Judge — January 15, 1921 — page 5: what you’re looking at

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

Drawn by AoW. Warr Tue New Wixo-Sutetp—Try one. Its MADE OF ISINGLASS, PERFECTLY TRANSPARENT, WELL WEIGHTED AND HOOKS ON THE BOTTOM OF CoAT. ALL SIZES. A BOON FOR COLD AND WINDY DAYS. Coffee and Spoof HE floated into the place with a glad, expectant look “Go on,”’ she encouraged. in her eyes. and sat down by one of the little tables »on they were well acquainted. Two just splendid Ameri for two by the wall. She long had sought this can types. She, idealistic and literary. He, materialistic real thing in the way of excitement. To sip.ina real and—dietary. He thought she was a pippin. She felt sure coffee-house, a cup of the historic beverage of the he was an author—or wrote scenarios. She was overflowing old-time wits, wags and wiseacres. It just was dandy to think — with English literature. He knew a little. about it. So Bohemian, so Londonian, so Old New Yorkish “Doesn't it scem,” she exclaimed, “as if the spirits of the She fairly shimmied with anticipations. She was, let us add, Literary Club, Johnson, Garrick, Pope, Goldsmith, and the still a seni others, were right here in our midst?” ER FuLrorp Enters he. A splash of gray, the hoar-frost of an early sea “Tt certainly does,” he re-acted, willing to admit anything. son, gave to his ample black slide-locks a suggestion of dis “And Addison,” she ran on, ‘dear old Addison. Joseph | tinction. He might have been a senator, an actor. or a waiter. Addison. How can we forget him?” | He was neither. He just handled a line of manila wrapping- The man covertly smiled. He felt she had made a literary paper, wholesale and retail, and mostly the latter. He had a blunder, and he hated to correct her. Evena college girl is not quick eye and saw her first. Also he had his nerve with him infallible. But he knew his duty and sat down at the same table. They were face to face, and “Haven't you got Edison's first name wrong?” he asked. he spoke first: “T thought it was Thomas A.” his seat isn’t taken, is it?” Still fascinated by his splendid personality she simply: regis- Not to speak of,” she laughed tered surprise without feeling the real experience. There was no “T mean it wasn’t taken,” he corrected. conscious disillusionment. She answered: “Tt was when you took it,” she quibbled. I didn’t mean the inventor of the phonograph. I meant “Well, it’s taken now, anyway,” he concluded. the writer of the Spectator.” “T's still here, isn’t it?” she trifled. “Excuse me,” he said, with a rising inflection. “I got ‘em “T mean it’s occupied,” he amended. mixed.” “It may be when you sit down,” she deprecated. The spell was on her yet. She spoke of careless old im- He now apperceived her point. He tumbled to the fact that provident Oliver Goldsmith. This was the paper drummer's he had gotten on his feet to hang up his ulster and was talking real opening. Familiar ground. He knew the “Village from the floor. He sat down hoolmaster.”’ and he spoke the piece. It sounded like a lodge “May T have the pleasure of —” he hesitated entertainment, but it didn’t jar her, yet. Anything went in 8 comicbooks.com