Evening Star Newspaper, November 19, 1922, Page 71

'GETTING THE ANDYS BUNCHED Trilby May Wastes No Time in Settling the Question of Too Much Overhead When She and Her Lively Crew Tackle the Odd Jobs of the Metropolis—“I Expect I Feel,” She Says, “Like John D. When He Got His First Gusher Going”—Uncle Nels Gets His Answer to the Assertion That “Business Ain’t for Girls.” BY SEWELL FORD, VEN if T should go stony broke or. my Handy Any shop, I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that 1 put one over on Barry Platt. He simply stepped into it, Barry did. It couldn't have been later than 10 o'clock the morn- ing after the first ads appeared that Barry called up on the phone. “I say, Trilby May,” he began, “I'll bave to take back mething 1 told You the other nigh “Your advice that I shouldn't risk my money in any kind of a business enterprise?” T asks. “No, that still goes,” says he. “But I believe I added that pulling some- thing new in this town wasn't pos- sible.” “Almost your very words, old dear,” says' 1. “And you're ready to eat ‘em 80 soon?” “I must,” says he, “for only this morning I ran across a proposition that's as fresh as paint. Perhaps You've seen the ad, too—a concern that sends out men to do odd jobs. ‘The Handy Andy Shop, it's called.” “Yes, I noticed the ad,” says T “You'll admit that's a novel idea, will you? “Absolutely,” clever, eh?” “Think it will be 2 go?" I went on. “Ought to be a knockout,” says Barry. says he. “Rather “And T suppose you falled to notice | tie phone number given?’ says L. “Well, If you have the paper handy take another look.” Which was where this little gasp came over the wire. “Why!” says he. “That's—that's your number, Trilby May!™ “0dd, fsn’t it?” says 1. “But, then, You see, I'm the concern.” “You!" says he. “Say, where did You dig up this—" “Sorry, old bean,” says I, “but I'm too busy to give you the story of my life. of Handy Andys climbing into their new uniforms and four different par- | ties are trying to get me on this wire. Drop around next month at 2 o'clock. and if I'm still & going concern I'll let you know how it works out. For I find that starting a new busi- ness isn't anywhere near as simple as it might be. You don't merely wind the thing up and then sit back and watch it run. No. to coax It along, stay with it, sit up nights with it, or else the blamed thing will curl up and quit on you. ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ) RUE, 1 did get away to a flying start. That two-line reading no- tice of mine, printed in five morning mnewspapers at the bottom of news columns, had caught ‘em. I don't know how many thousands saw it, or what per cent of those who did run across it, as they were following up the latest murder mystery from page 1 to page 9, stopped to think of some odd job around the apartment or house that needed attending to. But 1 do know that before the forenoon was half over I'd had a dozen calls. And here 1 was with a force of, elghteen men standing around in an | unfurrished, rubblish-littered basement, with no organization, no tquipment, and only a vague scheme in my head. Tl say they were a scrubby-looking lot when they first showed up, too. They were all sizes, all ages and all nationalities. Most of ‘em had been recruited from park benches and cheap lodging houses, and they looked it. The faithful Andy Meliish, who had made good his word to round them up, seemed rather proud of ‘em. howevet. “Well, lady,” says he, grubby hand around, “I done as I sald 1 would, didn’t I? Here they are.” “Good work, Andy,” says B “And I trust that all of them know some- thing about doing odd jobs.” “'Course,” says he. “I didn’t have no time to try "em out, but if they're all as good as they let on to be we're in luck. There ain't ono but what's a expert in some line or other, accord- in’ to his say-so.” “Splendid!” says I. “Then our first ‘move wili be to sift out and grade all this talent. Let's begin with car- penters. Listen, men. All you who have worked at that trade line up here on the left.” And balf a dozen ranged themselves by the door. “Now the painters and glaziers,” says L. Five answered this call. i “Plumbers and tinsmiths,” I de- manded. ‘That brought out three. “Take their names, Millish,” say= I, *and check off their specialties. Then you can fit them to overalls, jumpers and caps from that pile there.” It's surprising, too, how