W.N.U. SfRVlCe
SYNOPSIS
Sleepy Cat, desert town of the
•Southwest, is celebrating the Fourth
of July. Jane Van Tambel, beautiful
daughter of Gus Van Tambel, hated
owner of Gunlock ranch, has ar
rived from the Fast for the first
time. She watches the Frontier Day
celebration in company with pr.
Carpy, crusty, tender-hearted friend
of the community. Henry Sawdy of
the Circle Dot ranch, tricked in a
l fake horse race the day before by
Dave McCrossen, foreman at Gun
lock, plans revenge. He enters Bill
Denison, a handsome young Texas
wrangler, in the rodeo which Mc
Crossen is favored to win, and lays
j, heavy bets on him. Unknown to the
crowd, Denison ls> a champion horse
man. McCrossen and the young
stranger tie in the various events.
Denison drops a cigarette carelessly.
Racing down the track full tilt, he
picks up the cigarette. The verdict
goes to Denison when McCrossen re
fuses to attempt the stunt. Entreat
ed by the fcrowd, Denison agrees to
perform another trick. Jane is
asked for her bracelet, and throws
it on the track. Just as Denison
rides to pick it up a yell from Bar
* ney Rebstock, a McCrossen hench
p man, scares the pony, nearly costing
the rider his life. Gun play is pre
vented by the intervention of Dr.
Carpy. Back on Gunlock ranch aft
er two years in Chicago, because of
her father’s Illness, Jane gets lost
riding in the hills and meets Dent
t son, now a neighbor, who guides her
home. Not knowing her identity, he
speaks bitterly of Van Tambel. She
tells McCrossen who brought her
home and he denounces Denison as
a cattle thief. Later she asks Dr.
Carpy why her father is unpopular
and he tells her It is because of Van
Tambel’s ruthless and unscrupulous
character. Later McCrossen tries to
woo Jane, but Is sharply rebuffed.
Once again' she loses her way in
the hills and meets Denison. On im
pulse she gives him her bracelet for
guiding her home.
CHAPTER IV—Continued
} —6—
“Well, It happened I was Just
thinking about the other times we
met. and wondering whether I’d
ever see you again, when you
dropped down out of the sky on me
fc- just now. It took my breath. On
your way to town? So am I. Do
you mind if I ride along with you?"
"1 might mind If you didn't In
fact, If you don't mind a confession,
I hurried a little to catch up. You
were so kind before—■”
••Nothing at all—•”
“—and you gave me such good
advice that I haven't been lost
aince. But I do feel safer, riding
with company. So thank you again
—If you’re not terribly 'tired of be
ing thanked.”
“Just as much as you like, If
you’ll remember you're thanking me
for nothing. I was afraid you’d
gone back to Chicago.”
“Where have you been all this
time? I certainly couldn’t have
missed you. If you ride this trail as
■often as I do.”
“I’ve been away—down at Medi
cine Bend. How long is It since
that day?”
“Oh, I haven’t an Idea. It was an
awfully hot day, as I remember.
Wasn’t it?”
“I can’t remember a thing about
the weather. If 1 measured the time
by my feelings, it would be about
three years.
“How perfectly ridiculous I” pout
ed Jane.
“What I was afraid of was, you’d
gone back to Chicago and I’d never
see you again. Then I figured that
If you went back to Chicago, I'd look
there next winter for a circus job
and try to get into the same show
with you.”
She looked at him, frankly
amused. “Now wasn’t that, nice of
you? Really, Mr. Denison, you
make me perfectly ashamed of my
self. Will you get mad now If I
confess again? No; you mustn't. I
Just won’t have it But—I was kid
ding about being a circus rider.” •
He repressed a smile. She saw It.
-vvnat amused you? ’ she asked.
-Nothing at all."
"Oh, yes it was. What?”
“You won’t get mad?”
“Oh,” she responded airily, “I
never get mad.”
“Well, I knew you were kidding
because that time you rode up to
Spring Ranch, I happened to see
you come down the valley. It was
after I’d heard these stories about
circus riding. I said to myself, ’If
that young lady ever rode In a cir
cus, they’d have to tie her on.’ ”
Jane didn’t like It—no girl could.
But it gave her precisely the open
ing she wanted. “Now,” she said
with an attempted laugh, “it’s my
turn, sad I hope you woi^’t get mad.”
"Try me—nothlng’d make me
mad.”
