Evening Star Newspaper, April 7, 1935, Page 92

won't. I'll just walk off and leave you to it. Unless you change your mind and slip me better thing that I did than I had ever done. “Have it your own way. Well, sir, I mIano 't be in your shoes for something. '&!I' And with another of those bally sneers of his, he pushed off, chewing his all-day sucker, Alone, that is to say, except for the blighter Murphy, who at this juncture came heading in my direction, at the rate of kiots. His Eying the young thug, Murphy, as he halted before me and stood measuring his distance, exuding menace from every freckle, I found it almost impossible to believe that he‘had ever been the Idol of American Motherhood. American Motherhood, I felt, 1 backed a step. In fact, I backed several steps. And after I had finished backing about under the feet and I found that I was stand- ing on grass. There is a regulation in Beverly Hills, you may or may not know, which com- this was so. It was only too evident that in the near future I was going to be called upon to do a bit of falling, and anything that might tend to make this falling softer was welcome +0 Reginald. Up to this point, I should mention, the prpceedings had been conducted in silence, broken only by stertorous breathing on the part of the thug Murphy and a faint chatter- ing of teeth from me. It now occurred to me that a little chit-chat might serve to ease the tension. This frequently happens. I mean to say, get a conversation going and, before you know where you are, you have dis- covered mutual tastes and are fraternizing. Pongo Twistleton, of the Drones, told me once that he was confronted on a certain Buttons Or Four? Ten minutes later he, the bloke, was standing him, Pongo, a pint of mild and bitter at a near-by hostelry and he, Pongo, was touching him, the bloke, for half-a-crown to be repaid without fail on the following Wednesday. Well, I wasn’'t expecting quite such a happy issue as that, but I thought it possible that some good might come of opening a con- veysation, so I backed another step and managed to dig up a kindly smile. “Well, my little man,” I said, modelling my style on that of B. K. Burwash. “What is it, my little man?”’ He continued to breathe heavily. “Do you want my autograph, my little man?” 1 said. It was the wrong note, as I ought to have seen it would have been from the start. The THIS WEEK Laughing Gas Continued from page seven about to slip it across him with a knife or possibly a blunt instrument. But instead of buckling down to it, the poor ass will in- sist on talking. You feel like saying, “Act, to stand there with his chin out, telling me what he proposed to accomplish. He said: uAmu"u ‘“ Autograph, huh?"” ““That'll be all about autographs from you.” He said: “Do you know what I'm going to do to you? I'm going to soak you good. Do you know what I'm going to do to you? I'm going to knock the stuffing out of you. I'm going to fix you so's there ain't nobody’s going to Fun With The Famous BEATRICE LILLIES parties are always unpremeditated. Friends happen m—and games ensue. Here she tells Rita MNitchell about those she likes best Y owWN little parties are always very sudden. One morning, in a M happy mood, I may invite two or three friends for dinner and ask them to bring along anyone they wish. That evening a small multitude is apt to turn up. We usually manage to pass the time pleasantly by all talking at once and ambling in the general direction of the cocktails. Occasionally, spirits moving us, we play games. One of my favorites is called “My Yacht.” Here’s how it goes. Pul-ease! Everyone being more or less seated and silent, someone says, “I am giving a party on my yacht and want you all to come. But I can’t let you on the boat unless you each guess what two things I want you individually to bring.” Whoever is speaking decides in his own mind what he wants the two things to be. He may decide on a vegetable and a vehicle, so that if someone says, “‘I will bring an egg-plant and a trolley-car”, or ‘“an artichoke and a bicycle”, he declares they are on the yacht, to the mystification of the others present. Or he may want the two names to start with the guesser’s initials. In that case, if I said | would bring a bomb and a lollypop, I would be taken on the yacht. Very simple, as you see. Another game I enjoy is the one where you all sit around and guess the names of the ten people who, if they died today (melancholy thought or not, as the case may be) would make the front page of a newspaper in every country in the world. A great deal of fiery argument is likely to take place. I do love a fiery argument. Children’s parties are sometimes a bit baffling. (I have a son thirteen years old). The wild excitement of a circus party may leave one prostrate for weeks after the elephants have left town. An excursion with the children to an amusement park is done once, to be sure, but does not bear repetition. The memories it leaves are quite thorny. Magicians and picnics can be overdone. What, then, to do with the children? Have you ever given them a roller-skating party? Of course, if you live in the country, it becomes almost impossible. But then there are all kinds of things to do in the country. City children are more of a problem. Well, then, have the little darlings meet at three at your house, roller- skates in hand. Take them en masse to the park, (find the level spot if you can), and there let them skate their feet off, all rattling and screaming, for an hour. Then home to your house for ice-<cream and cake and maybe a brisk game of London Bridge. Heigh-ho. They do enjoy it. A word about food. At dinner I often serve what I call my “Dainty Dozen.” Don’t be alarmed. They are nothing more than hard-boiled eggs, plain or stuffed, served in a bowl. April 7, 1935 sit and say, ‘Oh, isn't he cute!’ because you won't have any face left to be cute with. Do you know what I'm going to do to you? lvmgoin‘_-!' Here he broke off, not because he had finished, for he evidently had plenty of material left, but because the ground we were standing on suddenly sort of exploded. Concealed here and there about these Beverly Hills lawns, you see, are little metal thingummies with holes in them, by means of which they are watered. One twiddle of a tap, and the whole thing becomes a fountain. And this was what had happened now. Unseen by us, some hidden Japanese hand had turned on the juice, and there we were, right in the thick of it. Well, it wasn't so bad for me. Owing to my policy of steadily backing, 1 had reached a spot which for the nonce was comparatively dry. But the excrescence Murphy chanced to be standing right over a thingummy, with the result that he copped it in the eyeball. lgukandnntecie.Whilelnmufllinmid- air, I was off and away, legging it down road. I had just remembered that it was by Until this moment, I had had little oppor- tunity of trying out this new body of mine and seeing what it was good for. A mirror had told me that it was ornamental; during caller, and presently I was seated in a chair in the living-room, endeavoring to catch up with my breath. The recent distasteful scene had shaken me a good deal. I had had no idea, until I be- came one, that the life of a child star in Hollywood was one of quite such hectic ex- assuming the outer envelope of this gifted child 1 had stepped straight into a sort of bally jungle, full of sinister creatures that might pounce at any monent. I had been musing thus for some little while, when a rummy sensation began to steal over me, and it was suddenly borne in upon me that I was dying of thirst. What with the warmth of the day and the fact that I had These symptoms puzzled me for a bit, and flmlnwwlmbadhappened.l“omettmg. ing in would be that of little Teddy Flower, I had injected so plenteous a supply of the old familiar juice that I was within a short step of being definitely blotto. It was as I made this discovery that the door opened and the butler announced: “‘Miss Amanda Wycherley." An elderly female trickled in. (To be Continued Next Week)