One evening just before dinner the wife, who had been playing bridge all the afternoon, came in to find her husband and a strange man (afterward ascertained to be a lawyer) engaged in some mysterious business over the library table upon which were spread several sheets of paper.
What are you doing with all that paper, Henry? demanded the wife.
I am making a wish, meekly responded the husband.
A wish?
Yes, my dear. In your presence I shall not presume to call it a will.