All land-ladies are divided into two parts. Some are and some aren't ladies. Mine isn't. All landladies should have daughters. Bumlooking land-ladies should have good-looking daughters; good looking land-ladies should have bum-looking daughters. In this way one is enabled to take the daughter to Senior Singing or the old lady to a moving picture show. My land-lady is a bumlooker with two small sons. I took her to a show once but she got so excited over the western pictures, that I sneaked out and let her come home by herself.
   Old land-ladies are often hard to entertain. I had one though who could entertain herself. She would sit on the arm of my chair and whistle through her teeth, like a canary bird, for hours at a time, while I tried to do C. E. mechanics. She was a wonderful imitator. Once I remember she gave such a life-like imitation of a polar bear that I hit her on the head with a croquet ball by mistake.
    Most land-ladies go to church. This is as it

should be, for then you are able to sleep later in the morning and get in a round of poker before she gets back. Church-going land-ladies, however, are often musical. I had a friend whose landlady could pick out "Love Me and the World is Mine" with one finger. Study came pretty hard until she burnt her finger in a howl of soup one frosty morning.
    My land-lady is curious. She sticks her head into my room every Sunday morning at half past three and, having assured herself that I'm asleep, knocks pretty loudly on the door, grabs my laundry hag filled with dead men and then scampers down the hall as if through modesty.
    The real trouble with land-ladies is their nerve system. One can't have ten or fifteen chosen companions in without bringing up the land-lady. This is especially true of mine, now that there is a little coolness existing between us over a small matter of four months rent. I honestly believe that the good soul is more worried about that than I am.