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