THE LUCK OF THE IRISH
And there's your child. They don't want real elephants, they want make-believes, for they live in a world of make-believe.
"We like Uncle Bill's elephants, 'cause they're so high up!"
"I see," replied Ruth, gravely. "You are all cubists. I didn't know that."
The children seized the two drawings and made off to exhibit them.
"You're as bad as they are," she laughed.
"Ain't they great? But they like my zebra best. All you have to do is to draw a donkey and send him to jail."
"You are always thinking of that elephant."
"Sure I am. If I don't ride an elephant between Bombay and Calcutta, it's going to break my heart. Ever since I was five I've been wanting to ride elephants. None of your zoo stuff, but the real article, howdahs with masonic aprons hanging down the sides, and W. G. embroidered with pearls, like the sleight-o'-hand fakers use in the vaudeville. Great! And now I'm going to tell you a secret. I've ordered the biggest, highest elephant in Jaipur."
"What?"
"Ye-ah. He'll be there at the station for us, and we'll have him all the way up to Amber and back, howdah and all."
"William Grogan, and after all my efforts to make you save your money!"
"'Sh! Here's the joke. It's the state elephant, and all it costs me is five dollars, including the
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