Identifier: ladieshomejourna65janwyet (find matches)
Title: The Ladies' home journal
Year: [1] (1940s)
Subjects: Women's periodicals Janice Bluestein Longone Culinary Archive
Publisher: Philadelphia : (s.n.)
Contributing Library: Internet Archive
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

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Text Appearing Before Image:

 "My face got redder and redder!" 

Pronounced PEE-KWAT

 PEQUOT  SHEETS  so good-looking  so long-wearing 

Text Appearing After Image:
� Page 176

LADIES’ HOME JOURNAL

 "My face got redder and redder!" 

It was strictly from embarrassment. not politics, that Mrs. S. H. Denham. Joplin, Mo., turned red to the roots of her hair.

She’d been reading a letter from her sis- ter, she tells us, and as she turned the page, these words smacked her in the face:

 "Why, you dear little dumb  bunny, _you_ shouldn't have to  ask _me_ what brand of sheets  wear the best, stay the whit-  est, and feel the nicest! _You_  should remember, when Mom and  Pop had that little inn down  south...those stacks of  _Pequots_ in the linen room." 

No wonder Mrs. Denham’s face turned red! She /did/ recall those crisp, soft sheets. Sheets her mother’d been proud to use for the fanciest summer boarders. But, under- standably, she’d never worried about brands...until recently, when she noticed that some non-Pequot sheets seemed to wear out shockingly soon.

Now, having had her memory refreshed by her sister, Mrs. Denham writes us:

 "I promise you, cross my heart,  I'm replacing those drab,  fast-going sheets with  _Pequots._ And it'll be Pequots  _only_ for my home from now on!" 

We think it’s right noble of Mrs. Denham to tell her sad experience and glad discovery, to save others from disappointment.

If you want sheets that will serve you as well...get Pequots! Look for the double- tape selvages and quick-pick size tabs... two exclusive features of Pequot muslins, /America’s most popular sheets./

Pequot Mills, Salem, Mass.—/Also makers of Pequot Fine Combed Percales/

� (Continued from Page 174)

“Worse than that even. On account of his shifty eyes and his mean mouth ——”

“Like Mr. Shantz’s?”

“Meaner. On account of this, nobody liked him.”

“Not even his mother?” Becky asked, frowning.

‘“His mother ran away when he was a baby and has never been seen since.”

“She would have liked him a little bit, an inch or so, maybe.”

“Stop interrupting me or I won’t say an- other word. Now I've got to start all over again. Once upon a time there was a terrible man named Gilberto. He lived in Chicago and every night he crouched up and down the streets looking for his victims. His fa- vorite victims were little girls around the age of seven.”

“Oh, they weren’t!” Becky said. ‘“ You're just making that up!”

“Stop interrupting me. Well, one night Gilberto was crouching up and down the streets when who should he lay eyes on but the most beautiful young girl by the name of Dove Brown.”

“How old?” Becky asked suspiciously.

“Twenty-one, in fact it was her very birthday. Up to now Gilberto liked little girls of seven, but when he laid eyes on Dove Brown he changed. Anyway Dove Brown had locks like a raven and pearly teeth with not a single filling and large blue eyes with eyelashes an inch long.”

Becky wanted to know if Gilberto ate eyelashes and teeth and hair and toenails.

“Not any more,” Priscilla replied. “I told you he suddenly changed. As soon as he laid eyes on Dove Brown he was so smitten by her beauty that he walked right up to her and said . good evening. Good eve- ning, said Dove, even though she wasn’t al- lowed to speak to strange men. It’sa lovely evening, said Gilberto, would you care to go to the movies? I don’t mind if I do, said Dove, not caring to hurt his feelings.”

“Why didn’t she care to hurt his feelings?”’

“Because it was one of her mother’s rules, silly. So they went to the movies, and lo and behold Gilberto acted so nice that Dove fell in love with him, and they eloped together.”

“What’s elope?”’

�

 → How desperately difficult  it is to be honest with one-  self. It is much easier to be  honest with other people.  —EDWARD F. BENSON: quoted in    Treasury of Wit and Wisdom,      edited by Norman Lockridge    (Biltmore Publishing Company). 

