"But what of it? You had no business to lend that lawn mower, Mr. Bowser. You'll never get over your countrified ways if you live——"
He would listen no further. He rushed out and sailed around the neighborhood for two hours, and next morning got the police at work, and it was three days before he would give up that he had been "hornswagled," as one of the detectives put it. Then, to add to his misery, the officer said:
"We'll keep our eyes open, but there isn't one chance in 500. After this you'd better let your wife have charge of things. That negro couldn't have bamboozed her that way."
—Detroit Free Press.
(With the respectful compliments of Plunder.)
Susie—Why don't you get married, Kittie?
Kittie—Well, I should like to—that's a fact. But, unfortunately, I'm not yet able to support a husband.
H.