Several years ago, a series of square dances were held in Abbot Hall. On one occasion, a comely young damsel asked her cousin to escort her to the next scheduled dance. Thinking to make it a truly festive affair, she invited him for cocktails and dinner, as she lived within a stone's throw of the hall. Her cousin, a well-to-do man-about-town, promptly accepted her invitation, for he, too, loved country dancing.
On the night of the dance, he appeared early at her door and on the heels of a warm greeting, was seated in front of a sparkling fire. He next was treated to a brace of delicious daiquiries, some mouth-watering canapes, and, as a fitting prelude to an evening of unalloyed pleasure, he was served a culinary masterpiece, a dinner fit for a king.
An hour or so later, having quaffed, nibbled and supped, her cousin arose from the table and in rare good spirits, squired his hostess to Abbot Hall. As they mounted the stairs leading to the auditorium, he paused, clasped her hand and murmured:
"Before I forget it, I want to thank you for a truly wonderful dinner. And, before I forget it, I want to remind you that you owe me $1.50 for your ticket!"
* * *
A distant relative swore that his next-door neighbor was impossible, stubborn, pigheaded and contrary as all get out. Should the S.O.B. drown, he swore they'd find his body well beyond Marblehead Rock...
To spite the incoming tide!
* * *
An old salt once asked me how I liked school.
When I told him that I liked it, he shook his head and said: "I hated school. But it weren't because I was dumb or didn't like my teachers.
'Twas because my folks was poor as church mice," he added. "So hard up that I always went to the privy to eat my lunch. I didn't want no one to know that it 'twas the same every day ...
"One boiled lobster!"