Judge — November 10, 1917 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

“The Kaiser has distributed 2,500,000 iron crosses.” ment of six dozen guaranteed fresh eggs, parcel post prepaid, at twenty cents a dozen; eggs to reach you every Saturday morning. The response was the first acceptance by wire Mr. Smugg had ever received from his publisher. Mr. Smugg decided not to permit his servant to have any- thing to do with the chickens. Chickens being American birds, a man from Shanghai or Cochin China could not be expected to know much about them. It would be more patriotic for him to attend to their wants himself. At eleven next morning Mr. Smugg decided to collect the eggs. ‘‘From the noise they’ve been making some of them must have laid twice by now,” he mused. But he found not an egg. Next day his search was again fruitless (henfruitless) and he was reluctantly compelled to suspect his neighbors. The next day he must make first shipment on the standing order. He bought six dozen eggs at fdrty cents a dozen, six con- tainers at fifteen cents each, and paid six cents a dozen postage. Mr. Smugg was noted for not asking advice, but his chickens had him sorely puzzled. Twice he kept watch all night for early morning egg thieves. He bought all the poultry remedies and patent foods to be found in Greenwold and put china eggs in every nest, but his pedigreed fowls refused to take the hint. They were a draggled, sorry-looking lot, and were shedding feathers alarmingly. The one big rooster strutted about the henyard crowing lustily, but all the other chickens spent most of their time cowering in the chickenhouse. Mr. Kelly, nearest neighbor on the south, met Mr. Smugg on the street and tried to start a con’ ation in friendly fashion. “T see you've got some chickens,” he began. “That's the trouble with this town,” snapped Mr. Smugg. “People see too much.” Colonel Hart, Mr. Layne and Mr. Vandiver, other neigh- bors, made similar advances and met similar rebufis, The chickens were a subject Mr. Smugg did not wish to discuss. “Is that all? They must be running short of iron!” But when four weeks went by and four lots of purchased eggs had been sent to his friends in the city, and still not one egg had been found in the Smugg henhouse, Mr. Smugg ordered a car and drove to Hazel Grove Poultry Farm. It was a business- like place, and his order was found on file and placed before him. It read: Deliver to me at once 1 cock and 15 cockerels, Check enclosed- G. BrarmuwartE Sauce. “Yes, that’s it,” said Mr. Smugg. ‘One cock—that’s a rooster, isn’t it?—and fifteen cockerels—they’re female roosters, aren’t they?” “Lord, no!” young rooste: Next day Mr. Kelly, Colonel Hart, Mr. Layne, Mr. Van- diver and several other neighbors of Mr. Smugg received invita- tions which read as follows: Mr. G, Braithwaite Smugg desires to apologize to his neighbors for being an all-round cad and requests your presence at a Fried Chicken Dinner Thursday Evening, the Twenty-fourth. ’ snorted the disgusted poultryman. ‘‘They’re : — = 0 pt Private Quacks—Gosh! I'mcertainly glad I got in on this rainbow division. comicbooks.com