Judge, 1920-10-30 · page 5 of 32
Judge — October 30, 1920 — page 5: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Analysis of "Put Yourself in the Poor Girl's Place" This page presents a serialized thriller story by Beecher Hilton, not political satire. The cartoon at top, titled "The Poison and the Antidote," depicts a man at a ballot box speaking with a woman—likely contrasting corrupting influences (poison) with corrective ones (antidote) in voting contexts. The story itself follows Peachetta McMun, a servant girl experiencing supernatural horror: mysterious voices, bloodhounds, and a sinister male figure (Larry Coker, described as a "rakish dope-fiend") emerging from darkness. The narrative emphasizes her helplessness and fear, designed to create suspense for readers. The "up-to-the-minute thriller" format reflects early 1900s popular entertainment mixing melodrama with gothic elements, targeting readers seeking sensational serialized fiction.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
a, aa See Tue Poison Axo Tue Awtipore Put Yourself in the Poor Girl’s Place An Up-to-the-Minute Thriller By Beecu Hirrox CHAPTER I Would She Do It? S Peachetta McMunn raised herself on one dimpled elbow, her robe-den-we of priceless lace fell from her ivory neck and shoulders. So marvelously seductive was the sight revealed, that her maid Joli, murmured “Mon Der!” and nearly swoone | Her mistress’s flute-like voice restored her “Have you hermetically sealed all the windows?” “We, mam’zelle.” “Then bar both doors on the outside and bid James loos the bloodhounds. I shall not need you again.” Touching a button that plunged the room into darkness. Peachetta slid luxuriously into the silken folds of her bed. “If only,” she whispered, “if only I may rest tonight! To. morrow, something tells me, I must wed Lord Noodlehed although I detest him so. Why must I doit?) Ah, why?” CHAPTER I She Had To Do It UST as the hall clock boomed out the hour of 2.22 A. M ~“ Peachetta awoke with a start that nearly proved her finish. Her heart beat like a jazz-drum. Stifling a cry, she switched on the lights. She was still alone in her sealed chamber, but something was insistently calling her. That Voice! Would nothing she s could do shut it out? It seemed to call her, just as of yore. and even before yore, to steal from the house and do a wanton dance on the sward. Through cemented windows and barred doors to steal? What irony! And to fling both modesty and laces to the breeze? And she not wanton to! She wouldn't and she couldn’t—but ske must! The room grew supernaturally dark. In another moment Peachetta found herself upon the front porch of the mansion. The night wind stirred her filmy abbreviations. Below her the bloodhounds noiselessly circled the house, like a living merry- go-round. How could she pass them? Yet the Voice kept urging her on! Without knowing how it happened, she sud- denly found herself whirling away in an elfin dance, where the moonlight flooded a bare spot in the quiet woodland “Dance!” something seemed to cry within her. “Dance till you're aflame with the autumn night and youth and beauty! Dance till the very trees bend feverishly toward yout” How she hated it all! But she had fo do it! CHAPTER IL Who Saw Her Do It? UDDENLY, from the blackness of the trees and into the “ bright moonlight, crept a sinister figure,—a man whose staring eyes were red with unholy passion, who licked his lips feverishly, and who stopped to rub his arm nervously, It was none other than Larry Coker, the rakish dope-fiend! And comicbooks.com