in your life that you're going to sit in with a President of these United States!"
So we got into a taxi and we started off all het up, and all of a sudden I says to my wife, "Say, do you notice anything funny about this taxi?"
"Why no," she says, "I don't know's I do; it looks all right to me. Why?"
"Looks all right!" I says. "I should say it does! Do you mean to tell me you don't notice something different about this taxi?"
"Why no," she says.
"Well, what make of car is it?" I says.
Of course Delmerine has to horn in. "It's a Studebaker, isn't it?" she says.
"Oh it is, is it, Miss Smarty!" I says. "My God, and me teaching you to drive! It is not a Studebaker, and it isn't a Cadillac, no, and it isn't a flivver either! It's a Buick. See the significance?"
Well, they both stared at me—couldn't get the idea at all—just like women, even the brightest of 'em.
"Can't you see?" I says. "Here's the Buick, the