much dif- ference a blue denim uniform will make in 2 man. Inside of ten minutes this motley bunch of trampy-looking individuals had been changed into a squad that seemed ready and capable of tackling anything. Yould would almost think that they felt it them- selves. The slouchiest of them seemed to brace up, to square their shoul- ders and hold thelir chins up. Now that's better,” says I. “By tomorrow you'll bave gilt-lettered ‘bunds to go on those caps.” “Say, lady."” speaks up one man, “what you gonna tag us with?” “Nothing that you'll be ashamed to wear,” says 1. “The Handy Andy Shop. That's all. And any of you who's too proud to have that on his ©ap had better quit right now. No resignations? Then we'll go on. I don’t know how you register at hotels, or what name you sign to your checks. You may be Percys or FHarolds or plain Henrys or Johns. * But during working hours you'll all be Andys. Understand? The people you do work for will call you Andy. It will be simpler and more folksy than just being nameless. You may call me Miss Andy, if you like; or Miss Dodge, if you want to be ex- mot. But forget that lady stuff. Tm o -lady. I'm just the boss of the Handy Andy Shop. I'm planning to ‘be a real bosa, too, so don’t-get the notion that you've been invited on a . plenic. Now, Andy Millish, turn your men loose on this basement and see how clean you can get it.” * ® &k % HILE they were at that I chased around to Third avenue, dick- ered for & second-hand desk and some chairs, and had the things carted right over, Also in a pawnshop win- dow I notited a lot of ‘tools of va- I've got a whole basement full | You've got | waving a| rlous kinds, from bricklayers' trow- els to plumbers stoves, so when I got back I gave Millish two tens and told him to go’ bargain-hunting. He was gone haif an hour or more, but when he finally staggered down the stairs he had both arms full, includ- Ing saws, pipe wrenches, planes and an assorted lot of screwdrivers. “They'd have cost you a hundred if you got 'em new.” he assures me. “You shoulda heard me beat the old motzer down. Say, I'm some shop- per, Miss Dodge.” “We've both admitted that you're a genius, haven't we, Andy?” says I “Then let's see if you can detail enough carpenters to take those old packing boxes and make some benches along the wall.” T watched his squad tackle the job and it waspt long before I'd | | ANOTHER HAD BEEN spotted two who seemed to be just stalling around. “How about ‘em, Andy?” T asks. going to be useful?” says he. “That pair ain't even third-rate wood butchers, and they told me—" “Then, bring ‘em up here.” says 1. And when I had them on the carpet I wasted very little breath. “Shed the uniforms. you two,” says 1. “Ah, what's wrong, Miss?” asks one. “My error,” says I “T shouldn't have dragged you in out of the fresh alr. Go back to the park and finish your rest. On your way now. And somehow this little slave- driver play of mine seemed to do a lot of good. Those who were left stepped a bit livelier and took to touching their caps whenever they came up to the desk for orders. “Never mind the polite flourishes, says I “Wera all Handy Andys here, and as long as you stick to that we're going to get along to- | gether fine. Now, who's shifty gnough with wiring to bring a phone down from the fourth floor and cut it in here?” Don’t tell any of the Bell people, but | that little act kept one of my Andys busy just twenty minutes. Another rigged up a drop-light over my desk. A third got some red and black paint and frescoed a big sign over the base- ment door. “Now I guess we're all set to fill any orders they want to send in,” I announced. “Hello! I bet there’'s one now.” It was. A boarding-house landlady on East 18th wanted to know if I could send a man who could take the squeak out of a swing door, set a pane of glass, stop a leak in the sink pipe and open a wardrobe trunk that had been shut wjith the key inside. “Andy’s coming right around,” says 1. Then came a call from a private house on West 11th street, where a nervous-talking man wanted two stair-treads fitted with hinges and locks. “To keep valuable.papers in,” he explained. “I get you,” says 1. “That'll make room for about twelve quart bottles. Andy will be right on the job, and he'll forget it afterwards.” Next a customer in the West Six- ties asked if we could rig a wire trolley-run in the back yard