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1 I ^ t "= rv _ I 8 E HEARST’S SUNDAY AMERICAN, AT1.ANTA, GA., SUNDAY, JUNE 1, 1913. A Funny Story of an Eloquent Roll of Bills J OHN HARRINGTON starts out with $3,0 00 in his pocket to pay for a bungalow he has Just bought, but winds up at the race track. He loses the money and an additional $100, which he raises on his wife's necklace. An old friend, Bruce Ascot, a rich owner of race horses, finds him, after three days' absence, afraid to face his wife, and takes him home. Leaving Harrington outside, he goes Into the house and finds Cherie Berman, friend of Mrs. Harrington. A SCOT—How do you do? I am Bruce Ascot CHERIE—Bruce Ascot? Connected with the race track, no doubt. ASCOT—There's no doubt about It; It’s a cinch. I used to be a ball player; then I switch- ed and bought a stable of horses. Now I’m about six blocks up Easy Street and wulklng fast. CHERIE—Where do yon go from there? ASCOT—Say, every time I think of that bun. die of bills I have got In the bank I feel so good I want to run over to Philadelphia and laugh at the Mint CHERIE—Pardon me, lait didn’t you send this telegram here a while ago? A SOOT—I sent a telegram to your husband Thursday. CHERFE—Not my husband—my friend's hus band. I’m not married. ASCOT (tipping hat)—How do you do? CHERIE—Are you married? ASCOT—No, Pm still living a la carte. So you’re not married, oh? CHERIE—No, I have never been properly approached. ASCOT—Say, ask me again to alt down; I want to talk to you a minute. CHERIB—Won’t you sit down, and won’t you take off your hat? ASCOT—No, I always keep my hat on In ease of Are. CHERIE—Tell me, wae your business with Mr. Harrington particular? ASCOTT—Well, It Is more particular for Har rington than tt la for me. CHERIE—You eee, John hasn’t been home for three days—he and his write had a quarrel. ASOOT—They did? What did they quarrel about? CHERIE—She thought that the dining-room carpet should be dark green and he Insisted 1t should be dark red. ASCOT—80 John goes out and gets a dark brown taste In his mouth? The last time I saw him he was leading a throe-days' Jag around by the hand and talking to It like a child. CHERIE—Where was he? ASCOT—Confidentially, he wss down to the race track. CHERIE—His wife must never know he has been to the races! ASCOT—Don't you want me to tell her? CHERIE—Not for the world. ASCOT—Well, then, as far as that episode Is concerned I have lost my voice. CHERIE—Why didn't you send him home? ASCOT—Well, I did—I tried to. I turned him around and pointed him 1n the direction of home and tried to shove him away, but he wouldn't go. Then he put his hand In his pocket and pulled out this "Neck Warmer." CHERIE—Jane’s locket, with my picture tn tt! ASCOT—Is that your picture? OI1KRIB—How did you come by that? ASCOT—I’ll tell you. John came to me down to the track day before yesterday and said he had lost a lot of money on the races. CHERIE—Three thousand dollars. AflCOT—Three thousand dollars? What was be doing with three thousand dollars In his pocket? CHERIE-r-He bought a bungalow and was going to pay for It to-day. ASCOT—Now, what do you think of that! Anyway, he opened his pocketbook to prove It, and I saw that locket there, so I slipped him a hundred and put the locket and pocketbook In my pocket. CHERIE—Did he bet the $100? ASCOT—Yes, he bet on a horse called Misfit. Misfit couldn’t win from a street roller. Misfit originally belonged to a tailor, and that Is why, coming down the hsunestrstoh, he crossed his hind legs and sat down on the track. (Hiuiness of searing.) CHERIE—I’ll tell yon what to do. You give me that locket and take this $100 he borrowed. ASCOT—No, I can get It from John. CHERIE—This 1s John's money. AflCOT—I don’t believe It. CHERIE—He gave me this money to buy his wife a hat In Paris. ASCOT—Say! I’ve got an awful good thing Billings Builds a Bungalow (Almost) Copyright.. 