Judge — April 27, 1912 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

Mr. R. SONDERBY is one of the calm- est, coolest men on Long Island. He never hurries and he never misses a train. When he dresses for the theater, he dresses slowly, allowing himself am- ple time, and he is always ready and waiting by the time Mrs. Sonderby is half dressed. Then he walks at a re- spectable pace to the station with Mrs. Sonderby, has just one minute to await the train, and carries the whole thing through without fuss or flurry. It is a pleasure to see Mr. Sonderby dress. Before dinner he lays out his linen and his dress suit and his tie, sees that his brushes and comb are in place, puts his clean socks beside his patent-leather shoes beside the low chair, inserts the cuff and collar buttons in their proper buttonholes, and makes all necessary preparations. After dinner he calmly dresses. No haste, no flurry, no hurry. © He dresses with the slow but steady movements of a plumber work- ing by the hour. On September 15th Mrs. Sonderby, about four in the aft- ernoon, called Mr. Sonderby on the telephone. “George, dear,’’ she said, “Mr. and Mrs. Merkle have in- vited us to the theater to-night —the Empire Theater. We will meet you in the lobby at eight- fifteen. Mrs. Merkle and I are going in early to do some shop- ping.. They have a box, so you had better run out and have dinner at home and change your clothes. You can get the seven-thirty train to town, then, and just meet us." “Very well, honey,’’ said Mr. Son- derby. ‘‘Are you sure about that train? You know, the winter time table goes into.effect to-day.”” “I know,'’ said Mrs. Sonderby. ‘I . got anew time table yesterday, and I iave just looked up the time. I'll leave the time table on your dresser.’’ Mr. Sonderby reached Westcote on the train that arrives there at six-three. At six-eighteen he was in his house, and as Pauline, the maid, had dinner on the table, having been urged by Mrs. Sonderby not to delay Mr. Sonderby by having dinner late, Mr. Sonderby began eating at once. Sonderby By ELLIS PARKER BUTLER. ‘*Pauline,*’ he said, when he had eaten his soup and the chop was on the table, “will you run up and bring me the green time table you will find on my dresser?”’ Pauline brought it. Mr. Sonderby had reasonable faith in his wife, but women and time tables are notoriously incompatible, and he just wanted to see for himself. He opened the time table and glanced at it. “Great Scott!"? he exclaimed, and threw his napkin on the table. ‘‘If that isn’t like a woman! Seven-thirty, indeed! Why, that train goes at seven- fifteen, and there isn’t another until eight-twenty! I've got to hustle!"” Hurries. underwear wouldn’t goon. It stuck in adozen places to his wet skin, and he had to inch it on bit by bit, and e then the Jegs and arms were twisted wrong side before and clung like sticky flypaper. Mr. Sonderby dived at the dresser drawers again. “Where are those black silk socks?" he cried. ‘*Where are they?" He jerked the contents of three draw- ers out on the floor, piece by piece. He dug into his sock drawer like a baby ina sand box. Red socks, blue socks, lavender socks, but no black socks. He scowled at the dresser a minute and made a dive for his wife's dresser. He made that look as if a cyclone had struck it, and then his eye caught the darning bag, hanging on a door kneb. He dumped its contents on the floor and searched the debris on his hands and knees, One sock! One black silk sock, with a heel hole as big as the entrance to the mammoth cave! Mr. Son- RENE THE FATE OF THE LAST PEDESTRIAN. As a matter of fact, Mr. Sonderby could have finished his dinner as usual, dressed as usual, walked to the train as usual, and could have reached the sta- tion at seven-fourteen easily; but he had planned to catch a seven-thirty train, and he was a man of system. He jumped up from the table and rushed up the stairs, tearing off his coat as he ran. He threw his coat on the bed, cast his vest after it, jerked off his collar and tie, and in two minutes was in the bath- tub. In another minute he was out again. No time for a good rub! He jerked open three drawers in his dresser, turned their contents upside down—al- though he knew perfectly well his under- wear was in the third drawer. The derby snorted his wrath. And just at that moment he saw his underwear, his socks, his tie, and his dress shirt laid out neatly on the bed. “Humph!"" said Mr. Son- derby. The thin silk socks stuck to his damp feet, and he ripped one of them almost in two, tug- ging at it. He jerked it off and began a hunt for black thread and aneedle. He opened eighteen different boxes and twelve drawers. At last he found a broken needle, with no point, in a sew- ing-machine drawer, and a spool of lav- ender silk, and he spent five minutes trying to thread the needle; but he was in such a hurry he couldn't do it. He threw the torn sock under the bed and put on the sock with the hole in the he Then he jumped for his dress shirt. He had it over his head before he thought of the collar buttons, and he jerked it off again, grabbed his old shirt, and shucked the collar and cuff buttons out of it. There was a tinkle on the floor, and Mr. Sonderby dropped on his hands and knees again. He had lost a collar button. (Continued om pace 10.) comicbooks.com