Judge — November 4, 1916 — page 14: what you’re looking at

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

“Yes. I have to do these things for mental relief—and to forget I lack your company.” “Yet you must meet persons—as other women do—who are natural cavalicrs—men who have nothing else to do. I like you to enjoy yourself ’—he looked up to see a strange ex- pression on her face—‘‘and you must permit me to go my way. Let me out of these social inanities. They would put me off my stride. By and by, maybe, ’ll even descend to golf, which some fools think they can play while they are playing the market.”” “But people talk when they sce me about so much without you.” . People talk about everything that doesn’t concern them. Where’s young Bloomer? You used to have him to dinner quite often, and he used to squire you about. Why can’t he still?” ‘ Mrs. Melford turned white and rose. for weeks,” she ventured. “Well, look him up, and please let me attend to my busi- ness.” And Melford, who had wasted valuable time, hurried out to his motor and was away. A month afterward Melford entered a Wall Street buffet early one afternoon in an abstracted state. He recognized no one, although the few about all knew him or of him, He ordered a sazarac cocktail, put a twenty-dollar gold piece on the ulked over to the refectory display, took a sandwich ked out of the place, holding it in his hand. The bar- keeper with a handful of bills looked at him as he disappeared and then at the cocktail, too bewildered to call after him. “Two brokers who saw him pass in the entry abandoned the subject they had been discussing. "here goes a man hard hit,”’ said one. “ You've noted that his pet stock, Orient Mining. slumped this morning?” “Almost to zero,” said the other. ve you been caught in any of his misad- “T haven’t seen him I had a hunch, I guess. No other reasor “He's surely losing his grip. That’s what a wo- man can do even when she’s out of the market. “Yes. Women are to blame for a lot, even when they seem to be bystanders. Isn’t it strange Melford didn’t see his wife’s game before it was too late?” “What do you mean?” “Why, she traveled with that young sport. Bloomer, a long time, afterward pretending, so the women say, that she had broken with him for cause. Pulled the wool over Melford’s eyes. “And then cloped with the fellow! beat it?” Can you Answered “Papa,” asked Rollo, “what do those cannibal head-hunters do with the heads after they get them?” “Make noodle soup, of course. Now it’s time for you to go to bed.” A Problem The Sphinx propounded a problem. “How could America make peace with a nation that couldn't read and write?” she asked. Son— Mother, can I go with pa? BUTTONS UTTONS are small disks of metal, wood, bone or simi- lar materi They make it possible for the human race to go about its business without holding its clothes to- gether with its hands. Buttons were invented shortly after the discovery of trousers. For a time a persistent effort was made to hold up the trousers with small pieces of string, bits of wood and rusty nails. Owing, however, to the structu- ral peculiarities of these articles, it was soon discovered that they invariably lost their efficienc most embarrassing moments for the trousers-wearers. Fishermen were bothered by having their trousers-strings break just as they were about to pull in their largest fish; thus making it necessary for them to let go of the fish and hold up their trousers. After-dinner speakers, just as they were in the midst of their most amusing stories, would feel the rusty nails slip out of their waistbands, and would have to rush for the coat-room in order to save themselves from eternal disgrace. Thus a nervous world was forced to invent buttons. Buttons are of three different sorts: large, medium and small. They all come off with equal facil- and the only thing that saves everybody from being ar- rested for overexposure at some time or other is the fact that nobody ever depends on one button. It is estimated that 36.728,950 fingernails are broken yearly in attempting to mas- ter recalcitrant buttons, and that 142,331,678 buttons come off and are lost annually. People who spend a lot of time groaning about the weather and other unregulatable matters should give a little thought to their buttons and_ rejoice that they have them. —K. L. Roberts Mother—No, Willie, you are too young to listen to your father play golf. Comichooks eta