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The ferret-eyed little man stepped
across the street car aisle and whis
pered into the ear of the tall chap in
a gray suit:
"You'd better wipe that bit of egg
off your chin. The income-tax man
is just two seats in front of you."
"My boy has the whooping cough."
"That must worry you."
"WelL maybe It's all for the best
When he's whooping he can't ask
questions and I get time to read up
on the inquiries he has already
made." Washington Star.
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