Issue 2 and Volume 102.

FALSE ALARMS Typed The visitor was trying to make friends with the young son of the house as he waited for the older sister to finish dressing. “I think I have met all of your family except your Uncle Henry,” he said. “How does he look—I mean which side of the house does he look like?” The little boy considered. “I guess,” he said finally, “the side with the bay window.” A group of Chicago truckers were showing the visiting Texas operator the town. “What do you think of our stockyards?” they asked him. “Oh, they’re all right, but we have branding corrals in Texas that are bigger,” he said. That night they put some snapping turtles in his bed. When he turned back the covers, he asked what they were. “Illinois bedbugs,” they replied. He peered at them a moment. “So they’ are,” he agreed. “Younguns, ain’t they?” Pie-Eyed…

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