Then, “Yon mustn’t hate me be
cause I am not some one you might
have thought I was. I am Jane Van
Tambel. My name is Jane—not
Marie* I know you and father
haven't got aMmg . .
CHAPTER V
TWO days passed. Jane ordered
up her pony. “What’s takln’ you
Into town today?” asked McCrossen
suspiciously.
Bull came up with the pony. Jane
tossed the question: “I forgot some
errands the other day. I shan’t be
gone long.”
“Who’s goln’ with you?”
“No one. The boys are busy. T
shall not need the wagon today.”
She had ridden some two miles
toward town, when a turn In the
trail brought in sight a man riding
out of the woods. He checked his
horse and waited for Jane. His
face was expectant.
Jane’s cheeks flushed In spite of
herself. “I hope I havent kept you
waiting long,” she stammered. He
smiled and shook his head as if per
fectly satisfied. “I came early,” he
confessed. “But I’d have hung
around all night for this and not
thought it long. Are we going up
In the hills?”
“Not today. We—at least I—am
going Into town." Jane had private
feelings of reserve about riding into
the hills with Bill Denison. “In the
hills we might get lost,” she sug
gested, na|vely.
“I might; but not in the way you
mean. I’m lost right now. I’ve
been lost for two days. Something
came Into my life two days ago
that I hope will keep me dreaming
the rest of my life.”
“Don’t talk nonsense.”
“You don't dare ask what I was
dreaming about?”
“Was it about another dreamer?”
“It was.”
“I know who, then.” He looked
at her with pathetic hope. “It was
about McCrossen," she added
heartlessly.
"Never! It was—”
"Let’s gallop,” she exclaimed, cut
ting him squarely off. “I feel Just
like riding fast. I can beat you to
that big pine!”
When she pulled up after a brisk
run, her face was flushed, her eyes
dancing, her lips parted in laugh
ter. Denison was just behind her.
"Why, you didn’t race at all,” she
complained, looking around at hiuj.
"Why didn’t you try to pass me in
stead of sticking at my heels all the
time?”
“If I passed you, how in the world
could I see you? I wish it was fifty
miles more to Sleepy Cat—don't
you?”
“No."
“Well, don’t you wish It was Just
a few miles farther?”
“No."
“|Jot even two miles?”
“What a persistent tease! Well—
two, then. And no more.”
“We could make it two by riding
a little farther Into the hills.”
"You might ride up that way by
yourself.”
"I’m just a groom. I have to fol
low my mistress.”
"Oh, no! We mustn’t ride into
town together. You gallop ahead.”
.Jane lunched that day at Dr. Car
py’s hotel, hoping she might see
Carpy himself. Fortune favored
her. The doctor was in the office
when she came.
“By the way. Doctor,” she said,
“I rode into town, part of the way,
this morning with a neighbor of
ours who doesn’t bear a very favor
able reputation at Gunlock, but—”
“What’s his name?”
"Bill Denison.”
Carpy laughed his dry little
laugh. “Well!” he exclaimed benev
olently. “You did pick a real out
sider, didn’t you? What did you
think of the brute?”
In her confusion, Jane hesitated.
“Why—I thought him not bad at
all,” she declared with spirit. "What
do you think of him?”
"Why,.to speak just offhand, Jane,
I’d say Bill Denison had his ene
mies; but I think he's about as
square and open-and-above-board a
young fellow as lives In the hills. I
don’t suppose any of your father’s
following would agree with me."
“He struck me, too. Doctor, as
Just such a man," Interposed Jane
impulsively.
"What do you know about things
like that?” asked Carpy Jocularly.
“You’re just a kid! He might be
a horse thief for all you could tell,
girl."
Jane drew herself up. “Don’t be
so sure about every girl’s being a
fool—some of them might fool you I
He told me he used to work at Gun
lock. What was the quarrel be
tween him and Father?”
Dr. Carpy laid his cigar on the
edge of the table and braced him
self. “It’s a kind of long story," he
began, not- knowing exactly how to
tackle a delicate subject
“I’ve Iota of time," remarked
Jane disconcertingly. / .
“To begin with, your father was
always a grabber, Jane. Probably
couldn’t help It—just built that way.
I suppose that hurts your feelings!”
The girl winced a little. “Whether
it does or does not, Doctor, I want
to bear both sides.”
Her appeal was not unheeded.
