Judge — April 24, 1926 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

) dashed into his flat. “Thank good- ness, you're here,” murmured his good wife. “I haven't heard from P you in three « and I sent a general alarm to police headquarters. Oh, LITTLE ii I'm so glad that nothing happened ETUFFAM ta TEMPERANCE Sear?) ] we ve me sibpert shouted Lucius, ASSOCIATION “T'll have some supper ready in ten minutes,” answered his wife, darting into the kitchen. “Ten minutes!” bellowed Lucius. Tt was nearly midnight when he S. yu. Say, what do you think Lam? Do you think I can afford to waste ten minutes waiting for you to make supper? What's this home comin’ to, anyhow? My time is valuable and I'm not goin’ to wait ten minutes for supper. ‘The very idea! As if T didn’t have a hundred other things that I could do in ten minutes!” Lucius was _ indignant—rather righteously so. He stamped out and there, on the landing, met Joe Tasch, his bosom friend and fellow reader of the sporting pages. “Joe,” said | Lucius, “that was a raw decision. Kid Bruiser should have won that bout!" “He shouldn't!" snapped Joe, angrily. “He should have!" shouted Lucius, his voice quivering with rage. Three and a half hours later, Lucius ascended the stairs for his | midnight supper, which had been consumed by the mice in his absence. “This is a fine household,” he sar- from force of habit)—Well—here’s how! castically muttered, getting into bed. Temperance Lecturer | —Humorist Hugh Wood Waits and Pleasures WEVENTY-TWo hours before the | ™“ championship bout — between Young Kid Bruiser’ and Battling Dave O'Connor, Lucius Lamb stood outside of the boxing stadium. The i | winter blasts chilled him. ‘The frost | | numbed him, but he minded it not. Forty-eight hours before the bout, Lucius still headed the line. His | cheeks were bearded and he was coughing. In one hand was a hot dog and in the other a thermos bottle of stale coffee. H Twenty-four hours before the bout ' still found Lucius, a trifle thinner and j paler, standing in line. And then, at 1 six o'clock that night, the gates were i] thrown open and Lucius dashed high up into the unreserved seats, where, by dint of pushing, battling and , shoving, he secured a seat in the third Decorator (showing wall paper with extremely loud pattern)—We } row. Weary, chilled, battered, he sell a lot of this design for maids’ bedrooms. ip sat there, content—blissfully so, a Hubby—Jolly good idea! Gets ’em up without callin’ em, what? i | martyr to his love for pugilism. —London Opinion comicbooks.com