not meet him to-night."
"Oh, you must," and despite the almost violent struggles of the young fellow, he was drawn into the library, where a large, red-faced man, with a squint in one eye, and an enlargement of the nose, sat looking over a lot of papers.