Judge — September 6, 1919 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

life, Angela was in a quandary—hardly a proper cos- tume in which to receive gentlemen at seven a.m. She felt it quite too early to reveal the bare facts of her simple tile. Luckily, however, unless the gentleman under the bed had a periscope she was comparatively safe from observation, except for her feet. They were superlatively safe, for, having water on the knees, Angie always wore rubber boots to bed. In the twinkling of an ear she had disguised her true self in an inveterate green kimono, and she was ready to explore the fastnesses of the hall bed- room. But Angela was proud, though practical. Would she stoop to coax him forth? Not she. She lay flat on her tum. The poor girl who had had few opportunities in her life to pull a man’s leg now eagerly embraced the opportunity and a pair of brilliant trousers. Out they came, and a body, several arms and the grin with them. But the excitement was too great for a girl already weakened by hang- nails, and for a time she feared that she would be prostrated by the violent attack of gooseflesh she now enjoyed. The foregoing events occurred in far less time than it has taken me to tell them; but, you see, they were ina hurry. I am not. Her visitor, for such, upon investigation, he proved to be, wore an officer's uniform. If he were not a colonel he was at least a nut. Notwithstanding the fact that bright red trousers and cast iron collars are not being worn with blue embroidered jackets this season, he seemed to Angie to be a gentleman. True, he wore no shoes, but so long as he kept two feet away from her she didn’t mind. The elegant and refined way in which he sucked a tube of tooth paste she offered him, showed careful breeding; and, when he accepted the cold cream, Angie was pleased to observe that he did not eat it with his fingers. He used his mouth, with the occasional aid of a few toes and a shoe horn to get out the very last of it. This at last finished, Angie presented him with a cigar. It was practically a new one, never having been smoked but once. But talk he simply would not. He was as devoid of conversation as an American Indian having his tonsils filled. What cared Angela! Blissfully she squatted on her single-barrelled bed; and, as he idly dipped her switch in the mucilage and smiled up sym- pathetically, she told her new-found friend of her trials and convictions at the Arti- ficial Egg factory where she now worked; and how, every day, when the eggs were shelled, she aged them for the market, escorting the youngand giddy ones to public banquets and musical comedies to give “You Swart At Least He Was Hanpsome to AN Not Take Him From Me,” Sue Waited them that world-weary flavor which made them feel so thoroughly at home on a slice of fried restaurant ham. Yes, for the first time that day Angie was falling in love. Cast no aspirin upon her, dear reader. She had no mother to guide her and caution her never to marry a man who didn’t keep a Ford and a butler. She was only a poor working girl into whose life there had come an unexpected gleam of raspberry, whose little heart was tngling, like a telephone bell ringing, ringing the wrong number. She was fond and fool- ish and freckled; and such, be- loved brethren, are ever the victims of the bounder and the book-agent. Thus endeth the First Lesson. But we are getting away from the handsome stranger, some- thing which Angie certainly was not. She had not only fallen in love, but into his arms. He seemed to take her entrée as a matter of course, and said nothing in some strange guttural language. But, by the twitching of his huge Transylvanian cars, Angie aware that he was running a_ temperature. For several minutes nobody breathed in the room. Outside, the little birds on the telegraph wires looked in at the moving picture and smiled at one another. Some even wept. Then they flew down into the street and simply raved over a stale pretzel, ten days dead. That just shows how shallow and unfeeling birds are. They don’t really care. But if I don’t separate my two lovers pretty quickly, the infuriated man charging upstairs certainly will. For his charges are getting higher and higher; and he is now at the top floor. * * * was . . . . As Angie came up for air she saw, standing in and about the doorway a human Hindenburg, as ugly as a restaurant waiter presenting a check for $17.75. He was ina fury and a plaid suit. “Mungo, come here!” His master's voice. Angela’s sweetheart shrivelled like a quail on toast. For a moment, as he stood there, his small brown eyes shining like half-gone coughdrops, she thought he would prove himself a man. Her hero! But, catching sight of a slender graceful form concealed behind the intruder, his devotion began to bag at the knees, and finally, tempted beyond his appetite, he surrendered. A pang of jealousy, hot as a Mohammedan hell, smote Angela. So she had a rival—and, of course, a blonde! One of the only gents she had ever loved had left her for a banana. Not even for a red one, either, just an ordinary yellow three-for-ten! How terribly men’s passions could sway them Yet she would not give him up; she could not. “ You shall not take him from me,” she