Life — November 16, 1928 — page 13: what you’re looking at

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

MRS. PEP’S DIARY | wh Ocrover 23—Tossing early on my cot, vexed with my husband for sleeping so soundly and sonorously when I could not get a wink, so pondered this and that, in espe- cial where Sam would live should I die, and why a pound of caviar always seems smaller than a pound of anything else, until it was time for my breakfast and the nurse did come to give me my treat- ment, and during the course of our talk she did use the word ‘“‘tautological” and reduce “different” to its original Latin, which caused me to think that mayhap she was like the poor old schoolteacher in “War Among Ladies” who found, after a stormy and profitless career in peda- gogy, great satisfaction in being a parlor- maid. Interlude,” and it did strike me as odd that the leading woman should have wor- ried so much about insanity in her hus- band’s family when she herself was as neurotic as they come, and I did say so to Louise Black, my hostess, who replied that a doctor had told her we should never speak about neuroses in another without first getting a clean bill for ourselves, and it is probably the truth. Joining Clara Cady and Florence Witherspoon in the dinner interval, we all to a public, where I could have nought but an oyster stew, Leonard his afternoon to see “Strange; but the others did well in Philadelphia ! pperpot, chicken casserole with noodles, | broecol and raspberry ice. So back to the | play, amused to fird a slight odor of gin “The idea! Has that woman no shame?” pervading the audience and also that the three young men behind us did not re- turn, Octower 24—An unexpected package ar- nving carly which I was all a-twitter to open, and it was a great Sheffield tray from Samuel, sent to me out of a clear sky, which I do think is the ideal source of a present. So, very happy, to an inn to call on Georgie Richardson, here from Chicago, and she did tell me how, when she was driving in from Wheaton the other night in her father’s car, which has a canvas-covered baggage rack atop it, she was suddenly stopped by five bandits, one placing his gun against the chauffeur’s temple and the other four leveling their weapons at her, and how the young man with her had bade her be calm with his own teeth fairly chattering in his head, and how when it had been ascertained | that there was no liquor in either the car or rack, the gunmen had instantly with- drawn, the youngest one saying, as he closed the door, “I’m sorry, lady!” Lord! had such a thing happened to me, I should not be alive to tell the tale, but apparently such things are so a matter of course to the poor Chicagoans that Georgie’s daughter Bluford, hearing the news over the telephone whilst she was at dinner in Detroit, forgot even to mention it until after the coffee had been served. Home | betimes to take my rest, reading in the {journals of the death of George Barr Mc- Cutcheon, and the news did mind me of a Christmas day when I was very young and a youthful suitor did bring me a copy of “The Sherrods,”” and how his mother had later told mine that he had driven her well-nigh to distraction getting her to put what he considered the proper twist to the wide red ribbon which bound it. This night to sce “Earl Carroll's Vanities,” a lively and colorful show, buying after- wards a record of “Once in a Lifetime Someone Comes Along,” playing it when we reached home until Sam was fearful that the neighbors might take action. HIGHLY IMPROBABLE FABLE Once upon a time a candidate went out the day after election and took down all his campaign signs and cards. comicbooks.com