Troubles of the New-Poor

“George, will you go and speak to cook? I bought some tripe for dinner and—she’s still looking at it through her lorgnette.”

“I hear you’ve taken up golf. What do you go round in?”

“Well, usually in a sweater.”

Small Boy (walking round links with his father): “Daddy, here’s a ball for you.”

Father: “Where did you get that from?”

Small Boy: “It’s a lost ball, Daddy.”

Father: “Are you sure it’s a lost ball?”

Small Boy: “Yes, Daddy; they’re still looking for it.”

Small Boy (toying with dull blanc-mange): “Please may I have an ice instead of finishing this—’cos I feel sick?”