_Father_ (_pocketing coin_). Thank you; and now we may say, adieu!

_Son_. But how about dinner--am I not to dine with you?

_Father_. Dine with me! What an idea! Why should you?

_Son_. Because I am your Son.

_Father_. You mean someone infinitely more important--my Lodger.

_Son_. And you absolutely refuse me food?

_Father_. Not I, my boy; not I! It is the law! If I was to give you
what you ask, you and I would be had up for bribery.

_Son_. Then you prefer patriotism to paternal affection?

_Father_. Well, to be candid with you, I do! It is distinctly cheaper!

* * * * *

MUSCOVITE VERSION OF A MUSIC-HALL CHORUS.

HIRSCH! HIRSCH! HIRSCH!
Here comes the Bogie Man!
He wants to help the Hebrews; he'll catch them if he can.
HIRSCH! HIRSCH! HIRSCH!
He's hit upon a plan,
And all the persecutors cry, "Here comes the Bogie Man!"