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"Didn't I tell ye to feed that cat a pound of meat every day until ye
had her fat?" demanded an Irish shopkeeper, nodding toward a sickly,
emaciated cat that was slinking through the store.

"Ye did thot," replied the assistant, "an" I've just been after feedin'
her a pound of meat this very minute."

"Faith, an' I don't believe ye. Bring me the scales."

The poor cat was lifted into the scales. Thy balancd at exactly one
pound.

"There!" exclaimed the assistant triumphantly. "Didn't I tell ye she'd
had her pound of meat?"

"That's right," admitted the boss, scratching his head. "That's yer
pound of meat all right. But"--suddenly looking up--"where the divvil is
the cat?"





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