An Imagination

Wben a Ttaird street man carne into too hou=o the other evening, tbey were manipulating something io the kitchen that iillod the halls with an odor whiob could scarccly be cal led sweet. "Whewl" be erolaimed do his wife. ;iWbat the michief is that tbat snielh go?" "Wby, " responded the wife, whohad got used to it, "ic's notbirig but your ïiDagination. " "Well, I guess not, " ha said indigoantly. "If I had a imagination that Rmailad liko that. I'd take it out and