for his police dog and bulld some sort of kennel out of a dry-goods box. * ok X AY, they do read the papers, don't théy? By noon I'd sent out all but two of my men and the calls were still coming in. “We shall need five or six more tomorrow,” I told Millish. “See if you can't work the dragnet again and get them. - “Sure!” says he. “I'll have the others pass the word and we'll get ‘em.” On the strength of which I wrote out some new ads for the papers. “Need a balky door cured, or a sticky. wardrobe drawer loosened up, or a broken window made whole? Call The Handy Andy Shop.” This ‘was one of them. Another one that I rather fancied was: “Our Handy Andys always at your service. Tney'll tackle any odd job you may name.” 1 was getting a bit chesty. The thing had gone to my head. You see, sitting there at the phone and having all these different people teH me their troubles, and sending men out to fix them up, was giving me more or less of a thrill. T'd discovered a new ir.- dustry, as it were, and I thoaght I knew all about it. But, say, about the third day I found that even a two-by-four enter- prise like mine can be complicated. I was running sgainst angles that I hadn’t looked for, problems I hadn’t expected. Also the business was de- veloping so fast that I could hardly keep up with it. When you start to serve any percentage of four million people you've bitten off quite a mouthful. For some of ‘em are hound to be queer birds. { 3 DECOYED OUT TO FIX A LEAKY WAT! For Instance, Andy No. 15 phones in from Greenwich Village that after ! he's stopped a zas leak and put a new ilock on a studio door the lady artist wants him to wear a cowboy outfit and pose for an hour or so, and shall he do it. “Why not?’ says 1. And No. 8 reports from Harlem that the mother of three children has asked him to stay and look after 'em until ishe can go down to an employment bureau and hire a new nursemaid. Another had to help an old couple capture a green parrot that had es- jcaped from his cage and was perched lon a roof water tank two blocks jaway. One Andy turned in a charge | slip indicating that he'd put In an hour and a half playing checkers with a fussy old boy who was lald up with a broken leg, and another had been decoyed out to fix a leaky water pipe Py ER PIPE COUPLE WANTED HIM TO ACT AS BEST MAN. land found that an eloping couple wanted him to act as best man at an | impromptu wedding. “It may be,” I observes to Millish, {“that we're overdoing this advertis- {ing a little. They'll be using us as a { detective bureau, asking us to send a | squad of strike-breakers or calling on | us for theater escarts, the next thing | we know.” “I had to help hook up a lady's dress the last place I was." says he, “and another dame asked if I'could sub in as cook where they had a din- ner party on and the Polish girl had walked out on ‘em.” “Ot course says I, “we want to he helpful as.well as handy, but there are limits. I hadn't exactly planned to run a general utility bureau, but that's the way it seems to be working out. And another thing, Millish, doesn't it strike you that our men are losing a lot of time going and com- ing?" “Uh-huh!” says he. “They're all over the place, jumpin’ here and there. ridin’ on L trains and subways and waitin’ for crosstown car: “And while they're doing that,” 1 goes on, “I'm paying them so much a week and they're earning nothing at all. That's poor system, Millish. We don't even keep track of ‘em.” “You said it” says he. “But I could fix up something so you could, I expect. I just had a hunch how to do it “Produce,” says 1. * ok ¥ % 'OU wouldn't think, either, with that fadeaway chin of his and those narrow set eyes, that he had 50 much above the ears. But inside of an hour he’s turned out something that an efficiency expert would work in a month and charge a thousand dollars for. He's taken a 50-cent map of the city, pasted it on a smooth board. varnished it, and hung it be- side my desk. Then he hands me a box of thumb tacks, each with a number painted on the top. “There you are, Miss Dodge,” says he. “Now if you check up the late calls you can focate every man.” “Why, it looks like one of those chain store charts!" says I, after I had placed all the thumb tacks. “We have a man in the Bronx, one on West 35th street, another up on Dyk- man avenue, one at 126th and Madi- son and so on. We surely are spread- i ing