Judge — June 6, 1925 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

spigot. Nothing whatsoever hap- pened. “There is undoubtedly one of several things the matter,” I de- cided. “It may be there is a cork in the nozzl T'll see what I can do with this end of the hose, and you look about meantime for kinks.” Now, we have talked it all over many’s the time since, but we have never been able to decide whether Angela loosened the kink first or I fixed the nozzle. Angela says she had just straightened out a twist in the hose and then she looked up and oh, my dear! there Twas. For my own part I had a little trouble sce- ing for several minutes, and by the time I blinked the rr out of my eyes and looked about, the hose was flailing the lawn violently,and Angela was seated on the kitchen steps stuff- ing her handkerchief into her mouth. ery, very funny,” I remarked grimly, pulling at my clammy shirt. “Oh, rery funn me break my leg “No, but, m Angela, “I just there you were! 1 should see <I up and- I sprayed the garden without for a moment. Then the ater gasped and stopped. Get off the hose! 1 ea “Tm not on your hose | “Then tell that—then pl the cook to stop: using th I said, “or I'M never get done. Oddly enough, 1 never did. It seems that just as I directed the water onto the lilac bush between our yard and Simpkins’ next door, there was a terrified scream, and a moment later a worsted bear and Mr. Simpkins’ little girl came boiling out on the flood, and ran indoors in hysteri Mr. Simpkins was not very nice about it. He went so far as to admit that I probably hadn't watered his little girl on purpose, but that, good lord! couldn't I use my head? “If any,” he added. “Never mind,” I told Angela she dragged me away. “I got i good crack about how his garden | looked, and why didn’t he take care of it like I was? “IT know, dear,” said Angela. “Hurry up, now “T guess that held him awhile.” I added, mollified. said Ange “You'd bet- and finish watering.” I stopped suddenly. is this great hurry to finish watering the garden?” “So you won't get drenched,” re- plied Ange’ “Look at the sky. It'll be pouring in five minute: | Corey Ford Who owns the telephone? For seven carefree years young John Graves worked in the car shops at Orenville, spending his dollars as fast as he earned them. Soon after his promotion to foreman, he was married and moved to a little white house on Orchard Avenue. Life was happier than ever, but spare dollars were not more plentiful, especially after a third member was added to the family. Then came a day when the plant superintendent showed John the wisdom of saving a part of his earnings, for the satisfaction it would bring, and for protection against emer- gencies and old age. He and his young wife, for the first time, learned the difficult art of economy, and finally they came to know the joys of saving and of safe investment. Today John Graves, and many thousands like him, own the stock of the American Telephone and Telegraph Com- pany. This company is owned by more people than any other, and the great majority of its owners—laborers, clerks, housewives, business men and others—have bought it with their savings. A\s its business has grown, the number of its shareholders has increased until now one out of every 45 telephone subscribers is also a stockholder. AMERICAN TELEPHONE AND TELEGRAPH COM AND ASSOCIATED COMPANIES BELL SYSTEM One Policy, One System, Universal Service PANY Mororist—Curse the luck! It's one of that new race of super-pede trians, capable of doing serenty miles an hour! s- 23 comicbooks.com