A man lies on his deathbed, surrounded by his family: a weeping wife and four children. Three of the children are tall, good-looking and athletic; but the fourth and youngest is an ugly runt.

Darling wife, the husband whispers, assure me that the youngest child really is mine. I want to know the truth before I die, I will forgive you if …

The wife gently interrupts him. Yes, my dearest, absolutely, no question, I swear on my mothers grave that you are his father.

The man then dies, happy.

The wife mutters under her breath: Thank God he didnt ask about the other three.