Life — March 23, 1922 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

i’sonly for a minute, dear. I'm rather hurried this morning, I’m going to Washington at 2. You see, Maisie left her pear! necklace with me when she yent to have her appendix out, it's rally very handsome, and very valu- Girt 1y THE Leopard Coat: I didn’t know she had it out. Lavy: Yes, she wore it at your din- nd I want to get it put away ly before I go to Washington. If ike to wait, I've only got to drop little package in the safe deposit nd then I can drop you anywhere you like: | sha’n’t be a minute. Girt 1X THE Leopard Coat: afraid I can’t wait that long. Lavy: Well, good-by, dear. (Look- ing at the clock.) Mercy, is it as late (To a clerk.) I suppose that ht? I never knew anything I'm Cierk: I think it’s going all right, Madam. Lavy: Oh! I meant the morning. (Goes to a desk and writes out a check.) Will you cash this, please? It must be the fifth to-day. Cterk: Oh, really! Lapy wasnt It? CLERK Lavy: I wish you’d give me some small change, please, I’m going to Washington, it’s so handy. Cierk (counting out change): It looks like snow, shall you have enough? Lapy It just melts you're ing. CLERK of course- Well, Monday was the first, Oh, the date, Madam, yes. away, when The heat from the engine, Lapy: I never can have enough of it, thank you. (She stuffs the money into her wrist bag and goes quickly down to the safe deposit vaults—rush- ing through the various gates.) ll just open my box right here, please. I sha’n't be a minute. (Drops a little package into the deposit box, and re- turns to the limousine.) Scene II The Pennsylvania Station—The 2 clock train for Washington is just pulling out. A Lapy (in one of the drawing cars, taking an inventory of her wrist bag and sinking back in her chair in a state of collapse): Mercy! I’ve deposited the gum drops. Beatrice Herford. Gladys: e Oh Major, I just love hunting! M. F. H.: Gad, don’t talk about huntin’ in that frivolous fashion as if it was art or literature or that sort of stuff. To-morrow’s Loves Tue Eartu, March 10, 4522. EAR 8967: I must tell you about 632856,— the dear boy has insisted that I change my number to come under his classifica- tion, and I have actually decided to humor him,—for a while, at least, so we're going over to the registrar’s of- fice to-morrow and will vacuum-plane across to Venus to-morrow night. The 7830987’s are summering over at Sa- turn, and the 8967982's have taken that cottage on Mars, the one I tele-thought to you about the other day. Remember, it’s the one with the ugly pillars of cheap platinum on the 65th floor. So I feel perfectly safe in going to Venus, —the place will seem perfectly calm with them gone. I did intend to send my Complex over with all this news, but the dear thing is sick,—says that the thought waves have been awfully rough and choppy, and he actually is feeling ill. But to return to 632856 and how it all happened. We were at the Luna Plaza, near the big crater, and the Earth did look so far away and ro- mantic, and when the dear boy sug- gested the change in my classification, I just couldn’t resist, and then the very first thing I knew we were planing back to Earth again, and, oh, 8967,—I am so happy. It’s true he is rather young, just 560 last June, but he is really very well situated and has a splendid future, —so you just must tele-think me your best wishes right this second. Your own, 5897654. comicbooks.com