ourselves out, Millish. And think of the waste motion, not to mention the car fares both ways. This will never do. We are working up more overhead than we can stand.” “Gotta bunch our hits, eh?” sug- gests Millish. “That's the very idea” says I “But just how to do it is what puz- zles me. Let's think it over.” Well, "Millish scratched his head and tried, and T rubbed my chin and tried, but we didn't get anywhere. And fhat night at dinner both Uncle Nels and Inez cheered me up by tell- ing me I was looking worried. “You better quit that Handy Andy foolishness and get a good job,” ad- vises Ines. “I bet you lose all your money payin’ them bums to ride around with thelr fancy caps on,” adds Uncle Nels. “Business ain’t for girls.” “Is’t it, though?’ says L “Say, don’t get me wrong. I'm having the time of my ‘life running that shop. I've got a fine lot of men working for me, too. They're clever and most ot 'em are hustlers, and I'm going to make a go of the thing. Only it may take a little time. There are a few details I've got to work out, though.” “Like how to take in enough to meet your pay roll and expenses, eh?” said Uncle Nels. : “Absolutely,” says L “But Tll do it it I have to think my fool head right,” says Uncle Nels. “When you go bust help you get a good job somewhere.” “Fair enough,” says I “But don’t stretch your ears waiting to hear me|going. T hope the sensation lasts.” > . shout for help.” ND with that I stopped worrying and went out with Barry Platt to see a new play that the Theater Guild was putting on. I meant to try out. my old plan of sleeping on the puzzle, letting it simmer over night. And sure enough in that five minutes between the time when the alarm clock went off and before my feet hit the floor I'd doped out the new scheme, Before breakfast was over it was all clear. “I've got it, Millish,” I°announced as I walked into the office. *“No more of that broadcast ad stuff. That's fine for certain lines, but not foF ts. ‘We will now proceed to organize on the block system.” “Enh?” says Millish. “Houge to house soliciting in defi- nite areas,” I explained. “We will pick out a few likely blocks in one part of town and fine toothcomb ‘em for orders. That will bunch our hits for us. And I shall need two bright, smooth-talléng, youpg college hicks to AND FOUND THAT AN ELOPING 80 after business. ad right aw I was still busy getting it just right when in blew a breezy, neat dressed youth with patent leather hair and a winning smile. “Good morning,” says he. “I'd like to interest you in some giit edged bonds that—" e “Can’t be done.” says I. “I'm in- vesting every dollar I've got in my | business here and | “Exactly,” says he. *“And very soon | You're going to have a surplus tha: | you're not going to know what to d> | with. Now don't confuse bonds with shares of stock. Lots of folks do. A bond. you know, is a first lien an any | property. The stockholder may losa | what he puts in, but the man who |owns a bond— “Say, that’s a fine line of patter, young man” says I, “but it's all wasted on me.” He stared at me for a moment, grinned foolish, then drupped ‘nto a chair with his shoulders slumped. “It's a hard old world, sn't it?" says he. “If you don’t belleve it, miss, | try to sell bonds on commission. Why I've worn out two palrs of shoes and |1 haven't unloaded enough bonds to pay for having ‘em half soled.” “Why stick at_it, then?” I asked. “Don't know of any other good line,” says he. ‘Allow me,” says T. use you right here “How?” =ays he, looking around at my bunch of Handy Andy’s. “Oh, not wearing the blue denims and carrying a bag of tools,” says I “I doubt if you could put in a new window weight or unhinge a door without using an axe. But perhaps you could tease odd job orders out of people who need such things done. Want to glve it a try?” “Would there be board money in it?" he demands. “Unless you have a suite at the Am- bassador,” says I. “I'll guarantee you {five a day and a five per cent bonus on all your turn in above a certain amount.” 