“You’re a kind of surprise, Jane,”
continued the doctor slowly, “for In
spite of the fact that the family
name Is not very popular in this
country, everybody Is talking about
you.
“Just to show you, Jane, bow
feeling has been: we’ve got an ex
sheriff out here, one of the best and
biggest-hearted men In the moun
tains. He's a character. He hap
pened In to the hotel the other day,
and we got to talking about you—
now don't blush or get confused,
girl—you’re entitled to a good send
off, and I gave you a good one.
“Old Bill Pardaloe set where
you’re setting, with his feet on the
table, chewing tobacco, listening to
every word and never, all the time,
saying one word himself. When I
got through, I told him about you,
and that you had an aunt in Chica
go who’d been out here—a regular
sport and no fancy airs because she
had a rich brother.
“Pardaloe—now I’m telling you
this, Jane, only to show you how
some of us felt—Paraloe shifted his
quid and says, ‘Doc, It’s kind of
hard for me to believe there’s one
decent Van Tambel in the world;
I’m damned If I’ll ever believe
mere 8 two.
“Oh, Doctor!”
“Bill Denison worked awhile for
your father; he was foreman at
Gunlpck. Your father thought Den
ison was just about right He could
do everything—and do It well. He
made so much money for your fa
ther that he gave him a share in
the cattle, a tenth, I believe it was.
When he quit Denison asked for a
settlement on his share. Your fa
ther told him he didn’t have no
share. They went to law about it.
Denison got beat—he didn’t have
anything but a verbal contract So
Bill went back to live on his own
ranch next to the Reservation. It’s
small but has plenty of good water
from a big spring that makes It val
uable. Then he began running oft
enough Gunlock cattle in small
bunches—cattle he claimed belonged
to him, anyway—to pay what your
father owed him.
“So Bill was cussed by your fa
ther as a rustler. It made cattle
men laugh, thinking of your father’s
own reputation in that respect. And
the old man brought a lawsuit
against Bill to oust him from the'
, little ranch, account bad title. That
suit Is still pending In the land of
fice at Washington. Now, that’s
just ahout the story, Jane.”
The shock of the doctor’s story so
humiliated Jane that she wanted
only to get back home and hide
what she felt to be the shame of
her father from everybody. She
had promised to ride back the hill
trail with Denison; she felt she just
couldn't do it She took a short cut
home across the desert Her mys
“What Old You Think of the Brute?"
tilled and disappointed admirer, aft
er lingering patiently in the hills till
dusk rode into town only to learn
at McAlpin’s barn that Jane had
taken her pony out early in the aft
ernoon.
It was a painful night. She real
ized why the name she bore was so
unpopular In‘Sleepy Cat
Her depression bore her down;
even Quong saw that something was
wrong. He cooked special dishe9 to
tempt Jane’s appetite, but her appe
tite could not be tempted.
"Why don’t you get out and ride
any more?” asked Bull Page one
day. "You haven’t been on a horse
for two weeks—Just sit moping
around the house, eating nothing,
talking nothing.”
"Bull. Just let me alone. I’ll be
all right.”
For another two weeks Bull was
worried. Then suddenly Jane re
lented.
She would take a horseback ride
if Bull would ride with her—not
otherwise.
They started together. It was aft
ernoon. The air was thick with a
soft haze that tempered the sun’s
rays. The trail led In and out of
the thin pine woods.
She began to think her nervons
apprehension of meeting Denison
again had been a wasted worry. In
deed, she and her guide were home
ward bound within a mile of the
ranch house when both heard the
clatter of hoofs behind them. Jane
would not have looked around for a
million dollars. Bull told her there
were two men coming up.
“Who are they?”
“Looks like "Carpy and Bill Deni
son.”
Jane’s heart raced. However, this
seemed not so bad. Three men and
one woman were better than one
man and one woman. Carpy and
Denison approached together.
“Where are you riding to today,
doctor?” asked Jane.
"Gunlock ranch.”
Jane showed surprise. "Who’s
sick at the ranch?”
“One of the beys,” said Carpy.
“That’s the first I’ve heard of it,”
exclaimed Jane. “Who is it?”
“One of the boys that got cut up
last night downtown. I sewed him
up and want to see bow he is. Noth
ing serious, I guess,” said Carpy.
“Any news in town, doctor?”
asked Jane, though not in the least
Interested in Sleepy Cat news.
"Nothing but the brush fires up
North. This whole country's dry as
as tinder. I hope the winds will
keep ’em up North. What do you
hear from your father?” asked the
doctor In return.
