Judge — August 30, 1919 — page 31: what you’re looking at

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

4 Drwen by Pron Rear ing typist, who pounded on innocently, gig gfing and happily transposing her fs and ph’s. The general manager kept on You, Miss Claney, evidently know as much about the busi Ido, and,” whimsically. “perhaps a bit ‘Therefore. 1 propose to elect. you gen Little Nemo ness as more. eral manager, ad interim, of the Suspender Company.” “Oh, thank you, Mr. Jitney!” head stenographer, flushing. “And,” continued the general manager, “as tomorrow is the first of the month, you may start then. Take over my desk, here, and con duct yourself accordingly.” “Oh, thank you, Mr. Jitney!” “And have you any suggestions to make?” “Yes; one, Mr. Jitney,” the head stenog. rapher hurried to comply. “IL think we should get rid of that silly Miss Pritti, over there. she advised in lowered tones. “All she thinks of is clothes and movies. She's been here three months, and hasn‘t done a thing but make fools of the men.” “Very well “I've been thinking of that myself all, Miss Clancy. Good morning.” “Good morning, Mr. Jitney. And thank 1 again.” She arose and flowed sinuously down the aisle. The next morning came bright and mornings have been in the habit of doing for some time past. Miss Clancy, busy at her new desk, pretended not to sce the looks of awe sent her by the other workers as they tiptoed coyly past. She sent an appraising glance to Miss Pritti’s chair; vacant, as usual. But this morning a graceful bow of white satin ornamented its oaken back. rejoiced the * agreed the general manager That'll be rly, as Hhids Tuose Horerun Newtyweps But here's ‘‘In My Garden” By Victor Davirs HE moon foods my garden with doacieg splendor. The hyacinths end the gladi- olas are bathed in the silver glow, cross the heavy-scented air comes the soft, musical laugh of a woman. It thrills me! \ moon, a garden, and a beautiful. woman Could man desire more? Deep midst. the lilies swaying in the warm breeze. close by the shimmery pool there she Drawn by J.K. Bay sss “What's your favorite tree? ” “ Yew, dear.” un a place they looked at” is laughing. For all the world like a spirit. Her voice trembles back to me It is the very soul of muste, the liltin laughter sets my brain and heart agog. Can I not steal closer, and perchance steal a kiss or two? I cautiously pick my way through the un- pitying rose-bushes, one far more unkind than the rest bites deep into my ankle. Gadzooks! When I look up a ing sprite is not alone, someone in uniform is tin, the danc- hy her side. Ah! An officer from France, Jaden with laurels, and on the alert for new ones; it depresses me. for I thought to get a stolen kiss. At any rate. soldier loves. Will he attempt the rough, uncouth speech: of the front to gain his objective; or will he, the true lover, revert to type? \ few steps, and I shall know But before I reach them, the officer removes his cap, and enfolds the sylvan deity in his khaki embrace. My chauffeur! And the roguish scullery maid, whom I thought I could trust with my affections, ‘Tomorrow: she will be packed up and sent off. ogether the couple tum, and walk up the graveled path into my astounded arms. Ye Gods! It is my wife! We grope spasmodically for words, and scat- ter to the winds. In the morning she will place her hands on my shoulders, and tell me that she must motor to the mountains for a rest. And she shall go; for the new chauffeur will be here at nine. I shall hear how the stalwart COmMclOoks ee) om + Een Settee 1 Beceem aed