Judge — February 16, 1907 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

MISS DE SMYTHE’S VALENTINE, CHAPTER III. CHAPTER 1, Once more we return to IT WAS nine a. m. on the morning of Saint Valentine’s Day, and Clara Louise de Smythe, with palpitating heart, stood in the front window of her father’s brownstone residence, anxiously awaiting the postman. For Clara expected a valentine. Indeed, she had been told that she would re- ceive one, and she pictured it costing about fourteen dollars and covered with bleeding hearts and smiling Cu- pids and gushing poetry. As she shaded her eyes with her hand and peered up and down the street and listened for the letter-carrier’s whis- tle, she said to herself, «In a few minutes, unless that postman has fallen down a coal-chute or broken his neck on a banana-skin, I shall know whether Clarence Doo- Clara. At last she hears the postman’s whistle, and a mo- ment later he is at the front door and she is handed the envelope that Clarence had mailed the day before. How her heart beat with joy as she kicked the cat out of the way and took the missive into the parlor and closed the door! She must be alone to gloat over her valentine. But the smile of satisfaction on her face turned to a look of agony after she had opened the envelope and taken out—a_ laundry- check! +“ W-what—what is this ?” asked the poor girl, turning the rough piece of paper over little de Joynes calls at this house four nights a week to get warm or I shall know whether those hand-squeezes and because he loves me. those sighs and those dying looks mean a lemon or a proposal of marriage. He said that to-day I would learn his secret. Oh, that Iwas back of that postman with a hat-pin six feet long!” CHAPTER I. And now, dear reader, let us go back just twenty-four hours. This makes it nine a. m. on the morning before Saint Valentine's Day, and Clarence Doolittle de Joynes is hurrying out of a Chi- nese laundry, after leaving his soiled linen, and figuring that he will be half an hour late at the office, As he hastens up the street, wondering what new ex- cuse he can give the boss this morning, a string of valentines displayed in a window catches his eye and he suddenly remem- bers Clara. “Great Scott!” he exclaims he stops and turns pale. + Yes, must be done, even if I lose my job. Of course twenty-five cents is a good deal of money to spend on a girl with red hair and a turned-up nose, but think of the gas and heat 1 have saved this winter !” It had to be done quickly, and in three or four minutes a valentine was purchased and an envelope addressed and stamped and dropped in the nearest mail- box, and over in her hands and looking in vain for bleeding THE DESCENT OF MAN. Huon McGreoor (who has been imbibing os usual)—" Do ye ken John McGregor, wha keeps the grocery-store ?* ° His prieno—"" Your son, John McGregor? Why, of course | know him! What'is the matter?" Huot McGrecor—" Why, he kicked me cot o' his store Just noo. But A’'ll show him—A'll show him A’ kem from a better family than ever he did!"" THE SPANKING REGIONS. “Do you_cry when your mam- ma whips you?" “Umm! When she whips me on the hurting part I do."* hearts and smiling Cupids and gushing poetry. ‘Is—is this a Chinese comic valentine or an in- vitation to a chop-suey banquet ? Deceived! Turned down! Stung!" And with a cry of de- spair she wobbled over to the soft- est rug she could find and fell down and yelled for the family to come in and witness her death- struggles. ‘And what happened to Clar- ence Doolittle de Joynes? How the careless fellow ever mixed his laundry-check and the valentine he could never remember; but there was one thing he never for- got. Clara's three big brothers caught him that night on his way home from the office, and, al- though this happened eight years ago, Clarence to this day never passes a string of valentines that he doesn’t start and turn pale and run half a block before he can calm himself. A DOUBLE HANDICAP. 66] CANNOT sing the old songs,” The minstrel warbled true, And, what was soon discovered, He couldn't sing the new. FOOL and his money are not always soon parted. WALKER O'LOUGHLIN — THE EVOLUTION OF PAPA’S SLIPPER. comicbooks.com