"Why," says I, "how did you manage it?"
"Oh!" says he, "that was dead easy. I just married her."
Did you ever strike one of those people who are dead stuck on their lineage and have charts tacked on their bedroom door, showing how many thousand years they can trace their ancestors?
I struck a "she" specimen the other day.
As soon as we were introduced, she says: "Jones, Jones, surely you are a descendant of the famous family of Joneses, who had their origin in the stone age and lived in a cave on the Palisades, about a mile from Hoboken?"
"I can't remember," says I, "it's so long ago and I have a poor memory."
"Yes, but let us come nearer to the present generation," says she. "You surely are a relative of the Joneses, the Milwaukee millionaires of the same name."