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Show BYRON WILLIAMS M '. .Vj "MAN is an ab-p ab-p VJ.jnY '?Jn sent njinded beg-t beg-t ' -cS?i4s5' J sar." remarked eigai r a:'.d beaming 'vf--f'''if '!.! l.'.'t'i's lables "''' nas said." re- ygWal " the cynic, llfsSBGL& "Couple this," f 1 f jS-STl continues Skinkle, 7 n aSTfl 'Snoring the sally, v4 l!j5!h ' "with the easy-' easy-' L tdrWA mark streak that v rfc 's In all of us, vLH .'1 makes the aver I t age individual ' 1 good picking foi I the light-fingered ' ( gentry." - For instance?" . j queried Fox. draw- ing him on. li- "I see you ar sceptical," laughej Skinkle, confident ly. Til prove it Do you see thai I J fellow in the writ ing-room yonder; Well, he has hh hat beside him on the desk and hii overcoat is hanging on the back oi the chair on which he sits. To provt my statement. I will exchange hall with-liim and take his overcoat." "For the cigars?" tempted Campbell "Yes, for the cigars." Skinkle got up from the table, sauntered saun-tered over to the unconscious victim and taking a chair next, placed his hat alongside that of the man whc was to be robbed. The fellow kept on with his writing, Skinkle made a few false moves at the desk, took the hat nearest the stranger, strang-er, put it on his head and arose. "I beg your pardon, sir," he said, grasping the man's overcoat by the collar and giving it a slight pull. The gentleman glanced about, murmured mur-mured an apology and slid forward in his chair off the tail of the coat on which he had been sitting. Then he plunged into his work once more. Skinkle walked out of the writing-room, writing-room, left the hotel by the front door and re-entering the cafe, returned to the group at the table. "Well, what do you know about that?" gasped Campbell. The cynic merely sniffed. "Say," said Skinkle to the cynic, "you think you are so superior, I'll tell you what I'll do. On your finger you have a beautiful diamond ring " The cynic grunted. "I'll bet you a box of Herr Lobi's Heretus that I have that ring off your finger and in my pocket inside of fifteen fif-teen minutes." The cynic snorted. "Let me take your hand a minute," requested Skinkle. The cynic hesitated. "Oh, let me take it a minute: I am not going to slip the ring off your finger! " The cynic yielded. "That certainly is a beautiful ring," admiringly. "Oh er, 1 beg your pardon." par-don." bumping against the cynic as a waiter crowded past. "Look!" cried Fox. excitedly, "that fellow is going away without his overcoat." over-coat." Skinkle called a waiter. "Tell the gentleman," indicating, "to come over here a minute." The man came over, wondering)!'. "Here ,is your overcoat, sir." said Skinkle, rising and handing ii (o The fellow looked at it incredulously. incredulous-ly. Then he burst out: "Was that MY overcoat you took off the back of my chair?" "It was," replied Skinkle. "I was merely proving to my friends here how absent-minded most men are. Have a cirgar. sir and I hope you will pardon me for the liberty, but I had to have some victim, and you looked good-natured." Til prove it by buying." said the new comer, signaling a waiter. As the party arose to go, Skinkle called to the cynic: "What time is it?" The cynic reached for his watch. "Here it is," intercepted Skinkle, handing it to Campbell. "Kindly pass it back to the gentleman." The cynic joined in the laugh. "And here's your pocket book," continued con-tinued Skinkle. "Kindly pass (hat back to the gentleman, also." "Let's go out and get that box of cigars," grinned the cynic. "You win ! Cheerful Dots. Parties at which the guests answer the question. "Why I got married?" are much in vogue. It is always so interesting in-teresting to hear tin- married people peo-ple try to find some excuse? Technically speaking, it wouldn't be half as much fun to be rolling in wealth as rolling in a clover bed. Every man who takes your measure does not make you a suit of clothes. Get your muck rake down. The frost is almost out of the ground! Many a man's failure can be traced to his wife's desire for success. BYRON WILLIAMS. |