Judge — February 9, 1929 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

OH MR. PERELMAN ARENT YOU THE CRAZIEST THING ! CACKLED THE CUTIE Put on your clean shirt, Benny, w take out a couple of female acrobats. “He formation given out here?” shouted an excited that visitor in a museum. “Yes, sir, it has,” languid comment of the attendant. here comes the United States ce: Dodge! I fancied I saw a tear in his eye when he told me he was going home, “IT haven't seen the old place since I left twenty-five years ago,” he said. I thought his voice broke slightly. “It wasn't much of a place. Just a little white shingle house with green shutters. There were morning glory vines, too. Mother used to sit in the window and wave to me when IT went down the winding gravel path, through the garden, to school. Mother still lives there. It's hard to drag her away. She e York to visit me fo but she wasn't happy. “She kept worrying about the lilac bushes in the back yard and wondering if the oriole was going to come back again that spring me to New few weeks and build her nest in the pear tree. Then, too, she had forgot ten to arrange for a man to plow the peach orchard in the side yard. She plants melons in it every spring.” All this was amazing to me. Here I had thought of this man only as a calculating business person... one who would never let sentiment interfere with any- th He went on, “I can't tell you how anxious I am to get back. Of course, I know there have been re going to F was the right, bit cynical? a lot of changes. The dirt road that ran in front of the house is part of the Lincoln Highway now, to and the lane where we used nutting has been made into te turnpike. Mother k pleading for me to come home re going down to sce her,” T said enthusiastically. I AM MADEMOISELLE MIMI, THE QUEEN OF THE RUNWAYS, ADVISED SAME. ing the peepers over this patty-cake from the ng-kens in the Loop, “Don’t beat your horse —talk to him!” ordered a copper. “All replied the driver, * Thank God, from Pittsfield, Mass.; calry from Fort re, my bully boy, I'm where are you frome” Don't you think that’s just the teeniest-weeniest “Yep.” he replied. “I'L talk herinto leaving. That old place is going to waste. It'll make an ideal site for a filling station We'll tear down the house and put up a swell tile building with fourteen pumps. I'll make some- thing out of the old hole yet. Carnott Carnot The new sled | | comicbooks.com