1018, bj th» Star GamjMuiw Great Britain Righto n*»«rred. The Third Attack—THE TEMPORARY ROOF, "Are you hurt?" she B ILLINGS had worked hard on his bungalow upon the hill. This was because Mrs. Bill ings declared he could not. build one. To be sure, he started his foundation In a bog and lost the foundation stones and had to take Ills wife's advice and build It on a knoll. He also started to build two chimneys for adjoining rooms, until his wife discovered It, and he forgot to put In a front door. He also neglected window sashes, nailing the windows In, but with these trifling mis takes rectified (he called them trifling) ho was bound to build that bungalow or bust, as be so euphoniously put it. This day he had the roof on. when his wife came S to the building. It did look rather attractive, wttn the red tiles. He bad changed his mind about a green roof and was covered tt with red tiles. ried "Isn’t that simply great7" he asked Mrs. Billings, waring his arms eloquently. 1 ca "H’mm," replied his wife, looking It over crftl- fact.eally. mig "Now, look-a-here, Grace, If you can't say any thing except 'H’mm,' why don't come down here at lor all. Tell me, what’s the matter with that roof?” wif "Why—er—Horace, It does look pretty good, ex- lig cept that Lgly old line of hoards along the eaves." "Oh, Is that’all!” he snorted, in disgust. "Well, k. let me tell you, those boards are not permanent When I told you I was building a temporary roof, I [ expected to do different, bnt I have decided to make It permanent, and those old boards bear the same relation to that roof that —er—that basting threads bear to a drees. I had to put them in there to start tt Now, to prove It, I will yank them off," and Bllflngs ran up the ladder, grasped a hammer and v 0 (’ ‘I — egan pounding at the boards. "Don’t do that, Horace!” commanded Mrs. BU- ngs. Billings paused, looked at her pityingly, grinned 1 resumed his hammering. But Horace, if you do. you will ” Now. look here, Grace, what do you know about h work? Those boards were only guides, :d " ‘‘But Horace, If you take those boards off ” “Ho, ho!” laughed Billings, waving his arms to pace her. Then he resumed his hammering. Mrs. Billings was evidently disgusted, but she urried back quite a distance from the bungalow, .: t down and waited. She did not have to wait so very’ long, for the iards came off with a snap. And at the same .slant, every tile on that side of the roof slid off ith a rush, taking the ladder and Billings with .hem. When Billings picked himself up out of the dust and debris of shattered tiles, his wife was at his side, * t A’ l'. asked. “No, 1 am not hurt, but ” and here followed a line of talk that only a mule driver could guess at. ’’And I don't see anything funny, either," snapped Billings, looking at his wife, who was laughing uproariously. “Here's all my work gone, about $20 worth of tiles ruined and my life in Jeopardy; Just why you should laugh ” “Now, Horace,” chided Mrs. Billings, when she could get her breath, "don’t get peevish, I tried to tell you ” "Tell me what?" asked Billings, with sickening suspicion. "Why, I tried to tell you that it looked to me as though you had not secured your tiles, but were letting them all rest against those boards, and It looked to me also as though they would do Just what they did If you removed the boards and " “Well, there’s no use standing there and Jawing about a little mistake like that. Mistakes are apt to happen. Why, even the best of carpenters make mistakes now and then. Don’t you worry. I’ll have this bungalow done in another week." Mrs. Billings stepped cautiously inside the half completed bungalow. She tested the walls, and as they were pretty shaky, she hastily stepped out again. "Oh, don’t be alarmed; It won’t fall down on you ” began Billings. "You are a good mind reader,” she replied. "I was afraid of just that. It seems so shaky ’’ “They all do until they are completed. When I get the inside sheathing up it will be as solid as a atone wall," explained Billings. "I think," he added, "that tiles are too heavy for a root. I will use large shingles and stain them green, as I first planned.” i h “But the roof doesn’t seem very (Strong, Horace," Mrs. Billings com plained, “and as long as you said this was to be permanent roof, I thought ’’ “Well, It will be strong enough when it Is done. Say, you