“Oh, he’s better,” said Jane. “He
talks about coming home pretty
soon.
‘‘Well, that’s news,” commented
Dr. Carpy, noncommittally. “He’s
got a wonderful constitution, that
man,” thinking to himself that It
was much too good. “How have you
been yourself, girl?"
“Oh, I’m just fine, doctor.”
“Harin’ to go, eh? Come on, girl,
“I’ll race you through this pine
belt.”
Jane saw her chance to escape an
uncomfortable situation, for Deni
son hadn’t said a word. She dashed
gayly ahead and outran Carpy. But
Denison followed her, overtaking
her and riding alongside.
The spurt couldn’t last forever,
though Jane prolonged It to the best
of her ability. She wondered wheth
er she had jumped from the frying
pan Into the fire; she was alone
now with Denison.
When she slackened her pace, out
of breath, her cheeks were aglow.
“I wouldn’t push that pony of
yours too hard,” suggested Denison
incidentally. “He’s a nervous crit
ter.”
“Oh, he’s all right,” said Jane
lightly, “but it does shake one up,
doesn’t It?” she exclaimed, panting
h little.
“It does,” agreed Denison. “But
I got my real shakeup when I spied
you on the trail. I’ve been staking
myself out alone on this trail every
day for a month or so, hoping to
get sight of you.”
“I haven’t felt much like riding
lately.”
“I was afraid you were sick. I
watched for the doctor coming out,
but I didn't see him. I used to ride
up Gnnlock Knob every day or two
to see If I could see anything of
you."
“I wish you wouldn’t do such
things. Where Is Gunlock KnoD?”
“It’s that peak over by the spring,
it’s really on your father’s ranch, I
guess, but I’m always careful not to
run into any of your men.”
“I’m sorry, but you musn’t look
for me any more—please don't”
She glanced at him firmly as she
spoke. To Denison she bad never
looked so lovely.
“Why?” he demanded. “Have I—”
“You haven’t, but I have—I guess
that’s the way to put it I mustn’t
see you any more. I don't expect
to remain in this country very long,
anyway.”
“What have I done, Jane?”
“Nothing, nothing.”
“Somebody’s been telling lies
about me,” he declared with some
bitterness.
“No.”
“If you’d tell me what they are,
I could answer them.”
“I said, no! No one has talked
about you.” His sudden intensity
frightened Jane. She burst into
tears.
“Now I’ve made matters worse!”
he exclaimed penitently. “I guess
my bark’s worse’n my bite. But it
makes me wild to think I've been
lied about to you.”
“You haven’t,” sputtered poor
Jane. “Don’t you believe me when
I say nobody’s been talking about
you?”
"Please excuse me, then. I do be
lieve you. But if you’d give me a
chance to, I'd be willing to tell yon
every mean thing I’ve done in my
life—and leave it all to you. Don’t
condemn me without a hearing—
that’s all I ask.”
“Nobody Is condemning you. I'm
only, if anything, condemning my
self.”
“For what?” he demanded.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Plane Altered to Carry Invalid
An interesting case of the use of
an airplane as an ambulance oc
curred In Pennsylvania when a man
to whose spine a part of his shin
bone had been grafted was flown
from a hospital in Philadelphia
to his home in Bloomsburg. Due to
the fact that his wound would re
quire several months to heal, a spe
cial carriage had to be constructed
in the Interior of the plane so that
his trip might be made in a prone
position. Physicians interested in
the case explained that the opera
tion which had been performed was
most unusual as It was only the
fifth of Its kind to be performed in
thlq country.—Scientific American.
**★★****★***★★***★
! STAR !
| DUST |
* jMLovie • Radio $
★ ★
By VIRGINIA VALE***
YOU may think that it would
be all too easy to break into
the movies if you were related
to a star. But—well, just see
what Florence Eldridge has to
say about it.
In private life she is Mrs. Fred
ric March. In public life she had
been a well known actress on the
stage for some years before they
were married. When he decided on
movies instead of the stage, she
went along to Hollywood, because
being a good wife is more impor
tant to her than having a career of
her own.
Came the time when RKO was
casting “Mary of Scotland,” in
w h i ch Katherine Hepburn and
Fredric March are co-starred
(and a swell picture it is!). Miss
Eldridge wanted the role of Queen
Elizabeth.
