Judge — September 22, 1917 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

est Princess, ‘and my father, the wicked King Convention, keeps me locked up in the Castle and never allows me to play with Princes.” “A fig for your father and all your ugly sisters,” said the Cava- lier. “You see, I am here.” “To rescue me?” asked AA the Youngest Princess. a “For no other pur- is pose,” declared the Cava- ce lier solemnly. & “Then why don’t you begin,” she queried. “T am thinking,” said the Cavalier. “Of me?” she said softly. “Of you,” he admitted, “and of the end of the story “What is the end of the story?” ed the Youngest Princess. ter I have taken you away from your detestable relatives,” he explained, “T must carry you to my own castle, and there, of course, we shall have to live happily ever after. They all do, you know.” The Youngest Princess tossed her curls. “And do you think that would be so very difficult?” she asked. “T was thinking,” he answered, “that it would be entirely too easy. May I smoke?” “Of course, you poor man, wait a moment.” She drew a hairpin from be- neath her cap and with it tore a jagged hole in the curtain of his mask. Her fin- gers touched his face in the process— cool, fragrant fingers. “Thank you, most considerate of Princesses,” he said. In the glare of the match two blue eyes smiled at him. The Cavalier was partial to blue. He sank back against the cush- ions, his sword upright between his knees. Now to get back to our rescue,” he said, “how does one procce “What a question, from a Prince!” she laughed. “An inexperienced Prince,” he cor- rected. “True,” she admitted, “then attend. First you must grasp your sword like REGULATING TOY TRAFFIC this!” She curled her slender fingers about the hilt. “TI see,” said the Cavalier, and he obeyed so promptly that his hand im- prisoned hers. She did not seek to free it. “You are learning,” she said, “you have killed my wicked fathe: am a willing pupil,” he assured her. “Can't you do any rescuing by your- self?” she pouted. “T can try!” said the Cavalier. An Irish lace baby cap sank against his gold-embroidered cloak. “Ralph, you old stupid,” said the Youngest Princess, “I suspected you from the first and I knew you for certain as soon as I felt your silly little mustache. You know perfectly well who I am, confess “Of course, I do!” declared the Cava- lier. But his name was Billy—and he didn’t. Phyllis Phyllis thus I spake: “Your name Suggests to me alluring things,— Dryads that dance on upland lawns, And the blithe caperings of fauns, And naiads white in woodland springs!” To Phyllis thus I spake: ‘Your name Means glamour and romance to me,— Lovers that stray beneath the moon, And nightingales that sing in tune Adown the dales of Arcady!”” But Phyllis dear, I grieve to say, To cool the ardor of my flame, Drew herself up “divinely tall,” And made a face!— Twas not at all In keeping with her Grecian name! —Clinton Scollard. A Veterans’ Reunion Uncle Tom’s Cabin recently played at East Lynn, Mass. ona] DOING HIS UTMOST Herr Bratwurst, having failed in an attempt to blow up the aqueduct, returns home and ruthlessly turns on both kitchen faucets. comicbooks.com