Judge — November 8, 1913 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

Watching Our Funny World Go By By HOMER CROY Disarming a Burglar WONDER if other people feel the same way about it I do when they = have to go down and put out @ \~ a burglar. It disturbs me when I wake up in the middle of the night to find that a burglar has wandered into my resi- Cae dence. He is never welcome 28 in my home. The moment that I hear him stirring around, I wish that he were gone. I dread going down and speaking to him. Leta seems to think that I am never happier than when getting rid of a bur- glar. This is a mistake, for I really feel ill at ease when I am turning a burglar out into the night. Leta has a wonderfully keen ear for burglars. A burglar can hardly get the window open until Leta nudges me and tells me to go down and disarm him. That is the way she puts it: ‘‘Homer, there is a burglar in the house! Slip down, please, and disarm him.’’ I try to tell her that she is mistaken and that there is no burglar in the house; but she makes me listen a moment until the sil- verware rattles, and nudges me again to be on my way. I wish that the burglar had stayed at home—I am afraid that I may hurt him, Thate to hurt a burglar that I don’t know —he may have a loving wife at home and children with their tear-stained faces pressed against the windowpane awaiting his return. “After you have disarmed him, hold him until I telephone for the police,’’ breathes Leta. “All right,’’ I whisper back and slip downstairs. A finger of light from the burglar’s lantern on the table bores through the darkness, showing him to be at work fill- ing his sack with silverware. I notice that he is a large burglar, with thick IDLE CURIOSITY Pup—I'm going to stick around here just to find out whether he cao bark or not. shoulders and a mean, ugly face. I feel more certain than ever that he has a wife and children at home. I wish that he had stayed there with them. 1 start to crawl back up the stairs, but there is Leta leaning over the railing. ‘‘What is the matter?” whispers Leta. “‘I—I want something to hit him with.”” “‘Why, you know there isn’t anything up here! Hurry back and disarm him, dear, before he gets away.’” I turn back and peer around the door at him once more. His face is as ugly and mean-looking as ever. My knees be- gin to get in each other’s way. I am afraid he will hear them, and so try to slip back upstairs. But there is Leta still leaning over the railing. **You—you won’t be frightened at the disturb- ance?’’ I stammer. “‘No,”* she assures me. him when you disarm him."’ I promise I won't. I make the promise without hesitation. The silverware clanks sickeningly, and Leta waves me frantically to hurry and disarm him. I turn toward the kitchen where he is, but I stumble over a chair. The burglar pauses, bent over in a listen- ing attitude, while the whole house is breathless. I see that he is alarmed and stumble over the chair again. With that, the burglar seizes his lantern and dives through the open window. Pshaw! he has escaped! I telephone the police, have them sta- tion a patrolman outside, and go back to Leta, who is weeping that I did not get to disarm him. ‘‘Anyway,’’ I console her, “the had a mighty narrow escape! If that chair hadn’t been there, I'd got him sure! He had his luck with him.” So every time in the middle of the night when I feel Leta’s hand on my arm, cold sweat stands on me; for I know I will have to go down and stumble over a chair. “Don't burt TRYING HIS PATIENCE “* Be patient a moment, John, till I think where I want you to put it.” Osculatory A CHICAGO woman is planning a schoo? to teach wives the art of kissing their husbands—of coddling them and. making them happy. We have never been a husband, but: we feel sure that if we were we should like to be made happy. In fact, we are strong supporters of any movement to advance the cause of kissing. Miss Edna McGowan, who has an office on North Clark Street, is working out the idea. She says that when the tired hus- band comes home in the evening from his day’s toil, his wife, in a pretty house dress, will meet him at the door, lead him to the morris and begin making him happy. This sounds very interesting to us. We would be willing to do all we could to help the cause along. We would try to get off early in the afternoon that the wife might have every opportunity to make good at her theory. If the directors of this new school wish any men to work out their theories on, and will communicate with the editor of this page, we will do all we can for them. We feel absolutely certain that we. can assure them at least one volunteer. comicbooks.com