Evening star., 1928-12-02

inquiry was streaked with surprise.
sSure, I've few meals left, and here
goes a couple of 'em-"
So he stood at the window, penciled
a blank and read it to the lad
God bless us all this Thanksgiving
day. and many returns. Am we'll and
Going fine"
He certainly was we'll, measuring by
appearance and manner. but the Shab-
bineSs of him on so lovely day would
haze been ridiculous in these prosper
Gus times, except that it was pathetic.
And the listening man clapped him
on the shoulder.
"All right, old man. if you don't mind
telling your mother whopper"
And do you think I'd be brute
enough to let her know I'm hunting a
job at Thanksgiving? No, sir What
want is for her to enjoy her turkey and
praise Sues dressing and cranberry
sauce Gosh, I'd like to be in on that
dinner. If she was to know that the
boss had failed and thrown the gang on
the street. she would grieve herself i'll
and ruin Sues flXingS-no Sir-ree."
And lone, lorn being, who wasn't
Mrs. Gummidge because she was an
oldy old maid, who had been listening
in, said to herself-having no one
handy to say it to:
II choose you for my son. lie and all"
Which, incidentally, showed she was
not of the noble stuff that mothers are
made of, since we are told that Truth
should be proclaimed, no matter how
hearts break or innocent happiness is
shattered beyond repair. And anyway
the young man of her adoption walked
out of the incident without noticing her
in the slightest But she didn't mind
for what says Oscar Wilde?
when admiration is Showered on
woman-that is triumph.
when she has to fight for mans at
tention-that is Agony.
When she neither gets admiration
nor wants it-that is Content
And the oldy collector of sons was a
contented woman.
pUFFON informs us-and you know
- how drastic dear old Button can
be. without trying-Buffon informs us
that no human being will ever be able
to understand a cat
BY way of contradiction, there is
woman who knows better. She learned
about cats from Mr.. -, all black
with yellow eyes-and later called
Ma'am for short.
The woman represents trade agency
that calls for small room on the first
floor of little old house on business
street that the owner, who inherited it
frcn his grandparents, is keeping for
investment, which means that he won't
put in repair The little room itself
might stand for an American edition
of Boffin's Bower-aS so many rooms do
that are lived in by lone women-for
the reason that it has to be home as
well as business place, and most of us
own beloved junk that nobody wants
to buy and that we wouldn't sell be-
cause of precious memories. There are
old paintings, an odd chair or two, and
about buShel of knicknackS to serve
as background for the business fur
nishings; and there is latticed-off
back room that used to oe kitchen
in great-grandma's time, and behind
that q little yard that is still yellow with
chrySanthemums turned brown around
the edges, and the tall dead stalk of
sunflower that the woman calls the
ghost of Summer-She is that sort of
woman And, also, there is a stray cat
so black and so boSsy of eyes that on
first acquaintance when he prowled in
and made himself at home she nolned
him Mr.. But she made q mistake
most of us do-and she told another
woman about it-like this:
II was working at my ledger the other
day when I happened to glance down
and there was Mr.. looking up at me
with something alive in his mouth.
And in the eyes of that cat was the