Mix.  “Well, I’ll put you in those three headstones—­”

[Illustration:  A TOMBSTONE CONTRACT]

Mrs. B.  “Four headstones, Mr. Mix, not three.”

Mix.  “Four, was it?  No; there was John and Thomas and Alexander P. That’s all you said, I think.  Only three.”

Mrs. B.  “Why, I want one for Adolph too, as a matter of course, the same as the others.  I thought you knew I wanted one for Adolph, one made just like John’s, only with the name different.  Adolph was my fourth husband.  He died about three years after I buried Philip, and I’m wearing mourning for him now.  Now, please give me your prices for the whole of them.”

Mix.  “Well, madam, I want to be as reasonable as I can, and I tell you what I’ll do.  You give me all your work in the future, and I’ll put you in those five headstones at hardly anything above cost; say—­”

Mrs. B. “Four headstones, not five.”

Mix.  “I think you mentioned five.”

Mrs. B.  “No; only four.”

Mix.  “Less see:  there was John, and Thomas and Aleck, and Adolph and Philip.”

Mrs. B.  “Yes, but Aleck and Philip were the same one.  His middle name was Philip, and I always called him by it.”

Mix.  “Mrs. Banger, I’ll be much obliged to you if you’ll tell me precisely how many husbands you have planted up in that cemetery lot.  This thing’s getting a little mixed.”

Mrs. B.  “What do you mean, sir, by saying planted?  I never ‘planted’ anybody.  It’s disgraceful to use such language.”

Mix.  “It’s a technical term, madam.  We always use it, and I don’t see as it’s going to hurt any old row of fellows named Smyth.  Planted is good enough for other men, and it’s good enough for them.”

Mrs. B.  “Old row of—­What d’you mean, you impudent vagabond?  I wouldn’t let you put a headstone on one of my graves if you’d do it for nothing.”

Then Mrs. Banger flounced out of the shop, and Mix called after her as she went through the door,

“Lemme know when you go for another man, and I’ll throw him in a tombstone for a wedding-present He’ll want it soon.”

Mrs. Banger subsequently procured the services of a person in the city, and she regards Mr. Mix with something like detestation.

But Mrs. Banger herself is not universally beloved.  Colonel Coffin knows of one woman who despises her methods and desires her complete repression.  A short time after the election of the colonel to the Legislature a lady called to see him at his law-office.  When she had closed the door, she sat down and said,

“Colonel, my name is Mooney.  I am unmarried—­a single woman.  I called to see you in reference to pushing a bill through the Legislature for the benefit of maiden ladies such as myself.  Let me direct your attention to some extraordinary facts.  Statistics tell us that in the entire population of the world there are one-fourth more women than men.  In this country the proportion of women to men is slightly larger.  In this State there are two and one-eighth women to every man.  Now, this outrageous condition of affairs—­”