Life — November 23, 1922 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

LIFE Twin Bed-Time Stories Benedict Is Getting Worse and Worse, Night by Night. j CENE: The Benedict Newleighs’ bedroom. Both have retired to their twin beds. Mrs. NEWLEIGH (murmuring to herself): Day by day, in every way, I am getting bet- ter. Day by day— Benepict (tossing restlessly): For the love of Mike, what’s on your mind now? Mrs. NEWLEIGH (ignoring him): Day by day, in every way— BenepictT: You are getting better at keeping me from going to sleep. What kind of a game is this anyway? Mrs. New.ercu (loftily): You wouldn’t understand it, Benedict. It hasn’t anything to do with business. (Benedict grunts.) It’s Coué-ism, Benepict: Cuckoo-ism? It sounds like it. Mrs. NeweicH: Don’t show your ignorance, Bene- dict. It’s the new theory of Emile Coué, and has traveled over the country like mad. Benepict: Emily Coué, hey? advanced women, I suppose. Name sounds like a Swiss yodeler. Well, good night, dearest. Mrs. NewteicH (coldly): He isn’t a woman. very distinguished Frenchman. Day by day— Benepict (intensely): Are you going to keep this up all night? Mrs. NewLeicu (the determined look upon her face is not visible in the darkness, but it is there, all the same): Until I have said it twenty times. (Sighing.) I suppose Another one of these He's a P a AER T'll have to explain it to you. Coué believes that where the imagination and the will are in conflict, the imagina- tion always triumphs. Benepict (gloomily): Sounds like the will was the married man of the outfit. Mrs. Newteicu (with exasperation): Are you going to listen or not? Benepict: Going to—got to! Mrs. New ercu: If you were walking a narrow plank high above the ground, for instance, and imagined you were going to fall off, you would fall off even if you were determined not to. Benepict: No, I wouldn't, because I wouldn’t get onto a narrow plank in a high place like that. Mrs, NEw.etcu (scornfully): I knew it would be too much for you to understand. Benepict: Well, dear, let me try. Now if I imagined that I was going to drop off to sleep and that you wouldn't say another word to me, do you mean to tell me it would actually happen? Mrs. NEWLEIGH (entirely out of patience with him) : Benedict, you’re perfectly impossible. I’m not going to say another word to you, so there! Benepict (as he turns over to go to sleep with a happy sigh): Well—perhaps there’s something in this Pro- fessor Cuckoo business after all. (Curtain) “Helen, I declare, your dress scarcely covers your body.” “What's the matter with my body?” comicbooks.com