Judge — June 14, 1913 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

Mrs. RS. DUBBSON sat quietly darning Dubbson’s socks, while her lord and master orated vociferously. “You mean well, Sa- rah,”’ said he, ‘‘but that’s the best that can be said about your infernal habit of butting in on everything under the canopy, whether it is any of your busi- ness or not. Just take one week's record as.asample. Here on Monday you go up to Mrs. Jimpson and tell her your heart is set on owning that lot of Jimpson’s, up on the corner of G Street and Buena Vista Avenue, and you ask her for old friendship’s sake to use her influence with Jimpson to let us have it at a neigh- borly figure; and what happens? She tells Jimpson, of course, and immediately the price goes up fifteen per cent., while, if you had only kept quiet, I could have landed the lot for twenty per cent. less, with a ten per cent. commission for sell- ing it. I was making Jimpson believe I could sell it for him, and he was willing to pay me well for doing it, when in comes Mrs. Buttinski, gives the whole blooming business away by telling who the pur- chaser was, and the whole deal comes down with acrash. You put your foot in it up to the top of your rubber boots!’" THE KISS—WAS IT A DREAM? Dubbsoan’s Mrs. Dubbson wisely refrained from answering, but darned on in smiling si- lence, whereupon Dubbson began again. “Then, on Tuesday, at the Bildad re- ception,’’ he went on, ‘‘you get old Haw- kins, the cashier of the Seventeenth Na- tional, off in the corner and tell him that if my account is overdrawn at the bank the next day, you hope he'll overlook it, because one or two of my little specula- tions have not panned out as well as I had expected, and that the overdraft will be made good in a week, anyhow. Now, of course, you meant well, but it put Hawkins onto the fact that my overdraft was intentional and not an inadvertence, and he came down on me like a pile of bricks, refused to honor the check, and has notified me that my note for four hundred dollars, due on the first, cannot be renewed on any basis whatsoever. There you put your other foot in it, as high as my neck! And so it has gone all through the week. You told seven women in confidence on Wednesday that I am the author of the Fiat Justitia letters in the Gazoo, and, instead of being the next mayor of Noodleville, I couldn’t get even a nomination for dog catcher. You've been at it persistently and consistently for the Lord knows how long, until I have come to believe that, if you were a centi- Retort pede, you could find something to put every separate and distinct foot into, with your hands tied behind your back.”* “Well, John,’’ said the lady amiably, “I am afraid you are right, dear—but how could I be otherwise, living with you all these years as I have done? I guess you keep me as busy putting your foot in things as I do you."’ “‘Me?"’ demanded Dubbson. ‘‘Me? I? What have I put my foot in, I'd like to know?” “This!'’ said Mrs. Dubbson, holding up a much battered sock. ‘*You’ve put your foot in that so often that for me life has become just one darned thing after another!’’ Whereupon Dubbson, realizing the fu- tility of argument with a woman witha gift of humor, put both feet into his ga- loshes and fled to the club, while Mrs. Dubbson, with a pleasant smile, retired to bed and read herself to sleep over the last annual report of the Helping Hand Society. —Herace Dodd Gautit. No Time Wasted Imogene—We weren't in the hall two minutesbefore he kissed me. Doris—Yum! Was it an event? Imogene—My dear, he’s an efficiency expert! . comicbooks.com