Judge — September 3, 1921 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

Drawn by Joun Conacuen. Angler—On, WILLIAM! MISSIVE IN IT. PULL OVER TOWARDS THAT BOTTLE. THERE MIGHT BE—YOU Boatman—NO SUCH LUCK, SIR; NOT A TASTE, NOT TH’ SMELL 0° ONE! he was, well-combed and healthy. He was, as he explained with a pencilled diagram on the back of an old envelope, the owner of the Thun- derbolt Building. The two soon be- came friends. Why not? Wasn’t he rich and she beautiful? It was the old, old story; old, but always new and fresh—sometimes too fresh. “Hot day, isn’t it?” How simply romance begins! At first you can hardly tell it from an Ibsen tragedy. “I say,” he went on, “I have a bottle of ginger pop here. Have some?” And he drew from his hip pocket a flask of the good old—oh, how Susie’s heart kicked! Yet for a while she refused, strug- gling with all the strength of her new-laid resolve against temptation. Susie wanted to be good and pure— but then, one little drink wouldn’t hurt, would it, especially when it was so warm? If there had been ice in it, now, of course that would be dif- ferent. Or a lemon—Susie felt then that it would have been really wicked. young, But—ginger pop! And the old mad- ness came over her—the silk stock- ings, the summer furs, the lip stick, the $18 suede shoes, the one-step— and all the other deviltries they know so little about in Southern } i Ginger pop! And Susie fell. * * * * * Once inside his limousine, and Susie was again a New Yorker, even in her old calico dress. A man to call out the very worst in her nature, he was, and yet she was going to marry him. But now, with the taste of that ginger pop in her back teeth, she would have married anyone who would satisfy the cravings of her re- awakened appetite. Degraded by a short stop at the first drug store for a lemon teaser, her conscience still further blunted a little further on by a marshmallow mess, Susie Sipley was now lost to all shame. Just one of a million pretty girls, she was, addicts to the drugstore habit. You can’t cure them. “Darling,” said Susie, after they were married, “there’s only one thing more I want to be lusciously happy.” NEVER CAN TELL, YOU KNOW THERE MIGHT BF A “What is it, sweetie?—a root beer swizzle, or a banana hash?” “T want you,” she said, “to throw that darned old cow off the roof of the Thunderbolt Building, and then fire my father. I’m going to fit up the place as a roof garden, with four- teen soda fountains!” In Perspective By MINNA IRVING a not the charming summer girl “ That thrills him with delight, Nor does it trouble him at all That money now is tight. He dons his oldest coat and cap And takes a can of bait, And casts his line and in the boat He sits, content to wait. He ambles home at sundown with A solitary prize Reposing in the basket, lo! A bass of modest size. But after it is fried and served And but a memory glowing, For years to come that little bass Behold! will keep on growing. comicbooks.com