A Subtle Distinction
“I say—come and dance. This is a toppin’ fox-trot they’re playin’.”
“Thanks—but I’m only waltzing this evening. We’re still in mourning, you know.”
Specialist (to patient suffering from insomnia): “And did you try my plan of counting sheep coming through a gate?”
Patient: “Well, I counted up to a hundred and twenty thousand and thirty-nine, and then it was time to get up.”
Neighbor (bearer of message, to billiard enthusiast): “You’re wanted at ’ome, Charlie. Yer wife’s just presented yer with another rebate off yer income-tax.”
Joan (whose mother has just bought her a pair of woolen gloves): “Oh, Mummy, I wish you had got kid. I hate this kind; they make my sweets so hairy.”
Lady (to applicant for situation as cook): “Have you been accustomed to have a kitchen-maid under you?”
Cook: “In these days we never speak of having people ‘under us.’ But I have had colleagues.”
Father: “Look here, Billy, Mr. Smith called at the office this morning about your fight with his boy yesterday.”
Son: “Did he? I hope you got on as well as I did.”
Artist (condescendingly): “I did this last summer. It really isn’t much good.”
Candid Friend: “No, it certainly isn’t. But who told you?”