are the finest kill-joy I ever saw. I didn’t Invite you out here to criticise me and laught at me. I asked you out to give me a word of praise now and then, and " "Look out!” shouted Mrs. Billings, running away from the building. Billings looked at her In amazement for a second, then the wind, which had been blowing half a gale, freshened up a bit and, getting inside the bungalow, lifted the roof clear and dropped it twenty feet away. The tiles on the other side dotted the landscape "Well ” Mrs. Billings put her hand tenderly over her husband's mouth. "Don’t say It, Hoddy, dear. IT you say such things the place will be struck by lightning, too.” “I’ll build this dashed-binged bungalow If It takes me ninety-eight million years,” yelled Billings. "You come out next week and I’ll have it painted and the furniture in; this was only a trifling little accident ■" “Oh. sure,” laughed Mrs Billings. "Just a trifling accident, and besides, your first Idea was to build a temporary roof.” And then to soothe him she prom ised to come out next week. .... , r - In the third race this P. M. That pony will go to the post at 30 to 1, and that will get you $3,000. I know, because I own the pony. It's a cinch. CHERIE—I don’t believe In cinches, and I don’t want to change the subject, but would you do me a favor? ASCOT—I believe I would. CHERIE—You mURt have gome Idea where John la. ASCOT—-Sure, I know where he Is. I have got him hid under the sidewalk outside. You see, my business here is to square John with the wife for being gone three days. You hang around here and I will have John home tn two minutes. CHERIB)—Do hurry. ASCOT—You bet I will hurry, because Pve got to go uptown to the horse show to-night OHERIE—la there a horse show in town? A8C0T—Bure, and It’s a peach. I have got a few ponies up there looking for blue ribbons, and I want to go up and help them find them. OHERIE—Oh! I Just love the horae show. ASCOT—You do? Come here a minute. Do you want to go up to the horse show with me? CHERIB—With you? ASCOT—Sure; I'm a good fellow. CHERIB—You send John home and Til think It over. ASCOT—All right. Yon ask John; he’ll give me a recommendation. I’ll go home now and put on my soup and fish. CHERIE)—Your soup and fish! ASCOT—Yes, my decollete—low neck with the spark—the strlpea on the pants, the tlug-a- llng hat and white mittens. OHERIE—One moment; first, you give me that locket and you take tbia money. ASOOT—No, you can have the locket, but you don’t let the wife see It. Slip It somewhere. (Be goes out and send* John in.) OHERIE—John Harrington! JOHN H.—Hello, Cherie, when did you gel back from Parts? CHERIB)—I arrived this morning. JOHN H.—Did you have a nloe trip? OHEIRIE—Fine. 1 understand you have been on a little trip, too. JOHN H.—Don’t mention It. CHERIB)—Wherever you went you didn’t go by water. JOHN—That’s right, hand It to me; I deserve It. I should have never taken that first drink. Liquor always goes to my head. CHERIE—There is more room for It there than any other place. JOHN—Did Jane tell you? How 1b she? ' CHERIE—She has nervous prostration, emotional insanity and Ingrowing eye brows. JOHN—Where Is she? CHERIE)—In her room. Stop! I don’t want you to see her until I smooth everything out. You go into your room and I will send her to you. JOHN—How am I going to let her know about the money? CHERIE—What money? JOHN—She knew I had $3,000 to pay on the bungalow we just bought. CHERIE)—Have you lost that? JOHN—Well, I don’t know. This morn ing when I awoke In the Turkish bath I looked for the money, but It was gone. , CHERIE)—Peace and joy! By the way, what were you doing with Jane’s locket? JOHN I took It to have & chain put on It CHERIE—You got In the wrong street. In stead of the chain you got $100 on it JOHN—By the way, Bruce Ascot told me to give you these. (dives her a bunch of violets.) CHERIE—Bruce Ascot! Wasn’t that thought ful of him? What kind of a man is he? JOHN—He Is the best ever. CHERIB—He looks good to me. I think I’ll tell him the stery ef my past life. JOHN—What do you mean? CHERIE—It may Interest him to know that I was left an orphan and didn’t know what to do with It. John, take these flowers and give them to Jane as a peace offering. (Be goes to his room and Ascot returns.) ASCOT—How do I look? CHERIE!