Judge — July 22, 1916 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

A CONVERSATION By MYRON ZOBEL s¢DHYLLIS!” “Eleanor!” “It's three years at least since we met last!” “Yes, at the Crockers’. . during our Easter vacation.” “Oh, tell me, dear, tell me, what have you been doing with yourself all this time? You're married, of course. But to whom? I just can't wait to hear! Now begin at the beginning, dear, at the very beginning, and tell me all about it!” “Well, you remember that last Sunday at the Crockers’ how I. . .” Yes, that last Sunday—that was the day my William proposed. Oh, Eleanor, you should see my William—and the twins... . But go on, dear; please go on—I am just dying to hear you.” “Well, as I was saying, that Sun- day...” “Oh, Eleanor! quick! we mustn't stand here in the street this way, we'll be run over! Look! that was Mrs. Shaifty’s machine that just passed us. Such a woman! Clothes and jewelry is all she thinks of—never a moment for her friends; only herself. ‘Shaifty First!’ they call her... . ‘Sunday’ you were saying. ig Oh, yes, Sunday. That that eventful Sunday! Shall I ever forget nd that stuffy littie arbor with the wicker chairs! I had been sitting there . . iting?’ Surely you don’t mean sitting! There was no sitting on those chairs! I remember how William tried to sit on one of them—one of the little flat mushroomy ones—and fell flat on the floor. His flannels were ruined, simply ruined, poor fellow! You can imagine— falling like that on a dirt floor; and all his tea over him, of course. Mr. Crocker fortunately had extra pair which he lent him. Poor William! he didn’t mind the tea so much, which was lukewarm anyway, but the new flannels were too small for him, too tight and too short both—oh, what a sight he was! But, dear, you haven't told me about that Sunday yet, and I'm simply splitting with curiosity. What ever were you doing in the arbor?” ““Doing?’ five minutes alone before . “*Alone!’ Oh, Eleanor, wiat a hostess! Now that you speak of it, too, I remember what Lady de Constance remarked. “Mrs. Crocker,’ she said, ‘pays us no Why, I hadn’t been there attention, no attention whatsoever— we might be Summer boarders, regular paying boarders, for all the care she us!’ By the way, do you know the L Constance? Such a creature! Such exquisite creature! Not beautiful, you know, but gracio: and poised, my dear, poised. . . . Oh, just see, it’s six already and William will be waiting!—oh, my dear, you must excuse me, you really must! I've been so interested in all had to say I simply didn’t dream it was so late; but really, dear, I can’t stop now to hear another word, not another word — 1 know it’s rude to rush off this way with- yllable to you about myself; but, dear, our motor’s being painted and I'll simply have to fly.... Here’s my address! Now do call soon, dear, soon! —terribly glad we met—good-by, good- by—you don’t know how I have enjoyed our conversation!” ~ Waiter!” “You haven't forgotten my chops?” “No, sir. I “remember your face quite well, sir. comicbooks.com