Judge — September 20, 1924 — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

Oprinust—Oh, boy, what luck—I’ve got another shell left! Over the Banisters I Top Angela when we took the apart- ment that we ought to have a reflect- ing mirror downstairs in the vestibule, so as to see who it was at the door. I knew we should have trouble sooner or later, letting in people at random. “Oh, but it’s jolly to push this little button way up here and set something clicking way down there,” said Angela. “And then there’s all the fun of deciding who it is as they come upstairs.” I took the opportunity to remind An- gela of this yesterday when the buzzer rang at half past six and the dinner party was at seven. I think I even went so far as to recall what she said word for word. “And shall I push the little button?” I inquired with beautiful sarcasm. “Please!” shrieked Angela. She sat down and fanned herself with her apron. “Oh, look at us! Look at the room! Whatever shall we do?” “We could have all the fun of deciding who it is as they come upstairs,” I went on triumphantly. “As if we had any other room in this little apartment to put them in!” moaned Angela. “The idea of coming a half hour early!” “We might even have a sort of guessing contest as they walk up the five flights,” I continued nastily. “I'll guess that it’s Mrs. de Courcey.” Angela shuddered. “Well, we have got to do something,” I announced, as the buzzer rang again “Wait!” cried Angela. She looked around desperately. “If I only knew which one it was. Helena wouldn’t mind waiting in here, but Mr. Franklyn—do you think it could be Mr. Franklyn? Or Aunt Louise?” I was determined to milk the situation dry. “Of course, if we had our reflecting mirror, now—” I began. “Push it!” said Angela. “Push what? The buzzer. We can’t leave them standing down there a whole half-hour. At a pinch, they could wait out in the hall.” “All right, here goes.” I pushed. “Suppose it isn’t one of the guests,” I suggested helpfully, as we waited for the visitor to start climbing. Angela gasped. “It might be the Rev. Duncan! He said he'd call—heavens, he said he'd call Thursday, I remember now. Or wait a bit, was it “Do you suppose it could be Cousin Carrie? She’s been planning to come.” “And we'll have to ask her to + of course. And she'll know she is merely being asked to be polite, and she'll be un- comfortable and chilly all evening—” We peered over the banisters together. “Tt isn’t either Cousin Carrie or Mrs. “Oh, boy! With this set I oughta pick up that speech by the Prince of Whales!” 26 “That is inctly a man’s elbow.” ne Rev. Duncan!” choked Angela, looking about wildly. “Plenty of time, dear. He still has four flights. Besides, 1 don’t think it is Duncan. There’s something not quite Duncanish about that elbow.” “Mr. Franklyn, then! What on earth shall we do with Mr. Franklyn? Can't you take him for a walk?” “Just after he’s arrived? He'd think we were trying to get rid of him, and he'd work up a frightful appetite. Cheer up; it may be only Willie Moore.” “Willie is always late. No, I’m positive it’s Mr. Franklyn. And the table isn't even set; and we can’t lock him in the bathroom. Oh, do something!” she wept “Strange, very strange!” I muttered peering over the balustrade. “What's so strange?” “That old Mr. Franklyn should come to a dinner party dressed in overalls Didn't you write ‘formal’ on the invita- tions?” “I—never—saw that man—before said Angela, staring down the ‘stairs fascinated. A little man with a black satchel toiled up the last flight and stood before us puffing. “Please’m, I'll have to disturb ye,” he smiled, ‘touching his hat. “I’m the fumigating man, and I’ve orders to start on this apartment at once.” Corey Ford Airing One’s Views Once a young widow named Clare Loved an aeroplane-fan millionaire. “My next wedding will be Ina biplane,” said she, “But my plans are a bit in the air.” Lucia Trent comicbooks.com