Part 46 (2/2)

Prisoner--”I am, sir.”

Judge--”But your face looks decidedly familiar. Where have I seen it before?”

Prisoner--”I'm the bartender in the saloon across the way, sir.”

Henry Guy Carleton, wit, journalist, and playwright, has an impediment in his speech about which he is not in the least sensitive. Meeting Nat Goodwin one day he asked:

”G-g-goodwin, c-c-an you g-g-give m-m-me f-f-fifteen m-m-minutes?”

”Certainly,” replied the comedian, ”what is it?”

”I w-w-want to have f-f-five m-m-minutes' c-c-conversation with you.”

A German pedler rapped timidly at the kitchen entrance. Mrs. Kelly, angry at being interrupted in her was.h.i.+ng, flung open the door and glowered at him.

”Did yez wish to see me?” she demanded in threatening tones.

The pedler backed off a few steps.

”Vell, if I did,” he a.s.sured her with an apologetic grin, ”I got my vish, thank you.”

A lady from South America possessed of a decidedly quick temper came to New York with a very incomplete knowledge of the English language.

At her hotel she rang for the chambermaid. But a waiter came instead.

Having ascertained that the name of the chambermaid was Susan, the lady marshaled her meager knowledge of English in a desperate effort to make the waiter understand that he should call the chambermaid.

What she said to him, however, was:

”Call me Susan!”

The waiter leaned against the wall much alarmed.

”Call me Susan!” shouted the South American.

The waiter became appalled.

”Call me Susan!” roared the lady, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng furiously.

”Susan, then--if you will have it!” exclaimed the poor waiter. Then he fled precipitately.

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