HERE'S ONE— •
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Scrapegear, driver of a Motor coach, enters Clutchout's garage with a crestfallen air. " I say, Clutchcut, I'm awfully sorry ! My near side dumb-iron buffed into your rear wing.because your man slowed down too suddenly without giving warning. It was Your man's fault, not holding his hand out.. ' "Well," says Clutchout, " you will have to pay for beating,out and paintingmy wing." " expostulated Serapegear, "your man ought not to have :Slowed down Witheut holding out his hand I " • " Can't hel.p that.," says Clutchout. " You should not have been going so fast as to rim into my coach."
"Are you sure?" " Sartin Sure," says Clutchout "It's always the fault of the overtaking vehicle." "Oh," says .Scrapegear, ".I'm gad., you thinkthat, because I made. a• little mistake, It was your coach that biffe,d into mine "