We were at war with the Kaiser, because he had stolen our word for 'twenty'. We chased that varmint for twelve-dickety miles. We had to give up because my shoe had broken, so he got away. The closest cobbler was in Freadricksdale, which is what we called Shellbyville in those days. I tied an onion to my belt, which was the style of the time, and took the streetcar to Freadricksdale. In those days, it cost a nickel, which was more than half the country could afford.