The Press., 1900-12-20
,o,,rse haIf t,rnen .,Is neat,


 How delightfully."- clever; do tell me another"' Mrs. Blakey was saying to him, brightly. as her small foot pressed the button and telegraphed Nora to "clear table for next course"
 Nora appeared-a dream of delight in a black dress, an exquisite apron and a brand new butterfly cap that Mir. Blakey himself had selected and brought home for the occasion. She waited for the cue. She never so much as glanced at Mrs. Blakey. who in her turn kept her eyes determinedly away from the maid as she chatted on with the man at her left. Nora fitted about, deftly removing soup plates.
 Suddenly Mrs. Blakey felt herself pierced by her husbands gaze. Great heavens! What was the girl doing? Finger bowls after the soup! Had she given her the wrong signal? The guests were looking puzzled and watching their hostess. Mrs. Blakey rose to the occasion and desperately dipped her fingers. while she peremp- torily gave the signal for next course. Away went the finger bowls. and Nora, with a wild look in her pretty eyes, began to bring in black coffee.
 "Horrible"' calculated Mrs. Blakey to the man on her left. who had just finished quoting her a little quatrain of his own. Then she apOlogized, with one eye on him and another on Nora, who was floating past her, all uncon- scious of appealing glances and furtive %nH, ct e,1n Inc of signals was eddying like whirlpool in Mrs. Blakey's mind. The coffee was finished and something must be done. She gave one long, continuous ring, and watched breathlessly to see what would turn up. A cold precipitation started upon her forehead. Another round of finger bowls! And while they were using them. Nora. with face like lobster. passed the bread. It was long dinner-the largest and most indigestible that either he or Mrs. Blakey had ever eaten-but it came to an end at last. The guests had de parted, and Mir. Blakey stood with his hands in his pockets looking reproach- fully at his wife as she sObbed it out on sofa pillow.
 Suddenly she sat up and gave a shriek of laughter. Then another and another.
 "Eleanor! Eleanor" cried MT. Bla- key. in alarm What's the matter? Is it-hysterics:
 "Hysterics-no.' she echoed, with another burst of laughter. ''Its-it's masculine brains and business meth ods!'
 And that was one time when MT. Blakey spelled out new page in his primer of life.-Chicago Record.
 Hard to Rob Drug Stores.
 'T ain't doing nothing now." said the young man with the small eyes and low brow as he accepted an invitation from an equally low browed compan- ion to sit at q round table. My last job heeled me pretty well. and I don't do no work unless l has to-"
 What is t?" asked the other rascal.
 The first tough made significant quaintance with the art of sandbag- ging and lead piping.
 "To tell the truth'-he called it ''troot' this cracksman's work is too risky. Toe much pulling of guns by the other fellows, and you've got to have an ex- p.nsive outfit and doing the sneak act is too risky. Did ever tell you how started out? It was in a drug store, and I thought could swipe some brushes or something like that You can always hook them things. We'll, l got in all right, but had to buy soda -a-r-h!Lto get an excuse. I took my time swallowing the stuff, and up to that point the graft worked all right.
 "The boss he walked away, and after awhile he went behind the little place where they put up prescriptions, and then l gathered i'll three nice brushes. But before I had taken three steps he was on to me. 1 found out afterward that all these druggists have little holes or cracks in the stained glass in front of their desks. so they can pipe off all that goes on in the store. ."-Chicago Tribune.