Judge — April 24, 1920 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

explained that it was only a make-shift job at best and the whole contraption, with the possible exception of the up- holstery. would have to be dis- integrated But now. Oh, now. Oh, the happy now! We enter the same portals with every assurance of going fora ride. We step on it. It refuses to perform or utters hoarse protests. We do not monkey with it. We do not yo burrowing around the c ment floor paging Jake. We simply ask for the services of Madame Thermes, the Motor Medium. She approaches the machine accompanied by Jake Jake has a box of tools in his hand and an expression of utter unresponsibility upon his face. He is much more blonde than he was in the old days. “Madame Thermes,” you say, politely, “my Dobbin Sensitive Six refuses to move. Will you kindly try your powers upon it?” “The perplexed one has said,” she replies. ‘The humble servant of the stars, will endeavor to read the hid- den signs. It cannot always be done, but perchance the spirits will be kindly disposed _ on this occasion.” “T hope so. I want to go to Burlington,” you say, but Madame waves for silence. “Allow me to strum upon the radiator. Ah.” She then picks a few chords on the honeycomb, her voice wailing like a child’s, a child who is in agony. / “Little Buttercup sees dan- ger ahead. Oh—oh—the— whatever it is that is calling— It is so faint—I think—it is coming—i can almost see the—words—signs—.” Then comes a silence. The perspiration stands out on your own brow. You are having a look in at a world hitherto unknown. Madame is plainly up against it. ‘The coy spirit has hiked off into Stygian impenetra- bility. She suddenly lets out a scream and your heart stops for two beats and a rest,—perhaps half a bar. She goes on. ‘= “Oh, Little Buttercup is calling— Come to Little Buttercup— Can’t you hear me?— Come—oh— It is coming— Little Buttercup is waiting—waiting—wait- ing. Drawn by Axcos MacDo ate Silence again. The Madame’s fingers are clutching frantically. Her arms are outstretched. Then she smiles. A Suet Gai “Yes—Little Buttercup would like to, know—whgt is the matter with the gentleman’s car—it will not go —what is—holding it back— If the spirits are willing. Yes. The—gas—tank—is—empty. Yes—I have it. No—gas. Little Buttercup thanks you.” And so do you. It is wonderful. In the old prosaic days Jake would have spent his week end trying to locate an empty gas tank. Yet the talented and seven times gifted Madame Thermes, with only a few yelps and snorts, goes right to it. Of course she has her peculiarities. For instance, when Little Buttercup has the rostrum, the mechanical trouble is usually remedied easily. But Little Buttercup doesn’t always come. Sometimes it is Chief Wolftooth who comes growling through the medium of Madame Thermes, and then beware. The least that can happen comicbooks.com