"Oh, Georgie, do you think it fits? (Yes, madam, positively, the car
was brushed this morning, your baby will be perfectly safe inside.)"

"Mame."

"George! (Step forward, please.) Go on, dear."

"Mame, it's doggon hard to talk to you here." "Isn't it just! (What
is it lady? Cabbage? Oh, baggage! No, no, you can't check baggage
here; this isn't a regular train.) George, stop holding my hand! I
can't make change!"

"Aw, Mame, who do you love?"

"Why, tweetums, I love--(plenty of room up forward! Don't jam up the
door) you, of course. (Fare, please! Fare, please! Have your change
ready!)"

"Can't we get a moment alone, Mame?"

"Yes, dear; wait until twelve-thirty, and we'll drive to the car barn
then. (Transfers! Transfers!)"

"Spike" says that his liberty was his first actual touch with the
horrors of war.

Another bird that lived in some remote corner of New York State told
me in pitiful tones that all he had time to do was to walk down the
street of his home town, shake hands with the Postmaster, lean over
the fence and kiss his girl (it had to go two ways, Hello and