'l frame up a want “I think I can | “Say,” says he, drawing a long breath, “you've hired somebody. When can I start in?" “You've started,” says I “Now, here’s the idea—" * ok % ¥ F course, I couldn’t tell how it would work out, but I gave him two residential blocks up in the West Seventies and told him to go to it. » “Don’t miss a leaky water piper or a broken pane of glass,” I told him. “Today you may phone in the calls after you've collected five or more, but after this you'll make dates only for the following day and bring In your memos the night before. Now 8o to 1t.” ‘Was it a good hunch? Say, by noon T had eight Handy Andys all at work in those same two blocks, and each With from two to four jobs apiece. They'd go from house to house, from apartment to apartment. No time out for riding all over town, and only a round trip carfare for each. It lgoked as If my new find was a prize, or else a lot of these odd jobs had been pil- ing up for months. As a matter of fact, I expect it was a little of both, Anyway, I'd put the business on a paying basis, for at two an hour and no calls made for less I couldn't lose. All I needed now was another smooth- talking youth, or perhaps two, and I could sénd out as many men as I could hire. I was alone in the shop, sitting at my desk and gazing at the city chart with all the thumb tacks clustered in one spot, when Uncle Nels walked in. He looked curious at the'map, too. “It's a big place, New York, eh?” says he. 1 “None too big for me,” says I. “Huh!” says he. “You feelin’ that way, Trilby May?" g “I expect I feel,” says I, “like John D. did when he got his first oll gusher (Copyright, 1822, by Sewell Ford.; _PART 12 " MR. DOOLEY ON BANTING SEE th’ good woman goin® by here at a gallop today,” sald Mr. Dooley. “She’s thryin’ to rayjooce her weight,” sald Mr. Hennessy. * “What £'r?” “I don’t know. She looks all right,” sald Mr. Hennessy. “Well,” sald Mr. Dooley, “’'tis a strange thing. Near ivrybody I know is thryin’ to rayjooce their wéight. Why sh'ud a woman want to be thin onless she is thin? Th' idee iv female beauty that all gr-reat men, fr'm Julius Caesar ta mesilf, has held is much more like a bar’l thin a clothes- pole. Hogan tells me that AlekXander’s wife an' Caesar's was no light- weights., Martha Wash'nton was short but pleasantly dumpy, an’ An- dhrew Jackson's good woman Weighed two hundhred an' smoked a pipe. Hogan says that all th' potes he knows was In love with not to say {fat, but ample ladies. Th' potes tHm- silves was thin, but th’ ladies were chubby. A pote, when hé" has wurruked all day at th' typewriter, wants to rest his head on a shoulder that won't hurt. Shakespeare's wife was thin, an’ they quarreled. Th' lady that th' Eystalian pote, Danty, made a fool iv himsilf about was no akeliton. All th’ pitchers lv beautiful women I've iver see had man-ny curves an’ siv'ral chins. Th' photty- graft iv Mary Queen iv Scots that I have in me room shows that she took on welght afther she had her dhress made—th’ collar looks to be chokin’ her. “But nowadays ‘tis th’ fashion to thry to emaclate yersilf. I ate sup- per with Carney th' other day. It {was th’ will {v hiven that Carney sh'ud grow fat, but Carney has a will Iv his own, an’ 'r ten years he's been thryin' to look like Sinitor Lodge, whin his thrue model was Judge Taft. He used to scald himsiif iv'ry {mornin' with a Quart iv hot wather on gettin’ up. That did him no good. Thin he thried takin' long walks. Th' long walk rayjooced him half a pound and gave him a thirst that made him take on four pounds iv home brew. Thin he rented a horse an’ thried horseback ridin’. Th, horse liked his weicht no more thin Carney did, an’ Carney gained ten pounds in th' hospital. He thried starvin’ him- silf an' he lost two pounds %n' his job 'r bein’ cross to th’ boss. Thin he raysumed his reg’lar meals an' [ sugar. 1 ses him at breakfast wan morning’. Nature had been kind to Carney in th' matther iv appytite. T won’t tell ye what he consumed. It's too soon afther supper, an' th' room is close. But, anyhow, whin his wife bad tottered in with th’ last flapjack an' fainted, an’ whin T begun to wondher whether it w'ud be safe to stay, he hauled a little bottle fr'm his pocket an' took out a small pill ‘What's that?” says 1. *'Tis what 1 take in place Iv sugar,’ says he. ‘Sugar is fattenin’, and this rayjooces th' weight,’ sayg he. ‘An’ ar-re ye goin’ to match tMat poor little tablet against that breakfast” says I ‘T am,’ says he. ‘Cow'rd! says L ACCORD URDELL was frem the west. He had not been in New York in vears. He had left the city under what censori- ous persons might call a cloud, but that is another tale. He was not prosperous when he departed, but now he looked like money in large