Three boys are in the schoolyard bragging about their fathers.

The first boy says, "My dad scribbles a few words on a piece of paper, he calls it a poem, and they give him $50."

The second boy says, "That's nothing. My dad scribbles a few words on a piece of paper, he calls it a song, and they give him $100."

The third boy says, "I got you both beat. My dad scribbles a few words on a piece of paper, calls it a sermon, and it takes eight people to collect all the money!"
The two ladies were sitting in the living room, waiting for their hostess, who was slightly delayed. The daughter of the family was with them, on the theory that she would keep the visitors occupied during the wait.

The child was about six years old, snub nosed, freckled, buck-toothed and bespectacled. She maintained a deep silence and the two ladies peered doubtfully at her.

Finally, one of them muttered to the other, "Not very p-r-e-t-t-y, I fear," carefully spelling the key word.

Whereupon the child piped up, "But awfully s-m-a-r-t!"
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