Life — August 29, 1895 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

134 OUR FRESH AIR FUND. VERY three dollars sends a child to Lire's Farm for a two week's outing. Previously acknowledged. $3.67 In Memory of A. JS. .&R. é Proceeds of a Fair held at 1. Se Eariscourt, Aug. 12th, In Memory of Little Phil.. by four little girls, Dorothy Ccenon’ Ruxton, jeannette and Neva Hecker, Margaret Ivins & Florence Stevenson Harris Whittemore, Jr Two Helens and) Two Marians, wine Scho 41 82 Pengy Kemp Franl A Class inthe ‘5.8. Emanuel Church : Nancy and Nel Edith Miller, Sacramento... Cash In Memory of Little Ruth. Sunapee, N. H., Cash...... gel Child Miss A. B. Roberts. Stanley & Wri T Memory of RM. E. We ilkesbarre, Cash ‘The Orphan A In Memory of Be CHUEL wanna n ow ute Rockaway. H.C. Biizabeth i. R., Denver:: 3 Le R Margaret, Sanday School “Class 1 wits Walter Learned” ss" of rn Midgie.. 88 S888Sssssssss ss 3 8 LB. j: Proceeds “of "Tal given by three children, viz. Mabel and Charlie., H. CN. West Newion, Mass. 3 Cash EW M. o Philadelphia. In Memory of H. AL Spalding & Brothers for one half dozen baseballs, duly received at Life's Farm. BREAKING THE NEWS. LARA: I wish knew how to get out of marrying him. MauDeE: Sodol. ACK POTTS: Mak- ing love is a good deal like playing cards. Miss PIPKIN: How so? Jack Pot There's a lot in knowing what a hand is worth, IMPRESSIONIST AND THE WIDOWED LADY. No. |. T" was one of those warm spring days and I felt like aking life pleasantly—pleasantly, that is, with Mrs. Turnbull. It was early, only a little after three, as I went up the steps, and I said to myself, “ There'll be no one else, and we can skip all the nothing: I wasn’t prepared for a fashionable visit; I’d been lunching at the club in a serge suit and my last year’s spring overcoat; this with my low hat I could leave in the hall unseen, and I felt, in the careful light always to be found in Mrs. Turnbull's discreet drawing- room, and under her friendly, uncritical eyes, my informal costume might escape notice. She was “at home.” Her little maid is so sympathetic and cool looking—such an attraction in a maid servant ; however, a cool appearance to “IP THAT DOG LIKES WOULDN'T GIVE A NICKEL FOR MY LIFE.” THE LIFE my mind is more essential to any sort of a servant than a “character.” I moved toward the drawing-room, the maid preceding me, and suddenly there was a babble of voices, among which my name fell like a pebble, creating a ripple of murmurs. It was too late to retreat, and I followed my name, a little timidly, into—a /adies’ lunch party! If ever a fish felt out of water! 1 bowed and was introduced all around, Mrs. Turnbull evidently wishing to help me out of my embarrassment. ‘The last guest was one of those cupid- ridden women who falls in love with every man they meet, and for whom the whole world is divided into three classes : —the men they Aave flirted with “ desperately,” and the men they are flirting with “ desperately,” and the men they hope to flirt with “ desperately!" No man could escape this sort of amorous switch-back with Mrs. Tindley when once intro- duced, without being unpardonably rude. Mrs. Turnbull introduced me yesterday, and I was unpardonably rude. I hear she said last night at a late supper, that she couldn't understand what Mrs. Turnbull saw in me, and that I was hurting, Mrs. T's reputation. I think this will come in con- venienfly for an excuse to go to see Mrs. Turnbull again to-day—but I must finish about my other vis I spoiled the luncheon party! Whether they were telling stories not proper for men to hear, or for what reason I don’t know, but they all left. Mrs. Turnbull gave a sigh to herself and a cigarette to me. “ You did wrong to refuse Mrs, Tindley’s invitation.” “Why?” T asked. “ Idle men all find her amusing.” I don't know why it is, but women of the world always think painters, and writers, and musicians never have any- thing to do. “T hope,” I said, “you are not so desperate for occupation as to have taken up the inequalities of the sexes. You are not going to be new /" “Oh, no,” she laughed, “I’m not old enough yet.” “ How old are you ?" She rose. “ Good afternoon,” she said, * I am only énter- viewed between the hours of 11 and 12.30 A. M.” “Tonly asked (/ kept my chair) because Mrs. Pankgor ¢—" “ What did that woman say?" she gasped interruptingly, and reseating herself heavily at the same time. “That you didn’t look your age whatever it was.” “What did she mean?” “I don’t know; that’s why I asked.” * should say it was complimentary “ That, or jealousy.” “Jealousy! Of you?" This hadn't occurred to me but I shrugged my shoulders ignificantly to watch the effect. “You conceited thing!" she added. I regretted my little maneuver after this unsatisfactory outcome. “Oh, no, I didn’t mean that, of course!" [ protested. “ Really men are- 7 “ But I didn’t mean that, I say what do you think ?" comicbooks.com