habited country, where the post-office clerk popped his head into the carriage window and handed in a telegram.
To the Zankiwank.
Don’t wait tea. Gone to the Dentists.”
“Extremely thoughtful,” exclaimed everybody. But the Zankiwank wept, and explained to the sympathetic Maude that he was engaged to be married to the Bletherwitch, and he had been waiting for her for fourteen years. “Such a charming creature. I will introduce you when she comes. Fancy, she is only two feet one inch and one third high, Such a suitable height for a bride.”
“What,” expostulated Willie and Maude together, “she’s no bigger than our baby! And you are quite——”
“Eight feet and one half of an inch.”
“How disproportionate! It seems to me to be a most unequal match,” answered Maude. “What does her mother say?”