Life — May 31, 1928 — page 24: what you’re looking at

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

—_— aay Lavy Minp-Reaper: And you're no Adonis yourself! “Just a Little White House” Mr.: like it? Mrs.: We-e-e-ell. I don’t know. The grounds are pretty, but the house looks sort of bare, all white like that. Mr.: I don’t believe they'd want to There, that’s the place. Think you'd ? “Did I ever see you in San Quentin?” “No, I was never in San Quentin.” “Neither was I—it must have been two other felons,” change the color. They have a sentimental reason for keeping it painted white. Mrs.: Oh, then we couldn’t get it per- manently? Mr.: No; four years is the longest they can promise: Mrs.: You know, dear, I'd almost rather live in Paris or London. There's so much doing over there—— Mr.: Well, if we don’t get this place, maybe they can find something for us abroad. But we'd better make up our minds, because there are several families looking at this. Some Hoovers, and a man from New York—I forget his name. Mrs.: Of course, they ¢ell you that, just to hurry you up. Did you ask about the heating plant? Mr.: Yes; the present tenants seem to be perfectly satisfied with it, but from what I heard, they don’t seem to like much heat. Mrs.: How about the roof? Mr.: New last summer. Besides, I was told that there hasn’t been a leak here for almost eight years. These people— Coolidge, I think their name is—seem to be wonders at keeping everything tight. Funny thing, too, here's still some doubt about whether they're really going to move. Might take it for another four years—you never can tell about some peo- ple until they’ve got their trunks packed. Mrs.: Well, that’s a recommendation —it sounds as if they liked it—— Mk.: Oh, yes, I guess they like it fine, but they say this Mr. Coolidge wants tp go West and start a cattle ranch; he was out there last summer looking the ground over. Mrs.: I'd like to see the closets before we decide—but then, you've fallen in love with the place, haven't you, dear? Well, all right, go ahead. I'd just as soog live there. Mr.: Fine! I'll snoop around and se what kind of a trade I can make, and then I'll try and round up some delegates to move us in! Heman Fay, |r, That’s Life Mr. Jones had a vest-pocket camera, a vest-pocket edition of Shakespeare, a vest pocket deck of playing cards, a ves- pocket comb, two vest-pocket lighters, a vest-pocket road map, a _ vest-pocker fountain pen, a vest-pocket size cigarette case, a vest-pocket size watch with a special vest-pocket chain and fob, ves pocket folsing Pullman slippers and a vest-pocket safety razor. He had a vest-pocket diary, a vest pocket spectacle case, a vest-pocket street guide book, a vest-pocket dictionary, a vest-pocket shoe-shine outfit, a vest-pocket memory course, a vest-pocket photograph of his wife and kiddies, a vest-pocket handy implement for opening cans, cut- ting glass or paring apples. But, oddly enough, Mr. Jones simply couldn’t—and didn’t—wear a vest. John Forbes. — Tue Storx: I wonder if there's any chance of my getting a five-day week out of this Tue } lady, who is respect the yo film i them | (the t one, at of the a favo hearin; as this “Ra occasiO glands a rath hold beautit tion of never | ing lig The by Do! provid in the (too h wistful only t tains ¢ Epwis loud p film (3 of this man, | tion o} of the Id matic that nr screen, Hire | mers George achiev sting] since ‘ comicbooks.com