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 the 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 mother's grave that you are his father."
        The man dies, happy.
        The wife mutters under her breath: "Thank God he didn't ask me
about the other three."