“I was selected only after every
other candidate for the part had
been tested and rejected for one
reason or another,” says she. She
finally got it, of course, and turned
in an excellent performance.
—4*"*,
Gertrude Michael was the target
for a lot of remonstrating when she
i e x x raramoum;
there were people
who said she’d find
that free - lancing
was a lot worse
than sticking with a
big company, even
thgagh that com*
pahy didn’t seem to
be doing a great
deal for you. Some
of them predicted
that she’d be com
pietely out or pic
tures, first thing
she knew.
Gertrude
Michael
Whereupon she signed up with
RKO and now she's headed straight
for the top.
That brand new motion picture
company, Grand National, has Just
signed up a young man who looks
like big star material. His name
is Briihart Chapman, and he’s a
dancer—has appeared in solo num
bers for the past four years with
the Boston Symphony Orchestra.
Recently he has been dancing at a
night clnb in New York, and now
he’s off to Europe on a vacation,
before he starts work before the
camera.
Lily Pons is all set to begin pic
ture work again, although she has
said that she doesn’t care too much
about it She spent her vacation
in Connecticut, its climax being the
arrival of her mother from France.
John McCormack, the famous
Irish tenor, sang “Killamey” and
‘‘Believe Me, If All Those En
dearing young Charms” in England
the other day for 20th Century
Fox’s “Wings of the Morning” —
and if you see the picture you’ll
see the famous singer in natural
color—it’s the first Technicolor pic
ture produced in England.
The football broadcasts are being
lined up, so that all of us who don’t
want to go to games, or can’t make
it, can sit at home this fall and
hear what’s happening on the grid
iron. An oil company is acting as
sponsor for the broadcasts of one
hundred major games, over thirty
six stations on the coast. .Don Wil
son, whom you’ve heard doing an
other sort of announcements with
Jack Benny, will do some of the
announcing.
If you listen to the Music Hall of
the Air, on the radio, you probably
feel that you Know
Ted Hammerstein;
he is the grandson
of the late Oscar
Hammerstein, one
of America’s most
illustrious
theatrical figures.
Ted tells this
story about himself.
He broke into the
theatrical business
by working for a
Richard Dix
Broadway booking
agent.
This theatrical agent was one of
the important ones, and his waiting
room was usually filled with people
clamoring for work. Keeping them
from storming the inner office was
Hammerstein’s main duty. He did
his job as bouncer very effectively
—and some of the people he threw
out later made good—among them
Richard Dix, Chester Morris and
Ben Lyons!
ODDS AND ENDS . . . Her admir
ers are declaring that Norma Shearer’s
performance in “Romeo and Juliet”
mdses her the greatest American ac
tress, bar none, on stage or screen ...
Marlene Dietrich says she'll never re
turn to Germany, not because of trou
bles with the government, but because
the German people don’t like her in
pictures . . . Now its Donald Woods
who has gone on strike on the Warner
Brothers lot. .. Wonder what is caus
ing that epidemic . . . Bette Davis
must be glad that she walked out on
“God's Country and the Womanthe
company has been having a ran of ac
cidents on location.
c Western Newspaper Union,
'DrirnktA about
Woes of French Hotelkeepers.
SANTA MONICA, CALIF.
—As he gazes forth on a
boulevard full of rampaging
Reds and thinks about his empty
bedrooms, I’ll bet there isn’t a
hotel keeper in Paris who
wouldn’t trade a great gross of
assorted French communists,
including all the standardized
grades, such as the compara
tively rare slick type, the partly
haired-over hybrid and the com
mon fur-bearing variety, for
just one old-fashioned easy-go
ing American visitor—the kind
that was too carefree to check
up the weekly bill
• • •
Private Olympic Games.
ORIGINALLY these Olympian
games were based upon the
iaeai oi sirenginen
ing inter - racial
friendships through
competitive sport.
But when, in dis
patches from Ber
lin, a fellow reads
of disputed deci
sions, questioned re
versals, alleged dis
criminations against
some winning con
testants on account
of color, and the un- Irvin S. Cobb
necessarily brutal
publicity, or so it apeared at long
distance, that was given to the dis
ciplining of an indiscreet woman
athlete, and then the threatened
withdrawals of aggrieved teams
from certain Latin countries, he
gets to thinking, the reader does,
that maybe it would be better if
each national group held its own
little private Olympian show on the
home grounds and barred out the
foreigners.
