The San Francisco call., 1904-11-20
Luck Tales 0ndDoangs OF
By Cherries Dryden

sweated all week and enjoyed a bully,
bang-up time on Saturday night at
trifing expense. He got tanked, did
all the talking and pulled off lot OF
goreless mind fights. And during the
spree and when it wound up Mommer
knew where he was, just what he had
been doing and she had the weekly
wage. The lady Of the house knew
her business.
This system made a deep dent in my
tender intellect, and resolved II des-
tiny so shaped my future to adopt it
and become an ideal toiler. But so far
there is nothing doing. don't smoke,
and the man in the white jacket turns
the spigot for me.
One Saturday night following snow
fall of three feet, and in the height OF
a blizzard Of exceeding ferceness, our
gentle landlady sprung a charley horse.
Rheumatism put her out Of the domes-
tic game for that evening. Pepper
Thomas said he would take a chance
with the Storekeepers, so with a list OF
verbal instructions covering one hour
he was sent off TO do the marketing.
With his side whiskers neatly curried
and the light Of noble resolve shining in
his eyes my boss departed, carrying
two baskets and one $40 bill. 1t was
long after midnight when the shopper
returned, minus the baskets, but bear
ing load that was q peacherino. The
success Of his expedition to busy marts
Nof trade awoke me and the rest Of the
employees and aroused startled interest
in the neighbors.
Every item but one Mr.. Thomas had
purchased was concealed under his belt.
yet we knew the exact nature OF his
contents. His face was adorned with
beatific smile and two unlighted cigars,
with red and old gold corsets on them.
Mr.. Thomas never used cigars except
on special occasions, at which time he
became. a real sport. Removing one of
the cigars, my boarding boss shifted
the other hard a-port and started to
warble plaintive ditty about bloom
ing sparrow that crawled UP bloom
ing spout.
The lady Of the house grabbed the
shopper and shook him.
"Is this the way l brought you up"
she demanded. Trained you by the
kitchen fire, with your keg and your
pipe. Where's the money. the groceries
and the baskets?''
There came a blooming rainstorm
and washed the blooming sparrow out,
sang Mr.. Thomas, with faraway look
in his eye.
Husband, what did you do with the
baskets?" implored the exasperated
lady.
Smashed 'em in fight, said MI
Thomas, emerging from the realms Of
melody. Eight scab boilermakers
tackled me- and I licked 'em all. And
when the blooming sun came out and
dried the blooming rain, the bloody,
blooming sparrow
With desperate fear at her heart,
Mrs. Thomas showed her man into
corner and searched him. He yielded
nine cigars-five of them broken and
the rest bent-and one half-pound can
of salmon, with a picture Of the fish'S
face on the can, like that of the man
who makes the talcum powder. In a
dim way Mr.. Thomas had thought
about US while shopping, and the sal
mon was to tide household Of twelve
over a frozen Sunday in the wtlds OF
Omaha, He was a good provider.
= 1t was much too much. Mrs. Thomas
gave vent to- a cry of rage and despair
and threw the can at her husbands
head. Her opening shot was wide and
high. The can crashed into pictorial
family tree on the wall and Jared
three generations from the branches.
This was doing pretty well, as the
slaughtered relatives belonged to his
side of the house A return shot by
MIR Thomas, whose aim was not
steady, broke the tail off a plaster OF
paris pug dog viewing the carnage
from the mantel. Whoever got the can
first had the next throw. Five times
the deadly canned fish hurtled through
the windows, but as the outside shut
ters were closed the combatants got