When we got to Paris I explained to George that I had not meant to hurt his feelings; there was no fellow I would more gladly entrust my odd jobs to. Indeed Geraldine and I should want him to officiate in a similar capacity at the coming ceremony.
A very satisfactory conclusion. I got Geraldine; Geraldine got her full deserts—me; and if George had the misfortune to sit on the bag in the taxi, what matter? Geraldine had acquiesced; after that who cared what Geraldine's mother did, said, thought or wore?
Small Boy. "Who's that fat man, Dad?"
Dad. "Don't know. He looks like a profiteer."
Small Boy. "Don't you think he must be one of the excess profiteers?"
"Lady Clerk wanted for office work, with an engineering firm, a few miles out of Leeds; also able to cook and serve a luncheon for the principals."—Yorkshire Paper.
If you want a cook nowadays you must employ a little diplomacy.