Judge — April 2, 1927 — page 16: what you’re looking at

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

f JUDGE There’s Millions In It! : — A Study in Contemporary Life By Berrram Biocu [= given up my _ brokerage ) business and gone into waste , f Y, paper. It’s much easier work : i a aa and there’s more money in it. ge It was purely accident—my ‘ finding this easy road to wealth. It came about because my wife and I decided to move to the suburbs. We selected Dingham, because A Dingham was having a big boom just then. It still is, and we hope it always will have. We got off the train at Dingham one bright Sunday morning about three months ago and asked the baggage-man if he could direct us to a good real estate office. He pointed out a row of Tudor, Gothic, Spanish Mission, Roman- esque and Hindu houses. These were the castles where the realtors did business. We entered the first. We had no sooner stepped in the door when a man bobbed up out of his chair, grabbed his hat, shoved us into a car and started the motor. “The house is just around the corner,” said the man, “ stone’s throw from the station.” “Which house?” we asked. “The house I’ve had in mind for you all along.” “How did you know we were coming?” asked my wife, who is of a curious turn of mind. “We didn’t know ourselves until last week.” The man smiled roguishly and shook his forefinger at her. Hack-wrirer (to week-end guest)—Here’s the little home, Paul; it cost me nine detective stories. I furnished it with sizx- teen poems, and the car and garage set me back eleven true confessions. “Daisies won't tell,” he chortled. “How much is this house?” questioned my wife, who is also practical. The man stopped the car so ab- ruptly that my wife shot over the seat into his lap. “Just stay where you are,” he said, “it’s perfectly all right.” Then he leaned back and whis- pered to us. “Forty-two thousand. It’s so cheap I’m afraid to say the figures out loud.” He looked around to be sure no one was spying from under the car or the roof. “It was built to sell for fifty-six, but the builder has got to get rid of it quickly.” “Why?” asked my wife. (Continued on page 26) The Demi-False Face An important contribution to the toilet of late risers. 14 comicbooks.com