Judge — May 18, 1912 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

“TMS BEING A SUPYRAGETTE ISN'T WHAT IT'S CRACKED UP TO BE.” last time. If he wanted to take Grace Fenn to the theater, he could take her every night, for all she cared! He was a regular Lothario, anyway, and for her part she was glad to be rid of him. In proof of which she threw herself on her bed and cried and eried and cried. Aside from the fact of his insisting on taking Grace with them, she resented the dictatorial tone of his telegram and the curt way in which he addressed her. Be ready, indeed! As if she were a servant ora slave to be ordered about by him! And so at eight-thirty she was not ready to go to the theater or anywhere else. She sat in her own room, robed in a sort of tea gown—which, by the way, was one of her prettiest and most effective ones—and her hair was care- fully dressed, though, of course, she had no intention of seeing Jack when he came. And so, when the maid came and told her he had come, she sent down the message that she did not care to see him. In response, Jack sent up his card, with a penciled line on the back: ‘‘Don’t be perverse, girlie! If you’re mad, come down and tell me about it.” After a glance in the mirror and a few little pats at her prettily dressed hair, Louise went slowly downstairs, the frilly laces of her tea gown trailing be- hind her. “*Now, tell me about it,’’ said Jack, taking her in his arms and drawing her close to his six feet two of humanity. “IL don’t want to be here,’’ said Louise, trying ineffectually to get away. “T hate you!’ “Why, girlie! After I knuckled down and caved in and acceded to all your con- ditions! And when I’ve come here pur- posely to tell you that your letter set me thinking! And you're right! I've been a brute, and you've been an angel to stand my foolishness at all. Louise, dearest, can you ever forgive me for the past, if I promise to be all yours and yours alone for the future?’’ Louise looked at him wonderingly. There was no mistaking the earnestness in his eyes and his voice. **But, Jack,’’ she said, ‘‘you tele- graphed me that we must stop and get Grace to-night to go to the theater with us!"’ “*Oh, no, dearest girl, I didn’t! didn’t you read my telegram? that you and I would go alone.’’ “Jack, what are you talking about? Here’s the telegram. It speaks for it- self."" And Louise flashed a yellow paper at him. Jack read it, and then, ‘‘Confcund those operators!’’ he shouted. ‘‘Why, you poor little darling, I don't wonder you thought that I meant we'd stop for Why, I said But what I wrote was ‘to- Grace. gether,’ not ‘to get her. Louise looked at the telegram, at first incredulously, and then understandingly. “Oh, Jack,’’ she cried, ‘‘this shall be our last misundersanding!"’ “Indeed it will, dear heart! And this one wasn't our fault. Those oper- ators are so careless! But we'll take it as an omen of our future happiness, and our watchword shall always be ‘To- gether.""" “*Together,”’ whispered Louise softly. Badly Dis-track-ted. The poet raved because his wife Had lost some tresses she had bought: “Your misplaced switch, upon my life, Has badly wrecked my train of thought !”* For the purpose of scenting the opin- ion of the delegates Rosewater will be precipitated upon the Republican na- tional convention. rR, The man on the bridge—"' 1 've been watching that fisherman for five hours, and be hasn't caught a thing. It's strange the way some folks spend their time.” comicbooks.com