Judge — December 1, 1917 — page 17: what you’re looking at

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

CHRISTMAS MORNING, SOMEWHERE IN FRANCE American sentry—Who goes there? the countersign.” plains before I can walk without this furniture.” He tapped his supports contemptuously. “The main danger of this luxury lies in its softening influ- ence,” said Cavendish. “Jove! Think of the lads out there fight- ing winter as well as the Huns! I wonder if... By the way, who could have imagined we should be here on Christmas Day? The blessed ones at home have I'm going up and explore fter a bit. Ul warrant it’s filled with sweets— jam, marmalade, and like goodies—and tins of tobacco, and no knowing how many bundles of fags. And I wish you chaps to help me dispose of the cheer.” He lighted a cigarette and passed his case to Thresher, with a secondary motion toward Sterling. “Pardon, old chap! 1 forgot! But you'll come in for it later.” “Don’t think you're exclusive with holiday tokens, old chap!” 1 Thresher. “Our temporary Quartermaster—that little Frenchman—has gone for my box. We'll examine the lot and divide up where one or another is lacking. I wonder if you've heard from ?” This to Sterling, whose com- munications to his companions, where they called for more than a nod or a gesture, were made with pencil and paper. He wrote ad and passed it to Thresher: but he hasn’t yet shown.” s Another pat American- ism! Never mind, old chap! We've cnough for three!” “T beg your pardon, gentlemen \ very attractive young woman stood in the doorway. “I've come to take Licutenant Sterling's temperature.” hown! HOW A SILK HAT FEELS ON Santa Claus—Friend. “Merry Christmas.” » good manners would sanction “Halt friend, and give “Pass friend—All’s well.” ‘The three men rose with a movement as nearly simultancous as Thresher’s handicap would permit. “That new charmer!” Thresher whispered to Sterling. ‘You're in luck!” Then to the young woman, as he pushed Sterling forward, “This, madam, is Lieutenant Sterling.” Sterling, clumsily for a man of natural grace, moved to a point of vantage, looking diffidently at the young woman, who, coloring deeply, advanced to him and with thermometer and watch set about her duty. Thresher, nudging Cavendish, who had settled again into his chair, pulled from his pocket a branch of mistletoe, affixed it to his cane, and held it over the young woman’s head, mean- while winking at Sterling exasperatingly. As the nurse’s duty was done the mistletoe fell between her and Sterling, and Cavendish and Thresher laughed as loudly as Sterling and the young woman. were confused. Then something happened. The young woman put her arms about Sterling and kissed him, all unmindful of witnesses, and Sterling went to the door with her and whispered something, placing a hand on her caressingly as she retired. “Oh, I say, old chap!” said Cavendish, “aren't you a bit swift?” “Swift!” exclaimed Thresher, “he Sterling picked up his pad and wrot “You'll not mind it, [know. The lady happens to be Mrs. Sterling.” a regular typhoon! FIFTH AVENUE TODAY comicbooks.com