Judge — August 1, 1914 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

clasp. “If you aren't going away, sit down.” “I was joking, too,’’ he confessed sheepishly. “I only meant to tease you a bit, and then—ask you to marry me. Will you, Trix?"’ “Why should 1? If you are not ‘going far, very far away,’ you'll continue to call twice or three times a week.’" “I'll quit coming,’’ he threatened. “What's your answer?"’ “Oughtn’t you,'’ she plaintively que- ried, ‘‘tell me how much you love me, and—and all that sort of thing?’ She twisted her handkerchitf and eyed the floor. ‘Every girl likes to be told and to be coaxed a little.’ After keenly searching her naive, child- ish face, Wagley felt ashamed of his sus- picions and began to tell her. He told ber in seven sizzling, oath-bound volumes, with statistical tables, glossary and index “Oh, that was perfectly splendid!"’ she breathed ecstatically, cheeks red and eyes shining. ‘‘Promise that you won't ask to kiss me to-night, and I’ll say Yes.’” “LT can wait,’’ he agreed. you love me”’. “Please !’’ she wheedled, with a de- lirium-inciting smile. ‘*For me!’" She did, however, allow him to hold herhand. During the remainder of the evening she sat blissfully, dreamily silent, while he talked, talked, talked. “You know why I tried to fool you about going away?’’ he asked, as they stood at the door for the good-night Scene. “Of course!’’ she laughed. ‘‘This is April first. Were you still fooling when you proposed?”’ “Great Scott! No!’ “Oh, weren’t you?”’ murmured Trix, dear old guileless Trix, who always bit. “Iwas, when I accepted you.”” “But if Defaulting on Bonds It does not take long for some men who become interested in the bonds of matrimony to default on the interest. THE BLIND LEADING THE BLIND The Trouble-shooter THAT's what they calls me at the shop — The trouble-shooter’s me. I’m chasin’ trouble all day long— That’s why I'm it, y’u see? When big, rich stiffs drive up their cars Fer greasin’, 1'm the guy That does it—see, I’m black with grease, An’ that’s the reason why. When anybody needs a hand At any little job, Like screwin’ nuts beneath a car, Who does it? I'm the slob! 1 also helps at washin’ cars, When I'm not changin’ tires; An’ everybody cusses me Fer mislaid bolts or pliers. Y'u got to stand fer lots of things When you're just startin’ in To learn your trade; but, hully chee! Just do your best an’ grin. To-day I’m underneath the cars, A-climbin’ toward the top. To-morrow—well, it’s just like this: I plans to own the shop. Stanley R. Huptund. Uncle Fogy’s Philosophy EVERYcircus has the biggest elephant. A white vest and an ‘‘Hon."’ very seldom are. An autobiography is what a biography ought to be. When the flies give out, there will be other things left to swat. Joy riders are not found careering along the straight and narrow way. If you honestly wish to bestow your sympathy on a worthy object, select the husband of a society leader. There may be masculine angels, but it is doubtful if they wear civil-engineer whiskers, —Tom P. Morgan. Regret Dyer— Rownder wishes now that he hadn’t married a widow. Ryer—Why? Dyer—He can’t use any of the old ex- cuses for coming home late. THE TATTLETALE comicbooks.com