Moving the clock

A well off young man was moving from one street to another, a few streets away.

Observing with dismay the care-free way in which the moving crew yanked his cherished antiques about, he was filled with a desire to save from possible damages a tall grandfathers clock which he prized highly.

Taking the clock in his arms he started for the new house. But the clock was as tall as its owner, and heavy besides, and he had to put it down every few feet and rest his arms and mop his streaming brow. Then he would clutch his burden and stagger on again. After half an hour of these strenuous exertions he was nearing his destination, when an intoxicated person who had been watching his labors from the opposite side of the road took advantage of a halt to hail him.

Mister, he said thickly, could I ash you a questn?

What is it? demanded the exhausted young man.

Why on earth dont you carry a watch?

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