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Must Get One, Anyhow.

"John," said Mrs. Atwood, thought fully, "everybody in society appears to think an awful lot of genealogy these days."

"Jennie what?" exclaimed John, looking up from his evening paper.

"Genealogy," repeated Mrs. Atwootl.

. "What's that?"

"I don't exactly know/' replied Mrs. Atwood, "but I think it's a tree of some sort. At least, I heard some ladies refer to it as a. family tree."

"Well, what of it?" he asked.

"Why, it seems to be a sort of fad, you know, and everyone who is any one lyis to have one, I suppose."

"Buy one, then," he said, irritably. "Buy the best in town and have the bill sent to me. but don't bother me with the details of that affair. Get one, and stick it up in the conserva tory, if you want one, and if it isn't too large."

"But I don't know anything about them."

"Find out, and if it's too large for the conservatory, stick it up 011 the ! lawn, and, if that ain't big enough,

I'll buy the next plot in order to make room. There can't any of them Jly any higher than we can, and, if it comes to a question of trees, I'll buy a whole orchard for you."

Still she hesitated.

"The fact is,. John," she confessed a) last, "I don't just know where to go for anything in that line. Where do they keep the family trees and I all such -things?"

"What do you suppose I know about it?"' lie exclaimed. "You're running the fashion end of this establishment, and I don't want to be bothered with it. If the florist can't tell you any thing about it, hunt up a first-class uursery-mau and place your order with him/'