In these days of difficulty in securing domestic servants, mistresses will accept almost any sort of help, but there are limits. A woman interrogated a husky girl in an employment office, who was a recent importation from Lapland. The dialogue was as follows:
“Can you do fancy cooking?”
“Can you do plain cooking?”
“Can you sew?”
“Can you do general housework?”
“Make the beds, wash the dishes?”
“Well,” cried the woman in puzzled exasperation, “what can you do?”
“I milk reindeer.”
* * *
The undertaker regarded the deceased in the coffin with severe disapproval, for the wig persisted in slipping back and revealing a perfectly bald pate. He addressed the widow in that cheerfully melancholy tone which is characteristic of undertakers during their professional public performance.
“Have you any glue?”
The widow wiped her eyes perfunctorily, and said that she had.
“Shall I heat it?” she asked. The undertaker nodded gloomily, and the relic departed on her errand. Presently, she returned with the glue-pot.
But the undertaker shook his head, and regarded her with the gently sad smile to which undertakers are addicted, as he whispered solemnly:
“I found a tack.”
* * *
An engineer, who was engaged on railroad construction in Central America, explained to one of the natives living alongside the right of way the advantages that would come from realization of the projected line. To illustrate his point, he put the question:
“How long does it take you to carry your produce to market by muleback?”
“Three days, señor,” was the answer.
“Then,” said the engineer, “you can understand the benefit the road will be to you. You will be able to take your produce to market, and to return home on the same day.”
“Very good, señor,” the native agreed courteously.
“But, señor, what shall we do with the other two days?”