Judge — October 18, 1930 — page 7: what you’re looking at

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

The Grit of the Peagraves By S. J. Perelman shouldn't you “Br Bertha, why marry Wayne Peagrave?” Pro- fessor Leopold Bloow patted his daughter's fine-spun hair affectionat ly. “I'm sure he’s a very good stu- dent; in fact, he’s the best man in my class!" “Oh, Dad!” Bertha Bloom's voice was impatient and there was a flash of rebellion in those clear topaz eyes, in- herited from centuries of Jewish war- rior ancestors who had fallen in the Crusades into easy jobs. n't you understand? How can I marry a man who's yellow “Listen, baby, you should _ talk about skin pigments?” demanded her father severely. “You're only a jump from the Arabs yourself. And the Arabs and the Chinks all come from the same basket.” “Oh, Dad, you are a bookworm!” scoffed Bertha in mock despair. “What I mean is, Wayne's a quitter! He promised me he'd make his hockey letter or dice in the attempt. And you know I'd never marry a man who's done nothing for oid Chiropractic Tech,” she finished firmly. “Come, Professor Bloom. “There speaks your grand- father. Gad, what a man! You know, on his mother’s side he was a Roth- schild, with his mouth added proudly, “What was he with it ope Bertha sullenly. “A gorilla,” admitted the Professor sadly. “A plain, ordinary gorilla, just like you. But here it is ten o'clock and your mother told me she wanted to have a talk with you this evening, Ss come,” soothed closed,” he asked have I got to listen to an- of those so-the-little-b ries- the- pollen-from-one-flower-t other spiel zroaned Bertha. “Why doesn’t that dame catch wise to her- self? Listen, I could show her a “Never mind, Bertha, now rupted her father. “Run along, he returned his absorbed » to the Decameron, the great s ¢ work to which he was dedicating his life. Meanwhile Wayne Pe: re, the of all this discourse, moodily hunched his shoulders deep into his collegiate topcoat and ed the biting wind which swept down Pratt Street. Rain flicked its lash across his finely chiseled features as he recalled what she had said when he had asked her to be Bertha Peagrave. Could a fel- other on inter- And agi JUDGE low help it if his ankles buckled ev« time he stood up ona pair of sk: Hadn't he tried, hadn't he gritted his teeth, remembering his ancestors who had rushed into the enemy's guns at Jutland, Sebastopol, Chickamauga, Austerlitz, Ticonderoga, the Battle of the Boyne, Hastings, Salamis, and Thermop: As he neared the dor- mitory of Mordaunt Hall he thrust his jaw pugnaciously forward. He'd show her! Nobody'll call a Seagrave a quitter! His Burbage, “roomie,” Erskine who was out on a date, looked up in surprise as he entered and threw himself, brooding heavily, upon the bed. One by one the lights of Mordaunt Hall disappeared, but still Wayne Peagrave stared with fur- rowed brows at Bertha’s picture. The temporary bleachers which had been erected around Ezra Pond for the annual hockey contest with Dis- mukes University were filled with im- patient rooters of both factions eager- waiting the fray. Gaily attired co-eds with sparkling cheeks and red eyes waved pennants and shouted lusty accompaniment to the cheer- leader’s hoarse requests for a long C-h-i-r-o-p-r-a-e+t-i-e for the team, In reply the Dismukes cohorts took up the chorus: “Dismukes, Dismukes, Mother o’ Men, "Neath thy elms time immemorial Recalls us to thy banner armorial, So it’s fight, fellows, and put up your dukes For one-two-three-four-five and old Dismukes !” In the Dismukes’ locker-room the coach was facing his tense charges with stern mien, giv them their final instructions. ‘They were so in- tent upon his words that none of them heard a light footfall in an adjoining (Continued on page 28) | Nensr—Dr. Plapp is the practising physician here! Partent—Not on me, he ain't! comicbooks.com