"Rather pretty, but I don't like this side without diamonds. Honestly, the thing looks skimpy—decidedly skimpy!"

   For $7,000 additional, the objectional skimpiness was corrected.

   The burly man spoke lucidly to his gangling adversary:

   "You're a nincompoop, a liar and hoss-thief."

   The other man protested, with a whine in his voice:

   "Sech talk ain't nice—and, anyhow, 'tain't fair twittin' on facts."

   After years of endeavor in poverty, the inventor made a success, and came running home with pockets bulging real money. He joyously strewed thousand-dollar bills in his wife's lap, crying:

   "Now, at last, my dear, you will be able to buy you some decent clothes."

   "I'll do nothing of the kind," was the sharp retort. "I'll get the same kind the other women are wearing."

   *    *    *

   At the village store, the young farmer complained bitterly.

   "Old Si Durfee wants me to be one of the pall-bearers once more at his wife's funeral. An' it's like this. Si had me fer pall-bearer when his first wife was buried. An' then agin fer his second. An' when Eliza died, she as was his third, he up an' axed me agin. An' now, I snum, it's the fourth time. An' ye know, a feller can't be the hull time a-takin' favors, an' not payin' 'em back."

   The boy hurried home to his father with an announcement:

   "Me and Joe Peck had a fight to-day."

   The father nodded gravely.

   "Mr. Peck has already called to see me about it."

   The little boy's face brightened.

   "Gee, pop! I hope you made out 's well 's I did!"

   A very black little girl made her way into the presence of the lady of the house, and with much embarrassment, but very clearly, explained who she was, and what her mission:

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