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About The Omaha guide. (Omaha, Neb.) 1927-19?? | View Entire Issue (Oct. 22, 1932)
at him out of cold, brown eyes, he knew. It was Half Pint! Suddenly hia mind went back to his early days of seven and eight years. He remembered how satis fied he felt after poking his tongue out at an enemy. He did so at his neighbor. But his neighbor's mind had gone back to the twelve-year stage. A dainty, tiny, gloved hand went up and the tiny thumb touch-; ed the end of the funny nose with the freckles on it and the tiny fin ger wriggled as if for exercise. J i] J J Just send name, address and j 3c stamp, to cover mailing costs, for Free Sample of 1 ill] Lucky Mo-Jo Incense. Mo-Jo Co., 5251 Cottage Grove Ave., Dept. 140, Chicago. jj IF YOU WANT MONEYl ^^^^pmrantee to help you get a new start In life. No I case beyond hope. Stop worrying! Write me today. Information FR£B! M. WILLIAMS, !HH Bergen Ave. Jersey City. N.J., Dept, F.__ Something, he thought, had to be done about this fresh girl. He was entering the bank when one of his admiresses caught up with him. She was Vernita, with the light brown complexion and brown hair. She was wearing a blue turbin and a blue dress. The dress was too long for morning wear. He wondered whether Half Pint would wear a long dress in the morning. "Hello, Pretty Boy,” she said smiling up at him. She saw that his eyes were black. “What’s the matter? You aren't angry because; I met you, are you?” “I,” said Prescott, “am not angry with you. But I shall be pretty! soon.” He then walked away. ritousands of Women Have Taken Gardul . on Their Mothers' Advice It Is an impressive fact that many women have said they learned of the value of Cardui from their mothers. What stronger evidence of her con fidence in a medicine could a mother have than that she advises her daugh ter to take it! Cardui is given the credit for re lieving so many cases of womanly suffering that it is widely and favor ably known. Druggists, everywhere, sell it. If you are weak, run-down, suffer ing monthly, take Cardui. 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The black and white square box in which this powder comes is known to thousands as a symbol of quality and value. ♦ •‘Pretty Boy, why didn’t you come to see me last night? You haven't got another girl, have you? Because if you have, I’ll-” Prescott stopped and looked down “What?” he demanded. “Oh, Pretty Boy, don’t you love me any more? Come over to my apartment tonight.” “I'm busy tonight” "You fool! Do you think-” He had walked away. "What about Tuesday?—Wednes day?” “I’ll be over Monday,” he said carelessly, touched his hat and walked into the hank. Tuesday, Wednesday and Thurs day he worked in his garden, dressed, went to work, and. went to see his girl-friends and thought about Half Pint. What was her name? How could he get revenge? Why wasn't she impressed by his —er—manly beauty? Where did she get her nerve from? Of course, he did not care one thing about her —if hating her did not count. Half Pint was one girl he really hated. What was her real name? His Aunt Louise told him their last name was Wilson. She also told him that they had a “lovely” parlor suite, but the dining room suite was “simply horrid.” She al so told him that the Wilsons were still paying for their "lovely” parlor suite and their “simply horrid” din ing room suite. wnac ne wanted co near uooui was that half-pint sized impi Friday, he was sitting in the bank counting the number of per fect legs that came into the bank. He was not bothered about the faces. Too many women were on his hands now. He had just count ed the fourth pair of perfect legs when he caught his breath sharply. He had seen the perfect, perfect pair of legs. The perfect, perfect pair of legs were held up by a tiny pair of green shoes. Since-the perfect, perfect pair of legs were coming toward his win dow, he did not bother to look at her face. Only'a pretty woman could have had such legs. She would be smiling up at him in a few minutes. A bank book was pushed under the window to him by a tiny red brown hand with tiny, pointed, green nails. Prese:tt looked at that hand sharply. There was something familiar about that hand. He had a feeling that he had felt—he looked up suddenly and into a pair of cold, brown eyes. “You!” he gasped. “Of course it’s me! Who else do you suppose I could be?” She pushed a five-dollar bill through the window and added: “Hurry up!” Silently he wrote in the book. He noticed that her name was Heph zibeth. He wondered how anyone could name her child a name like that. He didn’t know it, but she wondered the same thing. “Thank you,” she said coldly. Her lips curled scornfully as she added: “Pretty Boy.” tie watched the little green-clad figure with the hat perched on the side of her red head, as she walked out of the