Guy Hammersley; or, Clearing his Name — page 165: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

156 GUY HAMMERSLEY. said, in her cheerful way: ‘‘ Well, Ward, how many jokes have you reeled off by this time?” ‘‘None,’’ the boy was compelled to answer, adding, honestly : ‘‘ It isn’t quite as easy as I thought it was. But I don’t believe I set to work the right way. Most of the jokes are about common, every-day things and happenings, so perhaps I'd get along faster if, instead of trying to concentrate my thoughts on the eray matter in my brain and look at nothing, I just sat quietly and gazed about the room till my eye lichted on something to which I could hang a joke.” Suiting the action to the word, Ward transferred his glances from the ceiling to the various objects around the apartment. Suddenly they rested on puss, asleep at Harold’s feet, and instantly the joke maker's lips began to move noiselessly. It was evi- dent he had hit on an idea, and was struggling to give it expression. ‘It doesn’t fit as pat as I hope to make it after a little polishing,” he said, when he had scribbled a few lines on the sheet of paper that had for so long remained ominously white ; ‘‘ but tell me what you think of this,” and he read : ‘‘ Why is a tabby asleep on a tree trunk like the list of publications sent out by a publishing house? Because it is a catalogue.” The ambitious author looked up expectantly, but Guy said nothing, and Ruth had but the faintest shadow ofa smile on her fair face as she said, gently : ‘“‘ But that isn’t a joke, my dear Ward, it’s a conun- drum.” ‘‘ Well, what of that? That makes it all the Gomicbooks (€(@) m