Judge — June 16, 1900 — page 4: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

bed him so unmercifully that he had ceased his afternoon calls and taken viciously to golf. To-night she had smiled frankly at him in the cotillon, and, answering her glance, he had chos- en her for a difficult figure, remember- ing how nicely their steps accorded ever since the old dancing-school days. Now they were together in this heaven of a conservatory and it seemed as though their estrangement were forgot- ten. Certainly women, especially girls, were hard to understand. He looked at her searchingly but smilingly. It was always a safe thing todo. He hoped she would say some- thing first. She did. “ It was so nice of you to think of me, Jack, after all this time.” “It is a privilege to think of you,” he said. He hadn't an idea what she meant. He began to whistle softly — looking at her closely —a trifle of re- proach in his glance. “You didn’t have to send a card, Jack,” she began; “flowers have a language, you know HEAVY WORK. “I tell you! there’s nothing like my wile’s bisctits to put muscle on your chest. JUDGE'S FAVORITES. RUTH ROYAL, Ruth, in the old Dan Sully days Your budding promise brought you praise : She fluttered and flushed. Then she dropped her fan. He took it and held it with an air of possession. There was a pause. He began: to think of supper. He was thirsty, too. “And to think,” she began, “to think that I believed all that horrid Tommie Tackle said about you.” He pricked up his ears. Tommie had won a lot of his money that afternoon at the club, He laughed lightly. “Speak good of me if you can; bad of me if you must, but don’t stop "—— “ But, Jack, you don’t seem to realize —he said you were fast—and—and— but when I saw your flowers I knew that any man with sentiment enough to understand the language of flowers could not—not— how did you ever get Thornley to trans- late the message ?” He began to think rapidly. Thornley 3, Was Tackle’s florist. KATR MASTERSON. You flutter on the verge of fame, To find, in vaudevillian plays, welcome royal, like your name. ; WILD THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS BEASTS HII: band was playing a dreamy waltz from the Geisha. She was circling about in an aura of white tulle and his arm was around her. As she moved, strands of her reddish-brown hair floated somehow before his eyes and across his lips. He wondered if women left those curls loose on pur- pose or if they just happened so, With a few drawn-out chords the music stopped and she slipped her arm through his and they moved together toward the big palm-room, green and cool and quiet but for the rinkling of a fountain somewhere amid the plans, Electric stars blazed from the glass roof. ‘There was no one there. It was all extremely pleasant to him. As much as a month ago the pretty girl on his arm had snub- First rooster —"* Say, fel- lers, that work of art gives me an idea. “Come over to the corn-field and T'll show you." He took her hand in his and smoothed her glove over the wrist. He wondered what she was talking about. “ Dolly,"" he began — “No,” she cried in a whisper, “it was all my fault—all—and to think you were so forgiving ! ‘1 cried when I saw the flowers, Jack — pansies, thought; lies, forgiveness; violets and roses, all sorts of sweet things. When did you learn the language of flowers, Jack?” He squeezed her hand softly and lingeringly. He had to think, He hadn't sent her a Mrs. Sparks —* Can't you get i a i ___Reverenp Mr. PARKS" Noe Tesarat” bee cat ig Rewer in weeks, ‘ Fi “sg it wasn’t that I'm a minister of the gospel I'd kick the whole “When I first looked in jaye your tars, Panay oe ttn saa oll goon let yoo darn business to pieces. your eyes, Dolly.” no tums. Funny we didn’t think of this trick be. TRUE TO HIS FAITH. comicbooks.com