* * * * *

"SMALL ADS."

"Where do you get servants from?" I asked.

"From small ads.," said Phyllis promptly.

I picked up the paper from the floor where I had thrown it in the morning.
My wife is one of those rare women who always leave things where you put
them. It is this trait that endears her to me. I ran my trained eye over an
ad. column.

"Got it at once," I said with pardonable pride. "How's this?--'General
(genuine), stand any test trd. £70 possess. s. hands yrs. s.a.v.'"

"I like genuine people," said Phyllis thoughtfully. "And under the
circumstances"--(here she looked hard at me, as if I were a circumstance)--
"under the circumstances I think we ought to have one that will stand any
test. Seventy pounds is out of the question, of course, but she might come
for less when she sees how small we are. What does 's. hands yrs.' stand
for?"

"I don't know," I said; "I can only think of 'soft hands for years.'"

"I should like her," said Phyllis. "Their hands are the one thing against
Generals. She must be a nice girl to take such care of them. Think how
careful she'd be with the china. What's 'trd.'?"