SHORT STORIES.

Digger (Invercargill RSA), Issue 6, 23 April 1920, Page 15

SHORT STORIES.

TROUBLE AND SQUEAK. In these go-ahead times people are apt to sneer at old-fashioned methods but a better method than slipping under the seat when one lias lost one's railway ticket has yet to be devised.,And thatwas the course that William Brown, who found hiinself in this plight, took. At the moment the ticket-collector arrived, however, the concealed man gave vent to an extraordinary sound — a sort of compound of a gToan, a bellow, and a shriek — -was, of course, detected, and made to pay full fare, "Well, Bob," he explained, in reply to his companion's lieated demand to know why he had made such an egregious ass of himself, "ye see, just as the ticket chap came, I had a shocking cramp, and I just had to wriggle. I was afraid he'd see me. 'But he'll think 'tis a mouse,' says I to myself, 'If I squeak.' So I squea-ked. Mr X., a prominent lawyer, was much addicted to the habit of lecturing his clerks, the office-boy coming in for an unusual share of admonition whenever occasion called for it, and sometimes when it did not. That* his words were appreciated was made quite evident to Mr X, one day when a conversation between his and another office-boy on the same floor was repeated to him. "W&tcher wages?" asked the other boy. "I get two thousand pounds a year," said Mr ,X.'s lad. "I don't think!" ejaculated the other boy derisively. "Honest I do," said Tomray — "fifteen bob a week in cash, and the rest in legal advice!"

The village grocer had been drumming into his new apprentice his views on the virtue of economy, until the boy had had rather enought of it. At last a fly gettled on the sogar, and the grocer deftlv caught it, and threw it away. "Wasn't that rather wasteful, sir?" ir.quired the boy meekly. "You threw that fly away without brushing the sngar off it." Tommy was spending his holidays with his little friend. At bedtime it was discovered that he had forgotten to bring his pyjamas. "Never mind, Tommy, I will lend you one of Freddy's nightgowns," said Freddy's mother. "I won't sleep in it," said Tommy. "Oh yes, dear, I am sure you will." "No," said Tommy, "before I sleep in a nightgown I'll go to bed raw." The teacher was giving a lesson on physiolcgy. "Who can tell me what your" spinal column is?" said she at last. There was silence for a moment; then a sniall hand waved in the air. "Wjell, tell me, Tommy" said the teacher. Tommy answered, "Please, ma'am, my spinal column is a little thing that runs up and down me back ; me head sits on one end and I sit on the other." They were two kind-hearted Irishmen who sat beside an old log eabin. Mike, sitting on an old "box, looked very sad, whilst Pat, over opposite, was crying piteously. After a dreadful silence Mike spoke up. "And what are ye crying for, Pat?" After a pause came the reply : "Poor old Barney's sent me his pliotograph and every time I look at it it makes me think of all the dear ould faces I used to shake hands with." An Irishman more patriotic than elever, enlisted in a Dragoon regiment,_ with the intention of becoming a gallant soldier. The fencing instructor had experienced rather a difficult job in the matter of explaining to hirn the various ways of uging the swmrd. "Now,' he said, "how would you use the sword if your opponent feinted?" "Bedad !" said Pat, with gleaming eyes, "I'd just tickle him with the point to see if he was shamming!" The nurse on duty in a hospital was giving the little ones their last meal for the day. All save one were patiently awaiting their turn to be served ; the one in question heing a rosy-cheeked convalescent who was lustily calling for her portion. The nurse was a Cockney who had not yet become quite sure of her aspirates, "Haren't you a little himpatient, Florence?" inquired the nurse, with just a tone of correction in her voice. ; "No, I'm not!" returned Florence, promptly. "I'm a little her patient]"