Host (to friend who feels faint.) "Now, what you want is a good stiff glass of"—(suddenly remembering the Budget)—"soda!"
THE TAKING OF TIMOTHY.
Tea was over, a clearing was made of the articles of more fragile virtue, and Timothy, entering in state, was off-loaded from his nurse's arms into his mother's.
"Isn't he looking sweet to-day?" said Suzanne. "It's really time we had him photographed."
"Why?" I asked.
"Well, why do people as a rule get photographed?"
"That," I said, "is a question I have often asked myself, but without finding a satisfactory answer. What do you propose to do with the copies?"
"There are dozens of people who'll be only too glad to have them. Aunt Caroline, for instance——"