Judge — January 14, 1922 — page 30: what you’re looking at

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

cts: ts % FULL QUART of the most delicious non- alcoholic Cordial is made with the contents of each of these little bottles. From Nancy, France, in 25 flavors. Use the fruit flavors for pudding sauces. “Original Recipes” —our new booklet, sent free upon request. Pinkie Doodle’s Proposals (Continued from page 3) vitriols. “It has been in pawn for thirty years, awaiting the right girl.” “Oh, then, it must be immensely valuable!” cried Pinkie. “Why, I hocked my second-best corset once, and when I got it out, after a few months, it cost a fortune. Really? Is it really for me?” “If you will marry me, or at least be my wife.” “It’s rather too hot to be married to-day,” said Pinkie, regretfully, “but some time next week, perhaps, if you don’t have a relapse. And I'll keep this darling ring as security, shall I? But now I must go. You see my father has an awful attack of freckles, and I must go home to massage his nose.” < + #F & Pinkie had scarce time to make her five o’clock date. But, considering that Mr. Boodlebag, in answer to her adver- tisement in a Chicago matrimonial gazette, was coming to town on pur- pose to marry her up, she didn’t want to miss him. A temporary blonde of overweening lovelitude, she had de- scribed herself, with a figure like $1,000- 000, and high-voltage eyes that shot four-foot violet sparks. He said he Cuticura Soap —— AND OINTMENT —— An _ impecu- nious sculp- tor was just finishing his masterpiece when he saw Op- portunity and set out to catch him. While he was gone looked like Carpentier, but could speak more English, although he was from Texas, where he raised oil. Well, there he was at the rendezvous, bless his heart, sitting on the steps of St. Patrick’s cathedral under a white umbrella! “George!” she cried. “Luther.” She glanced at his side whiskers. They were real—not merely glued on. “Yes, it would be Luther, of course! I knew you by that Texasy odor, and the fried egg on your shirt front.” He moved over for her to sit down. “Well, as per my favor of the 33d inst., I love you, and I can prove it.” How?” Pinkie was sometimes like that—incredible. Poker had taught her to doubt everybody, even policemen. “Why, I brought the ring—all ready.” “Oh!” she screamed, “isn’t it noble! , it’s practically a diamond, isn’t And now her fourth finger was worth at least $375 plus luxury tax. “And now for dinner—and a few as- sorted kisses!” “Oh, wouldn’t that be too expen- sive?” said Pinkie, wistfully. “We must begin to economize, you know, now we're signed up. And I can’t sit on these cold steps much longer, or T'll have hangnails. Besides, my poor brother is suffering from hydrophobia, and I have to be home to hear him bark. Suppose we call it a day, and we'll talk over the wedding after you go back to Texas.” * 8 & It was so hot in the Chinese restau- rant that the chop-suey was perspiring freely. Pinkie sat down at a porphyry- topped table up to her chin, and ordered “Shay, are you the Judge that’s givii bucks for smilin’ faces?” a crazy man stole the statue. so disgusted our hero that he had his where he is hair cut and doing very This went into well. We the shoe thank you! business, Don Yew Get Gai—aromatic mice, stewed in castor oil, with water beetles and hickory sprouts. Hardly had she begun on her dessert of crystallized wasps’ nests, when a large, rectangular man walked in—sat down beside her. He was her husband. “Well, kid, how’d you make out?” “So-so.” Pinkie emptied three rings out of her bag. Mr. Doodle inspected them carefully through the bottom of a tumbler, “H’m! One of ’em’s Portuguese glass. Well, we can’t get a Rolls- Royce on this haul, I guess.” “And we'll need it,” said Pinkie. “I think that Texan packs a gun. Sup- pose we try Cleveland to-morrow. I have some good prospects there. I’ve had a rather hot correspondence with a corn-doctor. He looks good to me.” “And, honey, you certainly look pretty good to me!” At which Pinkie, who had denied herself all sweets that day, trying to reduce, now cast all discretion to the winds, and indulged in a half-dozen of the richest, gooiest, fattest kisses that her husband could possibly produce. GOOD AT THE GAME “A vamp is an old fireman, isn’t ne, dad?” “Yes, my boy, and even a little vamp these days knows how to turn her hose on you.” a thousand comicbooks.com