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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 12, Issue 8 (November 1, 1937)

Tactless

Tactless.

“He's the image of his mother,” said the proud father, exhibiting his first-born.

“Yes,” agreed the visitor, absent-mindedly. “Nothing could be plainer.”

Official Protection.

A little boy came running round the corner of the street and pulled up beside a policeman. “What's all this abotst?” asked the constable gruffly.

“I say,” said the boy, “if you saw a little boy getting hurt, would you interfere?”

The policeman looked very important. “Of course, my lad,” he said quickly.

“Well, will you come along with me, please?” said the boy. “Dad is waiting for me at the front door with a stick.”