“General,” he said as he stepped into the teenie weenie library and closed the door softly, “I’d like to speak to you for a few minutes.”
“Go right ahead, Doc,” said the General, throwing aside his work.
“It’s about the Scotchman,” said the Doctor, dropping into a teenie weenie rocking chair. “Scotty was troubled with rheumatism in his legs last winter, and the pain has started again this fall.”
“It’s all on account of his wearing those short kilt skirts, and going around in his bare knees,” cried the General anxiously.
“Yes, I know it is,” answered the Doctor. “I’ve tried to get him to wear trousers during the winter weather, but he will not do it. So, he’s got to go south to spend the winter, where there’s no cold weather, or he’ll be sick.”
“How in the world will he ever get down south?” asked the General.
“Oh, I’ve fixed that up all right,” said the Doctor. “You know our friends, the birds, always go south for the winter?”
“Yes,” nodded the General.