denom- inations, and he knew it. The west is a great territory for rehabilitation. Burdell was dressed so well that one might take him at first glance for 1a veritable New Yorker. A close in- spection, however, would suggest that his metropolitan air was super- ficlal. By some trick of chemistry, his hair and moustache—the latter adornment having a flowing amplitude long out of fashion in the metropolis—were lalmost youthful. To syuchronize with the hard lines of his face they should have shown something of the gray that appropriately goes with certain years. His hands, perhaps, would also have testified to the flight of time If they had been naked. They were slickly gloved. Burdell had a jaunty air for one of his age and a persistent smile. But there was guile in his eyes. He had taken a room at a Broad- way hotel, where he had just dined, and was walking that thoroughfare as electricity began to give it a bril- liance fascinating to strangers. And, like so many men from out of town who visit New York for a good time, safe from the suspicious eyes and dis- praising minds of neighbors in smaller places, Burdell had un eye for the fair sex as he strolled: Literally he had two eyes for their perusal. * k¥ % i W and then Burdell ogled a pass- ing beauty, but all thus favored | seemed to be in @ hurry. Finally he saw ahead a woman whose figure was pleasing. She turned into a cross street in the G50s and proceeded eastward, and he followed. There {are always many male strangers in New York that regard the world’s chiet city as infinitely and endlessly wicked, a condition which few of them make any effort to modify. Burdell finally overtook the woman, and where the light was less pene- trating he strode to her side. It was not too dark to hide her pleasing as- pect. She was well dressed, and from a fetching little turban a profusion of blond hair struggled. “Good evening, miss!” he ventured. “Can you direct me to the Grand Cen- tral terminal?” “You are quite a distance north and west of the terminal,” she replied as she scanned his face carefully under a light they were passing. “You might walk over to Madison avenue and take a downtown car. It passes the terminal.” And she scanned his face n. "'ll'hlnk you! You don’t mind my walking over to the avenue with you, do you? Do you know, your voice seems familiar to me!” “Voices are much alike. I am not in the habit of walking with strangers. But I see no harm in walking that short distance with you, sir.” They walked in silence for a space. “It’s rather lonesome in'New York for a stranger,” remarked Burdell “An awful big town! “No acquaintance here?” ot a soul. I'm from Milwaukee. | | « J1 don’t want to offend, but I'd like to!eral made up his mind to cut out th'! “r\H’ latest thing that Carney has took up to make th' fight again’ nature is called Fletching. Did vye iver hear Iv it? Well, they'se a la-ad be th' name v Fletcher who thinks 50 much iv fis stomach he won't use 1t, an’ he tells-Carney that if he'll ate on’y wan or two mouthfuls at iv'ry meal an’ thurly crew thim he will invinchooly be no more thin skin an’ bone an’ very handsome to look at. In four weeks a man who Fletches will lose forty pounds an' all his fri'nds. Th' idee is that ve mumble yer food f'r tin minyuts with a watch in front Iv ve. “This night Carney was Fletching. | Tt was a fine supper. Th' table | groaned beneath all th’ indilicacies 1Iv th' season. We tucked our napkius undher our chins an’ prepared fr a jaynfal avenin’. Not so Carney. He laid his goold watch th table, took a mouthful- iv mutiton pie and {begun .to Fletch. At first Hogan thought he was makin' faces at him. BYFINLEY PETER DUNNE. . I | me nervous! |stop f'r a minyit Tll throw some- “HOGAN SAYS THAT ALL THE POTES HE KNOWS WAS IN. LOVE Wl:l'l-l.‘ 1 OT TO SAY FAT, BUT AMPLE LADIES. where_Carney can’t hear. It might make him laugh an' hurt him with his fri'nd Fletcher. No? What? Ye don't say? An' didn’t Carney resint {1t? Haw, haw, haw! This eyesther sauce’ls th’ best I iver see! Michael, this is like ol' times. Look at Schwartzmeister! ~He's Fletching, too! No, be gorry, he's chokin'! I think Carney's watch has stopped. iNo wondher—he’s lookin’ at it! Haw, (haw, haw, haw, haw! A good joke |on Carney! DId ve iver see such a face? Carney, me buck, ye look like a movie comedian. L What is a face without a stomach? Carney, ye make If that there idol don’t Carney, tine's up! | thing at it! Ye jwin yer bet, but ‘twas foolish wan. I thought e were go | Fletcher in a wheelbarrow? “I've known Jawn Carney, man an’ | boy, f'r forty vear, but I niver knew jontil that minyit that he was a { murdher at heart. Th' look he give to push but I explained that he was crazy." 