Judge — July 20, 1929 — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

For some reason the outdoor quericd with raised eyebrows, “Fat boy nothing,” sobbed Gins- berg. “He's. thirty-eight years He's married to Baclanova, and they've got four children. The oldest boy is in Yale and the second boy's a police com- missioner in New York! “Not Grover Whalen?” 1 cried. “Why, we newspapermen thought— he was Farina’s brother?” sneered Ginsberg. “Not on your life. Farina is Walter Dam- rosch, a New York violinist hid- ing from a society of Belgian hares who have sworn ven geance.” “But why have they sworn vengeance on him?” was my puz- zled question. “For hiding,” replied Gins- berg. “He should not have hid- den. He, by the way, is married to Douglas’ Fairbanks and. they live in Ind lumber yard. “And the little freckled boy in the comedies and the darling blonde girl?” I whispered. “Or are they Lupe Vele “And who is Lupe Vele parricd Ginsberg. “Who indced but that arch-plotter, the brains of Britain's spy system, the mys- terious Mr. X of the ir of the Missing Matzoths, John Riddell, otherwise Corey Ford!” “Gad, the diabolie cunning of the man!” I groaned. “Then the airplane plans of the Privy Coun- napolis in a disused cil Committee “Have been stolen!” thundered Ginsberg. But the shock was too much for me. and ab ty- phoon dizzied my brain. “Quick, JUDGE fire. “And I can offer you a po- sition as private seerctary if you care to remain with us. My duous duties as score- ball park occupy all my if you will manage my will support you in luxury And tonight, as I sit in the library sewing initials on a tiny garment for little August, my eyes fill with tears as I think of all Mr. Ginsberg has done for a simple little country girl whom he befriended one Snowy night. Oh, how can I ever thank my kind benefactor as the apple blossoms filter slowly down into dancers decide to come indoors. my cars in this lovely old Con- neeticut orchard far away from Masters, bring Mr. Perelman a the strifes and cares of the jute s of sherry!" ordered Gins- — mill! Read well my story, girls berg to the of America, and) when your r- per ina time, and ate I “And a Swiss cheese sandwich mother next warns you, do not on rye with Russian dressing,” [saw her in half as I did, but chop added faintly. “I haven't eaten and wash well, 1 the since last Pushover.” As I chewed boiling, and put the jars on a cool the diamond-studded sandwich — shelf. The next article by Chris- aps by which Masters had brought ona — tina Buzzell Perelman on pre- solid gold tray, I recounted my — serving for home needs will ap- experiences to my sympathetic — pear in an early issue. listeners; how [ had left my hus- how I had tramped the Too Cold s looking for honest work. An Eskimo stalwart named Ed encounter with that fiend To a Chilled Movie Palace was y in the Turkish bath, and led— visit to the roadhouse. Now he's back in his home— I, that is all past now, In his igloo in Nome child,” said kind old Mr. Gins- With a very bad cold in the head! berg, drawing my chair up to the —Antuer L. Liretany The bride who left it to her husband to furnish the home,