Abie

Tyrwhitts edition has the less bloody threat, Tell wher he is, or thou shalt it abie!

Write me a note for the milkman, Abie, before you go to bed, and leave it out with the bottles—half a pint of double cream I want.

Yes, Abie, run down in the cellar; on the top shelf it is, under the grape-jelly row—left yet from poor papa's last birthday.

Abie should take out a thousand more life insurance now; and, with economical ways, you got a grand future.

There was no better way to keep from getting old than to win too many munits in Abie's games.