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MUTT AND JEFF
RABIES IS A FATAL
WHAT'S AND THE DOS THAT
INFECTIOUS DISEASE
RABIES,
JUST BIT THIS MAN
MUTT!
HAD RABIES!
GOSH! WHATLL WE DO,
WE'LL HAVE
TO SHOOT
HIM!
MUTTÓ
THE CHINA MAIL, JANUARY 26, 1989.
By BUD FISHER
BANG!
You LITTLE FOOL!
NOT THE MAN,THE
DÜGÜ
ARF!
ARF!
ARF!
I STILL THINK I
WAS RIGHT!
If You Keep on Waiting
FOR YOUR SHIP
TO COME IN...
7AP83
is there any reason to believe you won't still be waiting 10, 20 or 30 years hence-unless you start a sure plan NOW to guarantee future INCOME?
THE
MANUFACTURERS LIFE
INSURANCE COMPANY
HEAD OFFICE
CANTON: 20, British Concession, Shameen. Tel. 15373, V. E. Ferrier, Special Representativo.
SWATOW General Agenta: Measte. Care Ramsoy
& Bon, Ltd.
Avecial Representative: C. H. W. Thomson. MAÇÃO: F. J. Noromba, Agent.
TORONTO, CANADA
MAIL THIS COUPON NOW THE MANUFACTURERS LIFE
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THE DAILY SHORT STORY
A POOR MECHANIC
Craig was astonished to discover how little he knew about machinery. He had been selling Seaspray Cruisers for ten years, had driven them, demon- strated them and now, with a quick sale in the offing after a long period of no sales at all, he couldn't even start the thing, Worse, a girl, and a very pretty girl at that, was standing by, laughing at his efforts.
He couldn't tell her how he felt about young ladies who heartlessly robbed young men of their dignity by laughing. He wouldn't sell the Sea- spray if he did, for this girl was Miss Rhoda Dean, private secretary to ec centric Herman Whitlock, the sardine king. Old Man Whitlock had come to Florida for the winter, and he hadn't been there a week before he decided to buy a Seaspray cruiser.
He had wired the Seaspray people in New York and the Seaspray people had wired Craig. -They said they were sending down a forty-foot crui- ser and a mechanic. The cruiser ar- rived, but not the mechanic. The me- chanic it seemed, had gone on a bender and disembarked at Savannah by mis- take. Craig was desperate. He knew the sardine king was eccentric and he was afraid that if he delayed delivery too long the old boy might get sore and cancel the order. So Craig,, who thought he knew all there was to know
2
verse lady Nature was to give beautiful girl like that brains enough to be a private secretary.
Craig dispatched a long telegram to the New York office, stating exactly what he had done and asking what he hadn't done and requesting an im- mediate reply.
A
to- He went to bed satisfied that morrow would be, a brighter day. By 9:30 the wire on which he was de- pending so. much hadn't come. At ten o'clock Miss Rhoda Dean wheeled her yellow roadster into the dockyard. Craig went to meet her, smiling pleasantly, inwardly cursing the New York office. He'd have to stall. Some- how he'd have to keep her there until the telegram- arrived.
"Miss Dean, I've decided that first I'm going to show you all of the ad- vantages of the Seaspray's super- structure, her cabins and lounges, her radio room, her"
"Then you haven't received a reply to your telegram?”
Craig opened the roadster's door. "Please come aboard. I promise you there will be no delay such as yester- day."
4
Once aboard the ship, Craig felt easier. He had an impulse to cast off the lines and drift out to sea, thereby preventing Miss Dean from escaping. She looked lovelier than ever
By Richard Hill Wilkinson
about Seasprays, got her in readiness and then drove up to the Whitlock home and invited Whitlock down for a demonstration. Instead of coming himself, the sardine magnate dis- patched
his secretary, who had fan efficient manner, but was lovely just the same.
And now now with everything in readiness, the damned moter wouldn't start Craig-fussed and fumed and got his hands ali black and his face grimy and tiled to grin and apoiogize to Miss Rhoda Dean at the same time. She sat Miss Dean was patibut... around in the shade of the aft deck and smoked cigarettes, and every time Craig showed his face above the hat chway, she smiled. Presently she went below with him and watched his ef- forts. Whenever he looked at her she smiled, until Craig decided she wasn't smiling but laughing.
"What gets me," he finally blurted, "is why a decrepit old buck like Whit- lock wants to own one of these things anyway."
Instantly he realized his mistake. Miss Dean stopped smiling. She drow herself up. "If," she declared cooly, "you would prefer, I am sure people and
Marine people and
"Good lord no!” cried Craig_franti cally. "Don't do that! I didn't mean any offence. I was merely well, passing the time of day. Look," he rushed on, "let me have a day. I'm sure there's some little thing I've overlooked. Damn that mechanic. I mean, I'll wire the New York office at onice. Meet me here to-morrow at, ten: o'clock."
Miss Dean stared at him gravoly, "Very well," she said. She walked away, and.. Craig · looked· after her thoughtfully. He was probably crazy, but he thought he had detected twinkle in her oyo. She was such a lovely thing. Probably could dance divinelyi And he was so lonesome
· down-hers-- Ho hum! What a “per»
·
this
with morning in a white sport suit red collar and cuffs and a smart hat to match.
"Miss Dean, will you pardon me if I mention that you look very charming. Now, please, I'm noly trying to be polite. I don't know a soul in Miami, and it just occurred to me if you weren't too busy"
"I see. Then you can't give me a either?" demonstration this morning Miss Dean bit her lip. "In that case—”
"Wait!", yelled Craig suddenly. "Here it comes!" A telegraph boy was making his way along the dock. Craig ran down the gangplank and literally snatched the envelope from the astonished boy. **Thank God," he breathed. “All, is ́ saved.”
He returned to the Seaspray's deck, ripping open the envelope. He raad the message through twice and then solemnly handed it to Miss Dean. She glanced through it and handed it back, looking equally as solemn, They stared at each other a moment, then Craig burst out laughing.. Miss' Rhoda ̈ Dean held on a moment longer, then joined him. They laughed loud and long and almost affectionately. Two people, Craig decided, who could laugh together like that couldn't be enemies for long. He knew his lonesome days in Miamf were at an end.
He read the telegram through once more, fondly: "Suggest you pour in about fifteen gallons of gas before at- tempting to start_motor_again.”
(Copyright, 1988, By The Associated Newspapers),
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