Life — November 4, 1926 — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

=o We ea ai PATHOL A MILE 1 EN kere, Ee ih 62 iainan sated He: wave you Got THE Focus? She: wHat rocus? It: THE OLD Focus AT HOME. (Eprror’s ore: This never really happened, but it just serves to demonstrate what sort of work we have been doing up at Live’s Fresh Air Camps this season.) Fun at Oddfellows’ Hall BE ING careful to step only on al- ternate cracks, I walked up the sidewalk to No. 111 and rang the bell of Oddfellows’ Hall three times. Inside the house I heard them si “It's always fair wee when Oddfellows get together,” but presently the song stopped and there seemed to be a discussion of some sort going on. “By all odds let him in,” I heard a voice say. Then the door opened and a stout man con- fronted me. “Tam a reporter from Lire,” I began. “I just want to look around your place a bit and maybe take some pictures for the Odd Number.” “Certainly,” he replied. “Come right in. I'm Mr. Oddie.” We shook hands and he escorted me into the clubhouse. There were quite a few members sitting in the lounge: about fifteen or seventeen odd, I should say. Some of them were playing a game of Twenty- One at the card table. Out- side, in the court, I heard other members shouting at an exciting fives-match. “This is the library,” said my host, taking me into another room lined with bookshelves. I noticed a few of the titles: Keys to Baldpa' Thirteenth Chair, teen,” and ‘ and a Half Hours’ Leave.” “What are those pictures on the wall?” I asked, peer- ing at some group photo- graphs. “Those are our _ last year’s teams,” Mr. Oddie replied. “We had a good basketball fi corking nine!” “How about the crew?” I asked. “I'm afraid we didn’t have a 5 said Mr. Oddie sadly. “We've always wanted a crew. That and a good male quartette.” “Too bad,” 1 murmured. Just then a clock struck thirteen, and looking at my watch I discov- dandy eleven and a \{ yy ta KANN \ ad f ** Goofy Over ores ered that it was noon. I thanked Mr. Oddie and prepared to take my leave. “Well, what do you think of our little club?” he asked. “It's by all odds the best of its kind I've ever seen,” I assured him. “T liked your clock particularly.” “Oh, it's a pretty good ;” said Mr. Oddie deprecatingly. “But we'll have to get rid of it.” “Why?” I inquired. “Weil, you see,” said Mr, Oddie, “it’s got a second id. Now, a hand or a third hand would be fine, but, hang it all, Jaffray, you know what a second hand would do to this club!” He bit his lip. “TI understand, old chap,’ I said, patting him on the shoulder. “But what's the odds?” Tipping my hat, I bid him good even. Norman R. Jaffray. Literally Speaking (THOUGH odd thistheory appears, Tis true for rhyme— An editor's declining years Are when he’s in his prime. Back Pay ELAX: For Heaven's sake, old man, what's the matter? Why, you're all broken up! Rertvx: Oh, a chiroprac- tor owed me five hundred dollars and I let him take it out in trade. prose or Note to Printer: How are all your folks? comicbooks.com