Judge — March 4, 1922 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

Drawn by GarpNeR REA. Tuppins, whose eighteenth proposal has just been refused, gives way to an irresistible impulse. Morning By Katherine Negley AZEL ROSE called Bob three times before he would get up, then of course he had to hurry to get ready for the office, and when he put on his socks, he found a hole in the heel of one. Hazel Rose left the breakfast to get him his other pair of brown ones and the toast burned, the coffee boiled over and the bacon got too crisp. Bob said sarcastically that it was a nice breakfast for a man to start out on, and he thought it was a wife’s place to make the home comfortable. Hazel Rose lost her temper at this point. She told Bob she had a com- fortable home if she had only stayed there and that all her friends who had gone into business had things easier than she had them since she was married. Bob said it was not too late for ma- trimonial bonds were not very binding these days, and Hazel asked him if he meant that was his idea, and added she had always suspected that new stenog- rapher. Bob told her to leave the stenog- rapher out of it for she was a nice girl and the cousin of the junior partner, then he said if she wanted to bring personalities into the conversation, why not include Tommy, who loved Hazel Rose before she was married and still hovered around more or less. Hazel Rose said she might have done better if she had married Tommy, . and Bob said it was not too late, then went out, slamming the door after him. The office force knew better than to cross Bob all morning. He clipped his telephone conversations and refused to see some bores who called. In the afternoon, conditions were not much better, but on his way home at night he bought a large bunch of violets and theater tickets for the evening. Hazel Rose cried all morning, but in the afternoon she baked a lemon pie. Bob liked lemon pie better than any- thing else. She planned the dinner so as to have only the things he liked best, and she dressed in the frock he admired the most. So everything was just the same as ever, only better. They had been at the Smiths the evening before, and Welsh rabbit and coffee are not the best things in the world to eat at mid- night, especially when one has to get up in the morning. The Dining-room Gallery By Elsie B. Driggs wrt dining room would be com- plete Without the English country seat. Our appetites with pleasure whetting, To baying hounds and chairs upset- ting. The drooping fowl upon the wall Is fraught with great appeal to all. No wonder it makes such demand Upon our salivary gland. And then the ever-present fish Inanimate upon the dish, Has scaled the heights of popularity With undisputed solidarity. But most of all -I like the fruit Depicted by the mind astute, Who knows our interest to heighten Expecting daily it will ripen. 1 think the final choice will be A portrait sketch of Burgundy, Extinct in hotel and emporium, With wreath entitled—In Memoriam. ENOUGH TO MAKE A DOG MAD Terrier—I had to give up burying bones. Poodle—Touch of rheumatism? “Impaired memory. I couldn’t re- member where I buried them.” QUESTION If you can’t be good, do good, or make good, what’s the use of living? An Upper Cut. comicbooks.com