bank. Somehow he didn’t like the way she had called him, “Pretty Boy.” It sounded foolish and made him feel foolish. That girl always made him feel foolish. He turned to wait on another cus tomer. After the customer had gone, the telephone rang. “Is that you, Pretty Boy?” came a baby voice over the wire. "This Honey and-” “This,” said Prescott, “is Alwin Prescott,” and hung up the receiver, ceiver. This made him feel better. * ' * * * Prescott chuckled to himself all day, Monday. Vemita. with the brown hair and complexion was peeved at his inattention. “What’s the matter, Pretty Boy?” asked Yernita. "Nothing,” he answered. But there was a far away happy look in his eyes. "You’re not paying any attention to me,” raid she, snuggling up closer to him. He put his arm around her. He had gotten even with Half Pint. It was really wonderful! "Kiss me, Pretty Boy.” He kissed her. He had gone to Watson's for lunch with Laveme, with the blue eyes and blond hair. Who should walk up to him to serve him—but Half Pint? "You’re not thinking about me,” Vemita pouted. He had ordered several dishes, sent them back, ordered some more, complained and sent them back. He| had ordered milk. When she brought it, he declared he had or dered ginger ale. In short, he had given her hell. In the end, he had walked out without leaving her a tip. He had never had a better time in his life. “Pretty Boy!” He became conscious of Vernita. “What?” “Don't you love me?” "No.” He took her in his arms and kissed her. Once, twice, then he decided it was too hot to make love. Vernita had started using a per fume he hated and it was always stuffy in her apartment. She al ways wanted to make love when it was too hot. Vernita just made him sick and tired. This was his last visit there. “Let's go out riding," he said abruptly. “But, Pretty Boy, it’s eleven. Let's just stay here.” She put her arms around him and smiled up at him. “Come on. I’m going.” “Oh, all righk,” she pouted. The cool sweet breeze soon drove the pout from Vernita's mouth. It even made Prescott feel more civil toward her. After driving miles and miles he turned off in an apparently desert ed road. He snapped off his lights and began to tell Vernita how beau tiful she was. She laughed softly! and put her arms round his neck.. “Do you love me?” Prescott frowned. She would ask him that. He didn't love any ! woman. JJU yuu: | A familiar voice saved him. Both looked in the direction it came from. Tliis road was not deserted. “Are you a foci?” came the fami jliar voice. “Don't be like that, baby?” Alwin took Vernita's arms from round his neck. That voice was .very familiar. | “Some fools,” laughed Vernita. “Let me go! Do you want to get hurt?” “Say, what do you suppose I brought you here for?” Prescott straightened. “You damn fool. Let me go!” Prescott opened the car door. There was only one person who said "Damn!” like that. How dared she come out here alone in a car with a guy like that! The next instant he was out of the car and running toward the other car, with a flash light in his hands. “Hey,” growled the man, blink ing, "what the hell are you doing?” | “Half Pint,” said Prescott, “get out of that car!” “No,” said Half Pint unsteadily, "I can take care of myself.” “Mind your own business, beauti ful!” "If you don't get out of that car, I I'm going to take you out!” “Oh yeah? I brought this dame here and she's gonna stay here! See? Do you want me to break your pretty nose?” Prescott felt sorry for this poor man. Did he really think he could break his “gorgeous” nose? “Get out!” he said to Half Pint.1 “Just take me out!” “I warned you,” snarled the! man, “now I’m gong to break your pretty nose.” Vernita let out a loud squeal as the man got cut erf the car. Suddenly Prescott's flst shot out and landed on the unknown's chin, as Half Pint's hand had landed on his cheek before. The unknown sank to the ground. Prescott took Half Pint out of the car and deposited her between Vernita and himself. Vernita snif fed. “Miss Hephzibeth.” (he felt Half Pint wince and didn’t blame her) “Wilson—Miss Vernita Jones.” "How do?” said Vernita coldly. "Hello,” said Half Pint just as joldly. Then to Prescott, "I know low to take care of myself!” “Yes? You sure have a poor way if showing it.” This time he was ;he winner. “I wish you’d just mind your own jusinese!” “Listen, Hair Pint, I—” “Don't call me that! My name is Midge!” Vernita spoke up. “Oh, Pretty Boy—•” “Alwin,” said he. “But Pret—” “Alwin!” She shot Half Pint, or Midge a iroaen glance. "Miss Hepfazibeth—” “Midge.” corrected Midge. “Miss Heph—” “Midge!” “The next time you go out with seme guy. Half Pint—” “Midge!” “Half Pint!” “Midge! If you insist on calling me that. Til call you—you—” He thought she would say, "Pret ty Boy.” “Call you—Quart!” “What a name!” Vernita laughed. 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