Judge — April 3, 1926 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

S — G Ea Meenceenis - = See The most unfortunate amateur gardener yet on record is the man in a suburb of Los Angeles, whose next door neighbor raises ostriches. The Homecoming! usk had fallen when Jones turned into that so well-remembered little suburban street, and his heart beats quickened when he sighted the familiar silhouette of one certain little detached house half-way down on the other side. His house! His! Ah! Could he ever forget it! Could he ever forget those payments! And to think it was an exact six years this very night since he had left this hallowed spot! Six years!) And what years they had been! Why, oh, why, he asked himself, as ev tride took him nearer, why, oh, why, had he not communicated with her during this time? Why had he let such a foolish decision control him? And why had he not even apprised her of his homecoming? Jones was very near now. There were no lights in the front, he noted. But his angle of vision permitted a view of the side rear windows. They were lighted! Without doubt she was in the kitchen—preparing the evening meal! A mist came to Jones’ eyes as he recalled that the hour was the very one at which he used to return each night for supper—or dinner, as they used to call it—entering, as he pro- posed to do now, by that same dear little back door! As he left the sidewalk, and turned up the path at the side of the house, his heart beat so fast that it nearly “Pass, friend. and pick it up again.” I ain't got the heart to make you drop all that junk stopped. He almost choked with emotion. Just one peep through the window before he entered! One little peep! Just as he used to do in those dear old days! Ah! That window! Could he ever forget it! Could he ever for- get how he used to clean it! Nose to the pane, he peered within. One swift glance was sufficient. It showed him all that was necessary for him to know. And he knew he could never go back. Yes. She was still there. But in her hand she held—and could he ever forget it!—the same old can opener, and the same old brand of canned salmon. The same old supper! Could he ever forget it! Silently he turned away, and strode off into the rapidly descending night. Arthur Neale Free Concerts WE have music in the morning, We have music in the night, We have music while we're eating, We have music while we write. We have music in the parlor, We have music in the hall, It is furnished by our neighbors, And we thank them one and all. R. C. OB. PrN, Sagal 14 comicbooks.com