1 see be th' look in Carney’s eye that | he didn’t like th' explanation, but we wint on with th supper. Well, ‘twas sloryous. ‘Jawn, yer healin! Pass th’ beefsteak, Malachi. Schwartz- meister, ol boy, can’t I help ve to th’ part that wint over th!.fence last? What's that story? Tell it over here, us whin he snapped his watch was turrble, -but th’ Jdook he give 1o’ | dinner was aven worse. He set there £r two mortal hours, miditatin’ what form th' assassynations wud take an' | g ‘_chmn‘ ‘each wan iv us in his mind. | 1 walked home with-him to see.that he |came to o haym: Nedr th' house he ! wint irfto a baker's shop an’ bought ! four pies an'.a bag iv doughnuts. ! ING TO HIS FOLLY BY J. A. WALDRON i I ih Mt | Ui 1 111111 ik [ | AN A find some one to go to & theater with me and have a little supper after the play.” “Some man, I suppose!” The sar- casm was noted, but he came back. “On the contrary, some lady, like yourself, miss.” Burdell believed that a woman past actual youth is always pleased to be called a miss, and that reiteration in such a case is wise. “Then you aren’t going out of town? I thought you \wanted the terminal.” “Oh, that was just an excuse. see, I'm candid, miss.” T A 1little harmless flirtation is your object.” There was nething like resentmeént in her tonme. “Well, I know a theater over here a little distance that I'm willing to attend with you. It's not one of those flashy Broadway playhouses, but the home of real drama. And there is comedy in it, too, and realism. “I surely would like to visit it with you, miss.”- “Very well. formance.” You *We will attend a per- * * % ¥ - walked on. She took Madl- son avenue upward and sfter sev- Dlocks gies “GOOD EVENING, MISS,” HE VENTURED. turned again into a cross i e R street. And she chatted in a way that convinced Burdell he was in for a pleasing evening. As they approached a rather im- posing building over the steps leading to which green lights appeared a policeman loomed ahead. She beck- oned to the officer. “What's this? A police station?” Burdell asked. “You guessed right the very first time,” she replied. And then to the officer who had come up: “Arrest this man. I wish to make a complaint!" “A masher, eh? Come along!” said the officer, taking Burdell's arm. “But this isn't quite regular, miss!” protested Burdell. “I haven't meant anything wrong?! “They all get that off! Come along, I say!” was the officer's verbal con- tribution. The three entered and faced a ser- geant at the desk, Burdell still pro- testing volubly. _“What's up?” the sergeant asked. “Another chaser?” 5 “The lady wanted him pinched,” the officer replied. As he speechlessly stared at the woman in the better light Burdell scemed to be paralysed. X 3 ‘I've promised tc take thim home to me wife,’ he says. ‘I thought she was out iv town,’ says I. ‘She’ll be back in a°week,' says he. °‘An’, anayhow, Misther Dooley, I'll thank,ye not to be pryin' into'me domestic affalrs’ he says. Z “An’ there ye ar-re! What's th’ use iv goln’ up again’ th' laws fiv nature, says L If mature irtinded.ye to be a little roly-poly, a little roty- poly ye'll be. They ain't annything to do that ye ought. to do that'll make ye thin an’ keep ye thin. Th' wun thing in th’ wurruld that'll ray- jooce ye surely is lack iv sleyp, an’ who wants to lose his mind with his flesh? I'll guarantee with th’ aid iv an alarm clock to make an-ny man a livin' skeliton in thirty days. A.lady with a young baby won't piver get no chubbler, nor th' gintleman, fis jfather. Th' on'y ginooine anti-fat threatment is sickness, worry, throuble an’ insomnya. i * % % % GPTH’ &cales aln't anny judge ‘iv beauty or health. To be beauti- ful is to be nachral. Ye have gr-reat inachral skinny beauty, while my good looks is more buxum. Whin I see an ol’ fool in & sweater an’ two coats sprintin’ . up th' street and | gronin’ at iv'ry step I want to join | with the little boys that ar-re throw- jin’ bricks at him. If he takes off th' flesh that nature has wasted on his ongrateful frame, his skin won't fit him. They'se nawthin’ more heejous