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Show Too Bad, Indeed. Mrs. Commuter had lain awake wdth a headache till one o'clock.' Then in the balance of the night she had responded re-sponded to several calls for a drink, a doll, and all the other nocturnal infantile infan-tile orders. At five in the morning, a9 she was just beginning to round out the first continuous hour of slumber, the little six-year-old girl called softly 1 from her nearby crib : "Mother." ' ' No answer. Again, a little louder: "Mother !" Mother said nothing. Again the child's voice, tins time mezzo-forte: "Mother !" "Well, what is it?" "Mother, isn't it too bad that one of Harry McCoIe's polliwogs died?" |