IX WASHING WINDOWS
To Editor Woman’s Page whose mind is glass which shoots daylight into Subjects.
Dear Sir:—
Until quite recently of yore I remained in the suburbs of Pennsylvania at home of Mrs Nero Fits Gibb, where I stayed as long as I did.
It was because of windows that I was exploded off from that lovely situation of employment. Next job of work I shall hitch myself to some house which do not contain any of those glass encumbents.
I tell you this narrative.
That Hon. Mrs Fits Gibb reside in one large mahogany house containing sifficient windows to see everything through. Bay windows occur at moments when least expected; skylights peep from roof with expression peculiar to pair of spectacles. That house has got windows all over its face from its chin to its forehead, and every door are confused by glass stained brightly to resemble colours.
“Togo,” explan Hon. Mrs to me, “I are very fond of fresh daylight.”
“You have caged nearly all there is,” I corrode for politeness while gazing at 13 doz. windows surrounding.