Judge — September 18, 1920 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

Hopes Tacent Princeton Tiger f The False Wife—and the Alarm! Doris was nervous. E ] 4 I iver since her wedding- day—just eight months before—she had been bothered by something which had never both- {ered her before—a husband. Husbands were such nuisances, anyway, but all of the married [ women seemed to have one of them at least, so I Doris concluded that it was necessary. But now her husband was at work, and Joc was with her! Joe, whom she had passionately ! They were alone i loved for the last eight days! 4 ' in her tiny apartment. She stroked his hair tenderly and called him pet names. He kissed } ter hand. But Doris was nervous! Suppose her husband should return and find them to gether? There was a sudden step in the hall, and then some one fumbled with the lock. Doris was transfixed with terror! She could not move ) =neither could Joe. He could but remain there } by her side and await the consequences. The i door opened and her husband entered, taking in | the situation at a glance. He scowled at Joe I} angrily, and then dashed into the adjoining |} room. When he returned there was something ¢ glistening in his hand. I'm tired of being bothered with this!” he shouted huskily. “This will fix you, you dog!” Harry, don’t! I love him!” shrieked Doris. “Oh, is that all?" he said and stopped sud- denly =xcuse me for interrupting you. I | thought it was another bill collector.” sylcunia Punch Bowl. Penn= WITH THE COLLEGE WITS She—|_vox’t KNow you rrom Avast. He—Werr! Yor A Good Suggestion The modern girl we can not k ‘Tis fatal now to gain this bliss. The rouge and paint and scented powder, That serve to make her beauty louder, Form on her face a deadly chowder Let man beware of this! The face of any fair coquette, Enameled like a bedroom set, Recalls to mind the ancient roon, That paint may camouflage a prune. And beauty viewed beneath the moon Quite often proves a losing bet. What swains will do, is now the question, Since each caress gives indigestion. Why don’t they use some sweet cement, Harmless, of melting flavors blent? Zach kiss would then give nourishment. At least this is a good suggestion. Virginia Reel, Tue Proressor Souvinc an Intricate Prose —Yale Record Lines to the Dining-Room Staff Dowager, who at the hash tray strives, Priestess High of the soup tur Lady in Waiting on forks and kni Coffee-urn Countess and Ice Cr Each of you, drop that pot or pan Leave, for a moment, your separate ways To hear me publish this solemn ban: “Nix on Spaghetti, Milanaise.”” m Queen,— Perhaps I err as regards the nam, For these cylindrical bars of stu What tho I do? It’s all the same; “Spaghetti” expresses it well enough. They are the cause of this tortured sigh, They are the reasons that all my d Are spent in this one despairing cry,— x on Spaghetti, Milanaise. If you give ear to this plea of mine If you delete this unhappy dish— I will once more at Walker dine; Pay for my grub any price you wish. Vegetable hash I shall bravely eat, To fritters of corn I shall sing my praise When gone is the need of this plaintive bleat— “ Nix on spaghetti, Milanaise.”” L'Envoi I've had enough of these pasty clods; Helpless, I’ve put them on many tray Feed me on asphalt—but by the god: NOT on Spaghetti, Milanaise. —Mass. Tech. Voo Doo. ovent To—I"M pReEsseD biF- rerest.—Washington Sun Dodger u aor arco