a good one or you get the push, and the next suitor tries."
The Vice was on his mettle and did his best. Where the genius of Invention failed him he turned to Adaptation's artful aid.
"Oneth upon a time there wath a Flood," he began.
"I know that," said the captious Desdemona.
"But you don't know what I did in it," countered Othello. "You're too clever, Mith Death de Moaner."
"Swam, I 'spec," hazarded Desdemona.
"Wrong again," repeated Othello. "You just listen, or you'll put me out."
"Father will do that," murmured Desdemona, giving the Dog, or Dodge, of Venice a pat on the head.
"It was a norful Flood, and rained like anything for days and days. The children couldn't go out to tea-parties and that made it worse."
"I 'spec they paddled though, and that was top-hole," hazarded Desdemona.
"Yeth—until it got too deep. Well, a Sahib named Noah told all the silly natives they'd be
