“Look a’ here, young chap,” she said, as she put down her basket, “if it’s a row you want you’ll find me ready. I allow no one to walk on me.”
“But, ma’am, I left——”
“Come on, then,” she said, as she stood up and doubled up her fists. “I am a peaceful woman, and I want to get along the easiest way, but if I must I will.”
Everybody began to clap and laugh, and the smart Aleck took a drop off the platform without asking what it was all about.
Mike’s Dilemma.
Mike is an Irishman just fresh from the Emerald isle, who recently came to Hackensack, N. J., and was employed by two gentlemen, each keeping a horse in the same stable, to look after their equines. One day Mr. Jones told Mike to hitch up his horse and bring it around to his residence.
Mike did as he was bidden, but when Mr. Jones saw the turnout he said: “Why, Mike, that is not my horse, that is Mr. Smith’s animal.”
“Begorra,” promptly replied Mike, “so it is. I knowed that wasn’t your horse, sir, but I couldn’t quite make up my mind which horse belonged to the other gintleman.”
A Rank Failure.
“I don’t believe whippings do children any good,” said Mrs. Wiggins. “Why, I whipped Johnny at the photographer’s three times because he wouldn’t look pleasant and he still looked as cross and disagreeable as ever.”