One of the ushers approached a man who appeared to be annoying those about him.
"Don't you like the show?"
"Then why do you persist in hissing the performers?"
"Why, m-man alive, I w-was-n't h-hissing! I w-was s-s-im-ply s-s-s-saying to S-s-s-sammie that the s-s-s-singing is s-s-s-superb."
A man who stuttered badly went to a specialist and after ten difficult lessons learned to say quite distinctly, "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers." His friends congratulated him upon this splendid achievement.
"Yes," said the man doubtfully, "but it's s-s-such a d-d-deucedly d-d-d-difficult rem-mark to w-w-work into an ordin-n-nary c-c-convers-s-sa-tion, y' know."
On the occasion of a most interesting family event, Mr. Peedle, who desired a son, paced the drawing-room in extreme agitation, until at last the doctor appeared in the doorway.
"Oh, oh, tell me," he gasped, "what is it—a boy or a girl?"
"Tr-tr-tr—" the physician began stammeringly.
"Triplets! Merciful providence!"
"Qu-qu-qu—" spluttered the doctor.
Peedle paled some more.
"Quadruplets!" he moaned.
"N-n-no!" the physician snapped. "Qu-qu-quite the contrary. Tr-tr-try to take it qu-quietly. It's a girl."