to look at than a fat man that has {rayjooced his weight. He looks as | though he had bought his coverin’ at |an auction. It bags undher th' eyes {an’ don't fit in th’ neck. “A man is foolish that thries to be 00 kind to his stomach, annyhow. | Fletcher's idee is that th® human | stomach is a sort iv little Lord Faun- \tleroy. If ye give it much to do it will pine away. But Dock Casey tells me ‘tis a gr-reat, husky, good-na- |tured pugilist that’ll take on_most annything that comes along. It will 2o to wurruk with grim resolution on ‘a piece {v hard coal. It will get ith* worst iv it, but what I mane to | say is that it fears no foe an’ doesn't | dhraw th* color line. “I w'ud put it in th’ heavy.weight class, an’ it ought to be kept there. It requires plenty iv exercise to be |at its best, an'. if it doesn't get {enough it loses its power untll a | chocolate eclair might win against lit. It mustn’t be allowed to shirk it | jooties. It sh'ud be kept in thrainin.' an’, says Dock Casey, it its owner is |a good matchmaker an’ doesnt bacl {1t again’ apponents that ar-re out i | its class or o0 manny at wan tim it will still be doin’ well whin tn brain is on'y fit £'r light exercise.” “D've expict to go on accumyluti flesh to th’ end iv yer days?’ asker Mr. Hennessy. “1 do that” said Mr. Doolev. *i expict t0 make me fri'nds wurrus ifr me to th' last They'll bef no ety among th’ pallbearers at mc obsequles. They'll have no sinycure. Befure they get through with me | they'll know they've been to a | fun'ral.” 2 | | i | | | (Copyright, 1923.) “He accosted me,” she explained 1o | the sergeant. “Wanted me to go to the | theater with him and have supper jafterward. “Name?" queried the sergeant, look- {ing at Burdell. “His name is Josiah Burdell” the {woman answered. | “Gee!” exclaimed Burdell, coming Ito 1ife. “I thought it was you. | Josephine! But your hair used to be ! black and your teeth——" Never mind my halr and teeth! She turned to.the desk. “This man is my husband. Deserted me ten years ago. He was a poor coot then. but now he looks like a million do!- lars, and I want him locksd up till ‘we can come to terms!" The Ocean’s Waves. THERE are few things about which more exaggerated stories are told by people who honestly méan to speai the truth than about the steepness and height of ocean waves. The excitement attending a storm at sea is 5o great that even the coolest observer -is apt to lose his power of accurate judgment and the waves amid which his ship i= tossing and plunging impress his imagi- nation as if they were really “mountain- high.” S0 a person riding tn a small boat on | rough sca imagines that the waves into whose trough he sinks with a ! sickening sense of goigg to the bot- | tom are not only of enormous height, but that their sides resemble walls of water rather than long slopes. The truth is that it is very rare for waves at sea, even in a furious storm, to exceed thirty feet in height. In exceptional tempest they may reach sixty feet. A French savant finds that in the trade winds the waves average only five or six feet in height. The ordi- nary observer would estimate them to be at least twice as high. The harder thg wind blows, the faster the waves run and the ‘steeper they become; yet they are never as | steep as-they seem to be. In an ord!- nary wind the slope of 2 wave is about one foot in thirty-three; in a storm it become one foot in seven- teen or eighteen. In other words, the slope of storm waves is only ten or eleven degrees from the horizontal. The impression of great steepness | that the waves give to one in a small |boat is due to the swiftness of their passage. Only a few seconds elapse {while the boat is being lifted from |the trough to the crest of a wave several hundred feet in length. The feeling it that of being driven up {the face of a clift of water. | Milk Purification. | A aparatus used abroad for pur fying milk by ozonization con- sists of two vessels placed one above the other, so that the milk can flow from the upper to the under vessel in a thin stream. The carbon points of an electric arc-light are then ar- ranged one on each side of the stream of falling milk, so that the electric arc is formed In or close to the stream. It is asserted that the ozone engendered by the electric cur- rent round the stream is effective in killing all the micro-organisms that the mik may e?nu;n. i