  “HOW’S your father?” came the whisper, Bashful Ned the silence breaking; “Oh, he’s nicely,” Annie murmured, Smilingly the question taking. Conversation flagged a moment, Hopeless Ned essayed another: “Annie, I—I,” then a coughing, And the question, “How’s your mother?” “Mother? Oh, she’s doing finely!” Fleeting fast was all forbearance, When in low, despairing accents, Came the climax, “How’s your parents?” Anonymous. |
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