"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?"
