“It do not look like a Pole in appearance,” I otter. “To Japanese Schoolboy it look more like a penitentiary for white rabbits.”
“So wicked thought!” say Hon. Police with buttons. “That tiny house to which you now look at are Palladium of American Liberty.”
“What do Americans do in such a Palladium?” are next question for me.
“They votes for Presidents,” ollicute Hon. Smutz with helmet.
“So happy!” I say-it. “In them tiny doll-cabins Presidents is manufactured by ballet-box every 4 years! Were Pres. Roosevelt made in a little tin cottage like that?”
“Absolutely similar,” snuggest that coply man.
“I are surprised he did not burst it!” are notation for me.
Silences by Hon. Police. Waggish signals by O-Fido.
“How could Hon. Taft be accommodated in such a toy temple?” are intelligent query I make.