• • •
Uncle Sam’s Alien Burdens
f O MATTER which party controls
congress, watch at the next
term for this: A campaign for lega
tion opening the doors to millions of
aliens now barred out under the
quota laws, which also would legal
ize the presence here of a great
mass of the foreign-born, some of
them criminals, some misfits and
malcontents, some avowed enemies
I of our government, some paupers
on Federal relief, who already are
biding amongst us through whole
sale smuggling-in, through fraudu
lent immigration papers, through
carelessness—to use a gentle term
—on the part of public servants
charged with the duty of guarding
at the gate.
In the years before us, it will be a
sufficiently heavy burden to care
for such of our own worthy home
folks, whether native or naturalized,
as otherwise would go destitute.
Cleverness of the Chinese.
ONCE, long ago, I, being a re
porter, was detailed to accom
pany to police headquarters in New
York a Chinese prince who’d come
over to study our police methods.
We were in the Bertillon bureau,
presided over by the famous in
spector Faurot.
“Ah, yes,” said the courtly visi
tor in faultless English, “this same
system has been in vogue in my
land since time immemorial, ex
cept that we use fingerprinting in
addition to legal signatures and of
ficial seals, for further validating
important documents.”
“Don’t you also use it for record
ing habitual criminals?”
“X do not think so.”
“Well, then,” asked Faurot, “how
do you identify them?”
“Very simple,” said the prince
and smiled a gentle smile. “When
we catch a chronic offender we im
mediately cut off his head, and then
anyone may recognize him at a
glance.”
• • •
The Spanish Extravaganza.
A FELLOW picks up the paper
and reads in the news dis
patches from Spain that the Loyal
ists licked the Royalists, or vice
versa; and the Leftists tied into
the Nationalists again—or maybe
they’re both the same.
Whereas the insurgents walloped
the radicals, but elsewhere the gov
ernment forces drove back the reb
els; and meanwhile the Reds or the
Centrists or somebody did some
thing unpleasant to the Republican
outfit, as opposed to the monar
chial group; and at all points south
and west the anti-clericals and the
church, the Agrarian party, the
Fascists and the Communists, the
besiegers and the defenders, the
peasants and the townspeople, the
laboring classes and the aristocrats,
the land-owners and the tenants,
etc., etc., etc., were snarled into
various hard knots. So what?
If, after all, there are but two
main sides engaged — only I
wouldn’t know about that—the cor
respondents could confer a great
boon by just naming one set the
Hatfields and the other set the Mc
Coys. Or would you prefer calling
them the Callahans and the Mur
phys?
IRVIN S. COBB
•—WNU tarries.
Modest Miss
A girl returned home from •
party and told her father a young
man had kissed her.
“How many times did he kiss
you?” asked her father.
Looking up into his face, the
girl replied: “Father, 1 came to
confess, not to boast.”
Found Impossible
“It can’t be done,” said the
young woman, despondently.
“What can’t be done?” asked
the policeman who was pulling
her out of her wrecked car.
“Lighting a cigarette, using a
lipstick, powdering my nose, and
steering the car at the same
time,” she sighed.
THOROUGH JOB
Sue—How did the Fritter’s mar
riage turn out? You know she
married him to reform him.
Jim—She succeeded so well
that now he gets shocked at ev*
erything she does.
Perfect Faith
"Smith’s wife thinks the world
of her husband.”
“Does she?”'
“Yes, she even believes the
parrot taught him to swear.”
Heavy to Sink It
'Money is round and made to
roll,” said a spendthrift to the
miser.
“That’s your way of looking at
it,” replied the latter. “I say that
money is flat and made to pile
up.”
A Gentle Hint
Sailor (to Benign Old Gentle
man) — An adventurous life I’ve
led. Had an operation a little
while ago. Alter I’d come to,
the doctor told me he’d left a
sponge inside me. ‘Let it be,’ I
said, and there it is to this day.
“Does it pain you?” his listener
inquired.
“No pain at all, but—I do get
terribly thirsty!”
Dad in Soak?
“Yes, I know that book is a
best-seller. But is it pure and
clean?”
“Well, ma’am, the hero’s a
white hope, the girl works at a
soap factory, and her mother -
takes in washing. What more
d’ye want?”
Follow Up
"He barked his shin on a
chair.”
“Then what?”
"Then he howled.”
Round About
"What’s the hurry—training for
a race?”
“No, racing for a train!”—
Pearson’s Weekly.
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