The Southern Herald

President Loves Innocent Jest

"Two dollars," replied the young lady in charge sweetly.

Plunging into his spacious trousers pocket, the presidential right hand brought forth two one dollar bills, which he passed to the ticket seller, and nodding to his trio of companions, he entered the hall.

Life is a jest, and all things show it: I thought so once, and now I know it, sang the poet Gay; and although the president appreciates the necessity of upholding the dignity of the chief executive, still, like Oliver Cromwell, he "loves an innocent jest."

He was to attend a fashionable bazaar held at the New Willard for sweet charity's sake, and started out accompanied by Capt. Butt and two secret service guards, Messrs. Sloan and Wheeler writes Joe Mitchell Chapple in the National.

The party was cordially welcomed by the reception committee, and were about to be permitted to enter the hall when the president whimsically decided to pay his way in like the other patrons of the charity. Walking up to a desk where the tickets were on sale, he inquired: "How much are the tickets?"

"Lend me two dollars, Jack," whispered Captain Butt to Wheeler, "left my money at home."

"So did I," mourned Wheeler (The party were attired in dress suits.)

"Never mind, I'll take care of you both," hastily offered Jimmie Sloan with becoming magnanimity. The others breathed a sigh of relief as he approached the desk. "Three tickets, please," he announced calmly, producing a crisp five-dollar bill.

"Another dollar, please," gently remarked the young lady at the booth.

"Another dollar! H-how m-much did you say those tickets were?" demanded James.

"Two dollars each."

Jimmie was blushing a rosy red when Wheeler came to the rescue.

A passing bell-boy was taken by the collar and a few of the morning's tips were removed from his inside pocket.

Then four silver quarters were placed triumphantly upon the table, and the three passed inside.