—You leok lovely. An Amusing Scene from “CHERIE” as Played by CLAYTON WHITE and GEORGIA CAINE Copyright, 1933, by tn# filar rompanj. Righto Reserved. Great Britain ASCOT—You don't want her to know he has been to the races, do you? CHERIE—Not tor the world. Here is the locket, and John is over there in his room. “Say, every time I think of that bundle of bills I have got in the bank I feel so good I want to run over to Philadelphia and laugh at the MiHt.” ASCOT—I look Just the same on the other side I believe. CHERIE (pointing to low-cut vest)—Aren’t you afraid you’ll catch cold? ASCOT—No, I’ve got my sweater on under neath. Notice the lid? (Closes opera hat and lets it snap out again.) That don’t hurt it a bit That's going to get away from me some time. Notice the lining—it matches the mittens? Did you get the hollyhocks? CHERIE—The hollyhocks? ASCOT—Yes, the night blooming pizzazzns. CHERIE—You mean the violets? ASCOT—Were they violets? CHERIE—Yes, they were violets. ASCOT—Then they were violets. I sent them to you. CHERIE—It was very kind of you. ASCOT—Cost me $1.25. CHERIE—Are you going to send me violets every day? AS)COT—Every day? No; I’ll buy you a box of seeds and let you raise them yourself. CHERIB)—Be serious. Tell me, why don’t you want John's wife to see him? ASCOT—That Is a little business proposition between John and myself. CHERIE)—Business? Oh, I know 7 . You don’t want him to see her until you return this loeket. ASCOT—Well, I’ll slip It In his Inside pocket! I forgoj to tell you. I won a little money on the races since 1 saw you last. CHERIE—Good! ASCOT—You see. there is a bookmaker down to the track by the name of Rosenbaum. He is an Italian. You don’t know him, do you? Well, I've got It in for him, and w'hile I was getting my money down I ran across that one hundred lollar bill you gave me. I took a chance and got him $3,000. • CHERIE—$3,000! ASCOT (takes out roll)—Yes, speak to it; It’s talking to you. CHERIE—What’ll he do with all this money? ASCOT—What'll he do w-ith it? I don’t know. He can tear it up if he wants to, but don’t let it go back to Rosenbaum. CHERIE—I know; he "can pay for the bunga low. And she'll never know of his loss. You take this money with the locket and give them both to John. ASCOT-—I will slip It in his inside pocket. CHERIE—Say! You say you won this money on the races? ASCOT—Yes, madam. CHERIE—But It is 8 o'clAi-k at night, ana the races are over hours ago. ASCOT—I know, but these are night races. I followed them around with a lantern. Further Adventures of Harold Handover By WILLIAM F. KIRK I Jv v- Copyright, 1013, by the Star Company. Great Britain Rights Reserved. T was time for the bail game, and the largest erowd that had ever as sembled at the grounds was on hand to welcome back to Atlanta the man whose name was now on every tongue in baseballdom. ”1 hear Smith is paying him more than any pitcher in the game." re marked a large fan with watery eyes and no expression whatever. “He gets more than President Wilson.” asserted another intelligent rooter. “Twice as much. 1 heerd. 1 wonder if he blows it all. I had a uncle once that came all the way South from Denver with two hundred thousand dollars, and blew it all in a month." “There he comes now!” exclaimed everybody. And then from the multitude there arose a shout such as must have welcomed Scipio back to Rome. Base yells, shrill cheers, soprano yelps and every other form of baseball clamor imaginable greeted the won drous twirler from Oshkosh. Harold Hangover was in his glory. Stepping high, like a horse with the springhalt, and sniffing the afternoon breeze, the breeze that he had sniffed so often in other glorious days, our hero looked every inch a pic ture and a comic one, at that. Bowing to right and left until his large, intellectual ears flapped like sails before a fitful breeze, he made his way slowly toward the players’ bench. Harold Hangover, now 7 for the first time in his life, felt hot tears welling through his freckled eyelids. His father hail always been that way. Harold reflected, though his father was a butcher, and to butchers sentiment is often a thing unknown, and yet Harold Hangover felt a flush of shame mantling his corrugated cheeks as the tears splashed earthward, The knowledge that many great men had their weak mo ments served at last as a sort of tonic, however, and throwing off his sweater our hero began warming up in front of the historic stand where so many stars have taken the kinks out of their arms. "Ain't he handsome?’’ exclaimed a dainty college miss who sat with her gloomy escort. "He’s too tall.” replied the envious w 7 rap carrier. “When a man gets much over six feet he loses that natural grace w r bieh marks a real athlete.” “But you’re only four feet six.” said the girl. "You ain’t tall enough to have any natural grace. I think he is just superb! Oh. look at his fine features! What is his name?” "His name is Harold Hangover." answered her sawed-off escort, “and I don’t see why people make such a fuss over him. You better take a good long look at him hefore he goes back to the minors,” he added savagely. It was now nearly time for the game, and after the photographers SMILES Terrible Malady. Tommy’s Aunt—Won’t you have another piece of cake, Tommy? Tommy (on a visit)—No, I thank you. Tommy’s Aunt—You seem to be suffering from loss of appetite. Tommy—That ain’t loss of appe tite. What I’m suffering from is politeness. Worth of an Antique. An old lady was searching in the dim bric-a-brac shop for something odd to take home with her. Finally she noticed a quaint figure, the head and shoulders of which appeared above the counter at the farthest end of the room. She turned to the clerk and said: “What’s that queer old Japanese idol over there worth?” The clerk answered in a subdued tone; “About fifty thousand dollars, ma’am. That’s the proprietor.” Sure Enough. Will telephone users please not fire off this little joke on the poor tele phone girls any more? They tell us plaintively that they are tired of it. A subscriber asks for a number, and after a suitable interval the ex change calls politely—politely mind you; “Number engaged." The sub scriber tries again. Again comes the autocratic voice from the exchange: “Still engaged.” “Still engaged, is he?” retorts the exasperated subscriber. “Then it’s high time he was married!” A Friendly Request. He was subject to fainting spells, and before starting out he wrote this note, which he pinned to his shirt: “To the Doctor: If I fall on the street and am taken to the hospital do not operate. My appendix has been removed twice already." had snapped our hero in various poses and caught him in the act of shak ing hands with the Mayor, the umpire removed his cap and bellowed: “Batteries for to-day’s game Hangover and Dunn for Atlanta; fpr Nashville, Beck and Gibson.” The game began. ****** * For the first time in his life, Harold Hangover became afflicted with the peculiar malady known as stage fright. Stage fright is sometimes experienced by baseball players,, but In most eases it afflicts actors, who get violent attacks of it when they imagine that the manager has run away with the box office receipts while they are on the stage. In this case it was a ball player who had the stage fright, and the ball player was none other than our own hero. “He’s quitting!” exclaimed a rooter in the leftfield bleachers. “Is there a doctor In the stand?” shouted another fanatic. “(let together, Harold, get together!” urged his admiring but anxious teammates. Bui not until the bases were full in that gruesome first inning, the result of three bases on balls, did Harold Hangover stiffen up and assert his wonderful courage. Rather, his wonderful courage asserted Itself, for Harold Hangover did not know the meaning of the word fear, and was ever at his best when the skies threatened. Using his assortment of bewildering deliveries to the lies! advantage, he re tired the next three men on nine pitched balls, and walked to the players’ bench while the stands were vibrating with cheers. “You’re the same old minute man, I see,” remarked