"How do you do?" I greeted him. "Many happy returns, dear old thing!" As he held out his hand I put something into it. "A box of chocolates," I explained; "I bought them for your birthday!"
"Wanted, for Low Comedian, really Funny Sons."—The Stage.
As a change, we suppose, from the eternal mother-in-law.
Inveterate Golfer (stung by the leading article). "I SUPPOSE I AM REALLY NON-ESSENTIAL. IT'S HARD TO REALISE THIS WITH ONE'S HANDICAP JUST REDUCED TO SEVEN."