"HUGH-ho, pal," sighed the spokesman of the Dear Old Pals, Jolly Old Pals, "there is still little cause for madcap mirth, eh?"
"Very little," I said.
"TI bet you often wish that a crisis was 5 conducted more on the lines of a slapstick a film.
"TI bet I do."
"It's the strain, isn't it, pal? It affects us all, and then we have a reaction. We begin to see gs."
es, I suppose we d howers of custard-pies, floors falling out of motor-cars, so that the passengers have to run miles, tea-cups that play tunes when you pick them up, thickly glued conference chairs, and revolving doors....supposing, pal, that the people who start these crises got stuck in revolving doors for ever—"
or ever and ever..."
"Yes. They'd simply have to laugh, wouldn't and it wouldn't be much sillier than cheero, pal," he said, weeping. hero, pal" I said, choking back my tears.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.