Smith, gazing fondly and admiringly at his prodigy. “What was the matter with you when you started off? I never saw you with nerves before.” Harold Hangover fidgeted for a moment before making reply. “Bill,” he asked finally, “what does ‘superb’ mean?” “Why?” asked Smith, cautiously. “There was a swell dame up in the stand who said T was superb,” answered Harold Hangover. “Is that a knock or a boost?” With memories of other swell dames and other tall pitchers coming instantly to his mind. Smith looked our hero squarely in the eyes and said. "The lady was knocking you. I wouldn’t mind her calling one of my players cowardly or homely or stupid, but she must certainly hate you if she ealled you ‘superb.’ Never mind the girls in the stands, Harold. We want to get the flag this year, and I need you. I need every bit of your skill and attention to business. Girls in the stands don’t win pennants.” Stung into a condition of dumb yet deep hatred for the girl who had smiled on him only to call him “superb,” Harold Hangover went to work in earnest. Not another Vol. rached first base during their eight in nings at bat. "I wish I knew what ’superb’ meant and why she called me such a name," mused the great hero as he walked slowly homeward from the club house that night. “I wonder if they would put it in the dictionary.” (This will be continued next Sunday.) Now, How Did He Know? Tfie talk had drifted to the weight of persons when Mr. Sappleigh ob served : “Appearances are often de ceptive. Now Miss May, here, is heavier than you would think.” In the moment of silence which fol lowed this remark the young lady’s brother asked: “How do you know, Mr. Sappleigh?” There’s a Reason. The curate of a large and fashion able church was endeavoring to teach the significance of white to a Sunday school class. “Why,” said he. “does a bride in variably desire to be clothed in white at her marriage?” As no one answered, he explained. “White,” he said, “stands for joy, and the wedding day Is the most joy ous occasion of a woman’s life.” A small boy queried, “Why do the men all wear black?” Had ’Em All. Wife—What are some of the re quirements necessary to make a suc cessful poker player, my dear? Husband (thoughtfully)—Well, a man must be cool, calculating! crafty, deceitful, selfish, sly, and have a touch of meanness In his disposition. Wife (shocked)—I should think you would not care to play with such people. Husband—Oh, I almost always win! She Couldn’t Then. A small boy had been naughty as the day drew to its close. Said mother: “Oh, Willie, you’ve been such a good boy all day, don’t dis appoint me now!” Time went on. and Willie got more naughty still. Said he to his mother, when at length she promised him a severe punishment; “Oh. you’ve been such a good mother all de.v, don’t disappoint me now!” Tables Turned. A certain American general who shall be nameless, was in company where there were some few Scotch visitors. After supper, when the wiue was served up, the general rose and addressed the company in the follow ing words: “Gentlemen. I must iuform you that wheu I have taken too much I have an absurd custom of railing against the Scotch. I hope no gentleman in the company will mind.” Up starts Mr. , a Scotch officer, and, without seeming the least dis pleased, said; “Gentlemen, I—when I am in the same condition and—and hear any person railing against the Scotch- have an absurd custom of kicking him out of the company. I hope no gentleman will mind.” One on Her. “The giraffe has a tongue eighteen inches long,” said Mrs. Talkmore. “And knows how to hold it, too,” growled Mr. T.. who had had a long- eurtain lecture the night before. * d 1 efco cigar lighter Contains an absorbent holder, which makes It. unleakable. It is so con st rue ted that the absorber can be with drawn full length from the holder. One filling will last, a month. Sure lighter and handy to carry. Extra flint with eacli lighter. Postpaid on receipt of price—50c. Successful German Invention. Great Seller In Europe. BELING 4 AMORY. Bayonne. N. i. J CATARRH! $>llNT/|£ CAPSULFS A/lID^ OF THi BLADDER fielimi III 24 Hours j