Tom: A centipede with the chilblains. Dick: I wish you’d behave! I was going by your house yesterday, and I saw your sister looking out of the window; but I didn’t see any of the rest of the family— Tom: Well, sister is the only one that’s working, and she looks out for us all. Dick: Behave! Behave! Is your sister a blonde? Tom: No, but she’s dyeing to be one. (Slaps himself on the wrist.) Behave! how dare you! Dick: Say, are you going to listen to me? Tom: Certainly. Dick: Well, in the first act the villain comes on and strikes the heroine— Tom: For ten cents to buy an automobile. Dick: Yes, for ten cents to buy an auto—no, no, he strikes her— Tom: Why, he must belong to the union, then? Dick: Certainly, he does—no, he doesn’t either. The idea! Tom: If two peaches make a date, and two dates make a pair, what do apples make? Dick: Why, apples make cider, of course. Tom: And Pears make soap, is it? Dick: Is it! You talk like a cake of yeast. Tom: Sure. You see I always rise when I talk. Ha, Ha! Dick: What are you laughing at? Tom: That joke. I thought of it so quick. It must be quick-rising yeast, are they? Dick: Are they! There you go again. Tom: Did you hear about it? Dick: Hear about what? Tom: My sister eloped yesterday. Dick: Is that so? Tom: Yes, a horse ran away with her. Dick: O, behave! That reminds me. When are you going to get married? Tom: Hush! Can you keep a secret? Dick: Sure. Tom: I’m married. Dick: Why, that’s news to me. How long have you been married? Tom: Six months. Dick: Six months, eh? And I suppose you think your wife is an angel? Tom: No, not quite—but I have hopes. Dick: O, behave! You know in the first act— Tom: You know when I asked my wife’s father to marry his daughter, I said: “I love your daughter and I can’t live without her.” Dick: Very noble of you. And what did the old gentleman say? Tom: He says: “Take her, young man; I can’t live with her.” Dick: Ha, ha! And you took her? Tom: I did. I took her for better or worse, and got the worst of it. Dick: Too bad! But who gave the bride away? Tom: Her little brother. Dick: Her little brother? I never heard of such a thing. The father usually gives the bride away. Tom: The old man never said a word. It was her little angel-faced brother. He told everybody that she had a cork leg. It was an awful case of give away. Dick: Then I suppose you took a bridal tour? Tom: No; I felt more like taking an ax to her. Dick: Why, that, wouldn’t be very nice—to take an ax to her. Tom: I would, only she began to sing “O, Woodman, Spare that Tree.” Dick: O, behave! Tom: You know my wife used to be a “summer girl.” Dick: And what is a “summer girl?” Tom: A “summer girl” is a rack to stretch shirt-waists on; inside is a compartment for lobster salad, chop suey and ice cream; while outside is an attachment for diamond rings. Dick: A very good definition, my boy. I suppose you hung a diamond ring on the outside?