You say, in terms a little blunt,
    “This scheme that you are advertising
  Was all along a private stunt
    Of Wilson’s singular devising;
  His game we weren’t allowed to know;
    Under a misty smile he masked it;
  We never gave him leave to go
       (He never asked it).

  “And you, poor credulous Allies,
    Found in this fellow, self-appointed,
  The worth he had in his own eyes
    And let him pose as God’s anointed;
  Taking no sort of pains to see
    Whether or not he had a mandate,
  Like puppy-dogs the other Three
        Out of his hand ate.”

  But how if we had queered his claim
    Or questioned his credentials, saying,
  “Who is this Woodrow What’s-his-name? 
    And what’s the role he thinks he’s playing? 
  Is he a Methodist divine? 
    Or does he boom Chicago bacon?”—­
  I think that I can guess the line
        You would have taken.

  “Behold a Man,” I hear you say,
    “Of peerless wit and ripe instruction,
  Elect of Heaven and U.S.A.—­
    Surely an ample introduction;
  He comes to put Creation right;
    He brings no chits—­he doesn’t need ’em;
  Who doubts his faith will have to fight
       The Bird of Freedom!”

  O.S.

* * * * *

“Small ads.”

“Where do you get servants from?” I asked.

“From small ads.,” said Phyllis promptly.

I picked up the paper from the floor where I had thrown it in the morning.  My wife is one of those rare women who always leave things where you put them.  It is this trait that endears her to me.  I ran my trained eye over an ad. column.

“Got it at once,” I said with pardonable pride.  “How’s this?—­’General (genuine), stand any test trd.  L70 possess. s. hands yrs. s.a.v.’”

“I like genuine people,” said Phyllis thoughtfully.  “And under the circumstances”—­(here she looked hard at me, as if I were a circumstance)—­ “under the circumstances I think we ought to have one that will stand any test.  Seventy pounds is out of the question, of course, but she might come for less when she sees how small we are.  What does ‘s. hands yrs.’ stand for?”

“I don’t know,” I said; “I can only think of ‘soft hands for years.’”

“I should like her,” said Phyllis.  “Their hands are the one thing against Generals.  She must be a nice girl to take such care of them.  Think how careful she’d be with the china.  What’s ’trd.’?”

“I’m afraid it must mean tired,” I said.

“Oh, she’d soon get rested here,” said Phyllis; “I don’t think that need be against her.  She’s probably been in a hard place lately.  Are there any more?”

“Plenty,” I said.  “How does this one strike you?—­’General. no bacon. possess. 2 rms.  L45 wky. s.a.v.’”

“I like that one,” said Phyllis.  “She must be an awfully unselfish girl to go without bacon.  I don’t see how we are going to spare two rooms, though, unless she’s willing to count the kitchen as one.  Forty-five pounds a week must be a printer’s error.  But we can easily afford forty-five pounds a year.”