Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

Ah L± L\ ZI Zii. iUlltSin—jj,| BEST HUMOR, MOV1NO PICTURES, VAUDEVILLE. CAN I'Ci Do Husbands of Atlanta Need a Training School? I X London, say dispatches, they have started a school for the training of model husbands. Evenness of temper is the first thing taught. The prospectus of the school says that is the most important. What would you do, it asks, if you came home tardy to dinner and found a wife angry over the spoiled meal? What would you do if you came home, wanting dinner in a hurry, and found it not ready? What do you dQ, Mr. Atlanta? Here is a very true story, which shows what really hap pens. How about a training school for husbands in Atlanta? n, m * The transom over the door of the apartment across the hall was open. By odd chance, so also was the transom over our door flung wide. This is not often done in the very best of the Peachtree apartment houses, such as ours is, be it said with all due mod esty. (The rent we pay gives us the right to mention that.) But this was the first warm night of the season; hence the unwonted freedom of the transoms. And this is what floated to our ears, as we sat abashed but interested by the open window and looked out at the blank wall of a neighbor’s odorous garage. We heard the door of the other apartment open softly, and close as softly. Then came the woman’s voice. "Well?” it said. Polar coldness, savage menace, cyni cism—all were implied in that tone. The man laughed. It was not the most jubilant chuckle in the world. It was toneless and pathetic, and pale. “I’m a little late,” he announced, with the regretfully apologetic air of a physician diagnosing a case of mumps. Again the coldness, the menace, the cynicism; this time mingled with sarcasm. “Oh, no,” she said. “Just a small matter of an hour and thirty-five minutes. Don’t mind me. It was no trouble at all for me to keep your dinner warm. Now, don’t try to kiss me.” “Darling,” he wailed, “why did you go to that trouble?” Oh, the saccharine sorrow in that tone of his. “I didn’t,” she said. “Oh,” he said, a little flatly. “No, not after the first half-hour. Of course it doesn’t make any difference to you that the cook's gone now. But it does to me.” (Crescendo.) “Now, dear, don’t. You know I have been crazy to get ATLANTA, GA„ SUNDAY, JUNE 1, 1913. READ The Scarlet Plague By Jack London It Starts To-day in the Magazine cf HEARSTS SUNDAY AMERICAN Jeff Might Have Known Better Than Suggest It Copyright, 1913, by the Star Company. Great Britain Rights Reserved. By “Bud” Fisher Mutt and Jeff Every Day in The Georgian. { '"say, JEFF, LISTEN ? *N* GoTta raise Ttvio dollars. Have you Got *2 7 <vo! t AIN'T GOT I A Cf NT, X GOT IT, evuVT I GOT IT * m -g-t-’fa . . .. USTGN, 0*P*% ^ »N TRoufttG. IF TWFVe GOT Two bucks dont hold out. Foe. THE LOVE OP PWK& US HD IT to N\e. This is scrioos / honest, I aintt' Cot it But vlc Twit and think op WATT FOR YOU Novelet NVE think, HOVJ CAN you (LAISe two Bongs. LGT me TH/nk i;rr day to get here when I did.” “Know!” she snorted. “All 1 know is that's what you say. All I know is that I’m the goat of this house. All I know is that I get as much consideration as a dog. All I know is that your supper’s cold.” (More crescendo.) “Well, honey,” he urged, soothingly. “That’s all right. 1 ’m not hungry a bit. All I want to do is to smoke. Do you mind?” “Mind? Who? Me? Oh, no, I don't mind. Don’t think about me. You men seem to do as you please,-anyhow, you and your Ad Men’s Club.” A little hit of defiance crept into his tone, just a wee bit. It was the beginning of the end. “Anyhow,” he said, “1 was at a committee meeting this evening.” “Committee meeting! Yes. Well, what did you do? Nothing, I guess. You generally do. If we women could just vote and run things 'awhile. ” “Yes, if you could vote! Then I guess there’d be no sup per at all, and no home to come to and get bawled out. Well, maybe that would be the best tiling.” “I’ll have you know that home is just what you men make it. If you want to stay out all night, who’s fault is it? If you want to keep supper waiting, who’s fault is it? Home! Why, 1 men are responsible for every ruined home.” (For tissimo.) “Is that so? How about the wives who snort around and make a man think his home is a mad house?” “And how about the man who will bat around, and keep his wife holding her hands over a cold dinner while he’s drinking at some old club?” “Why, darn it, I toll you ” “There you go, swearing at me. And I guess you think Don’t mind me; I can go over to Mrs. Smith’s for the evening.” I’m going to keep sweet-tempered and amiable and 'oh-yes-do- as-you-like-John’ with a man who’s all the time using pro fane language. You don’t want a wife, you want an angel. You ” He had caught her scornful laugh by this time. “GOOD NIGHT!” he said. “ You sweet-tempered! You