§ 262 Out of Business Hours
To realize what the antiquity of this one is you first must look up the date of General Tom Thumb’s death and then hark still farther back to the yet more remote period when that little man was at the height of his fame.
Under the management of P. T. Barnum, the most famous of all our dwarfs was touring the country. Between engagements he stopped over Sunday at a country hotel in New England.
A lady of the neighborhood called and sent up her card with the request that she be permitted to meet the General. The message was received by a member of Barnum’s staff, who happened at the moment to be in the General’s room. This person, who was six feet tall and broad in proportion, and also something of a wit, asked that the lady be shown up.
Presently she knocked at the door and he answered it.
“I am looking,” she said, “for General Tom Thumb.”
“Madam,” he said, “proceed to look.”
“Surely you are not the celebrated midget?” she cried.
“Certainly I am,” he answered. “But just at the present moment, Madam, I happen to be resting.”