amiable!” And again : “Good night!” The end was coining. Her voice trembled. “Well, if you don’t like things around here, you can just go back downtown to your club and your booze. After I’ve been slaving my hands to the bone all day, to get this from you! Well, go on. 1 guess men just can’t help being selfish. “Well, I’ll go, then. I reckon I’ll find somebody who can use these tickets to the show.” “Show? What tickets?” “The Forsyth to-night. I thought I’d get a couple of tickets for us, but 1 wasn’t looking for all this. “Well, John, who’s fault is it?” (Moderato.) She had called his name. He was aggressive. “Who’s fault?” he said, surprisedly. “Well, say! For the love of Mike!” “Well, dear, what can you expect, after I’ve gone and fixed you a nice dinner, and then have it get cold and spoiled? If you had telephoned now—you will, next time, won’t you?” His laugh was relieved. “Well, if that’s all the trouble ” Kiss. “Say, houey,” he said. . “I’m hungry as a wolf. Ain’t there something to eat around the house?” “Well. There’s the Sunday American over ♦here. Sit down and read while 1 fix you something. You'll haw to hurry, though', if we’re going to the show.” home to you the last two hours. But that Chamber of Com merce committee ” Scornful laugh from her. "Yes, yes, go on,” she said. “The last time it was the Ad Men’s Club meeting. Well, let’s hear this new one.” A«aiu that lugubrious laugh from him. "Now, dear, don’t talk like that. They’re the best fel lows in the world.” “Oh, sure, sure. Fine fellows. Good company. Better company than your wife. More attractive than your dinner.” She is a great mimic, that woman in the apartment across the hall. This is what we heard from her (falsetto tones) : “All right, boys. Let’s thave another drink. The old lady’s at home keeping supper. No hurry. Why should I worry. He protested. "Now, honey," he wheedled. “You know it’s nothing like that. You know I had to fight off six of them the other Billy Gould and Belle Ashlyn In Chunks ol Chatter Copyright. 1913, by the Star Company. Great Britain Rights Reserved. B ILLY—All, good morning! BELLE— Do you know anything else good? BILLY—Yes, I’ve just sold my French bull dog. BELLB—How much? BILLY—Five thousand dollars. BELLE—That’s some bull. BILLY—And I have here a letter from father. BELLE—What’s he say? BILLY—Come home; the District Attorney’s dead. BELLE—I hear that beards will be worn this season. Why don’t you grow one? • BILLY—Well, I’d love to grow a beard, but I wouldn’t know what to do with It at night. BELLE—I don’t get you. BILLY—I mean I wouldn’t know whether to leave it outside the bed covers or tuck it underneath. BELLE—You're not supposed to worry about such a thing in New York. BILLY—Huh. Anybody can tell you’re from Brooklyn. BELLE—Oh, can they? BILLY—Sure. You’re always blowing about New York. BELLE—Say. what’s your opinion about the bunny and the bear, and all those dances? * BILLY—I think they're beastly. BELLE—Well, I’m writing a book about them and I just wanted to get a few opinions. BILLY—You’re writing a book? Say, jiow old are you, anyway? BELLE—I’ve Just arrived at eighteen. BILLY—What detained you? BELLE—Can you tell me what makes a man always give a woman a diamond engagement ring? BILLY—A woman. BELLE—I’m glad you admit It. BILLY—But I went into a department store this morning to buy some stockings, and— < BELLE—And what? BILLY—And the girl asked me if I wanted something for my wife or something expensive. BELLE—You have an awfully good memory. BILLY—Thank you. BELLE—Because you know some of the oldest Jokes I ever— BILLY—Pardon me, how many grandchildren have you? BELLE—Now, my dear Harry— BILLY—Harry? You mean Billy, don’t you? BELLE—Excuse me. I was thinking this was Thursday. BILLY—I saw our maid Bridget pencilling her eyebrows the other night. BELLE—She’d better look out. She’ll be arrested. BILLY—What for, assisting Nature? BELLE—No. Changing the map of Ireland, BILLY—I went fishing the other day. BELLE—Catch anything? BILLY—Don’t say that. This is a new fish story. BELLE—Well, go ahead. BILLY—But as the story goes, I didn’t catch anything anyhow. They told me the fish were all asleep. BELLE—Asleep? Where do fish sleep? BILLY—In the river beds. BELLE—Speaking of water and things, how do you like my new bathing suit? BILLY—I can’t see It BELLE—What! BILLY—I mean it’s a peach. There’s nothin’ to It BELLE—What do you think of my complexion? BILLY—It’s the clearest I’ve ever seen. BELLE—Really? BILLY—I can Bee right through it BELLE—Well, my hair is all my own anyway. BILLY—It’s false. BELLE—It’s true. Didn’t I pay for It? BILLY—There goes a man down the street who has a regular baseball family. BELLE—Greetings of the season. BILLY—Yes. His wife is there with the curve*. His eon bats. The bahv bawls, and he himself has to steal home every night, tLLLE—Game's over. ‘ ■**»■» -