�

“When you run away and get married with your old clothes on and no wedding gown and champagne, like Clara Barton did. So they eloped but they didn’t live happily ever after, just for three weeks. For three weeks they were as happy as kings until one night Gilberto said he felt hungry. Do you want a toasted cheese sandwich? said Dove. No, said Gilberto. Do you want a roasted chicken with plenty of stuffing? said Dove. No, said Gilberto. Well, said Dove, do you want some French-fried potatoes? No, said Gilberto. Well, my goodness, said Dove, what do you want? You, said Gilberto, and grabbed her by her throat with one hand and reached for the bread knife with his other hand.”

“Oh, */no!/*” Becky cried and put her fingers in her ears, but not very tight.

“Help, help, mercy, have mercy, Dove screamed in a voice as loud as father’s. But naturally Gilberto didn’t have any mercy be- cause he had gone back again to having a mean disposition. You must die, cried Gil- berto, I must kill you. Which he did, wiping the bloody knife off on her hair. Then he ate her.”

Becky frowned. “With a knife and fork?”

“He was too hungry to remember his manners so he just ate her with his fingers. Which was the end of Dove Brown, who should never have spoken to a strange man. As for Gilberto, he changed back again and to this day he still crouches up and down the streets looking for little girls around the age of seven.”

“I don’t believe it,” Becky said, with an uneasy glance over her shoulder. “The policemen would get after him.”

� - May, 1948

“They can’t catch him.”

“Oh, I just hate that story!” Becky said tearfully. “Specially about the little girl!”

Priscilla heard her mother’s step in hall. She said judiciously, “Of course, I /may/ have been mistaken. He /may/ prefer eleven- year-old girls like me.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes.”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?””

Priscilla crossed her heart and hoped die.

The change in Gilberto’s diet restored Becky’s tranquillity. When mother popped her head inside the door she was delighted to find her girls just as good as gold and as quiet as mice.

“And did Priscilla entertain you?” mother asked, picking up the hot-water bottle and handing Becky a clean pair of stockings.

“She told me a story,” Becky said. “It was a story about ——”

“It was a love story,” Priscilla said blandly. “About getting married and so forth.”

� Mother was very pleased to hear this. She went downstairs immediately and told father, who was still reading in his den. “Frederick, sometimes I think we have sweetest girls in the world.” Father looked up in astonishment. “You do?” “I wonder if I'm too stern with them now and then.” “I hardly think so.” “Bringing up a family is so hard,” mother said and sat down absent-mindedly father’s lap. “And it must be hard to be brought up, too, you know? I mean, being a child is hard.”

“You should know too,” father said, smiling.

“It’s not so bad for Becky, who is like me. I think it’s doubly hard for Pris- cilla, who is like you.”

“Why /doubly?/”’

“I mean, she has so many ambitions and hopes and plans, and hardly any of them ever work out.”

“What brought all this on?”’

Mother explained about Becky’s wet [obscured] and Priscilla’s responsibility. “She did /want/ to stay with Becky,” mother said. And naturally I thought they’d quarrel. But when I went in, there they were, getting along beautifully and looking like [obscured] angels. To keep Becky quiet Priscilla told her a story. A love story, can imagine?”

“I can imagine,” said father, who was [obscured] Priscilla.

The phone rang in the hall. Mother made a slight attempt to slide off father’s lap, but father held her back. ‘

“Let Edna answer it.”

“She’s so busy.”

“It’s probably for her anyway.”

“That’s the point,” mother replied. I never know what she’ll say, and I do want her to be nice to Delbert. She was quite [obscured] with him last night.”

“Edna,” father said, “is not at her best on the phone.”

It was true that Edna was moody about telephones. She believed that all telephone operators made a practice of listening in to conversations. In order to foil the operators and teach them to mind their own business, Edna confined her conversations to cry[obscured] monosyllables and long, meaningful pa[obscured]

Mother cocked her head toward the [obscured] and listened. Sure enough, Edna said “Yeah? Who's speaking? It is, eh?” The gruffness of Edna’s voice meant only one thing to mother, that Edna was on the with Delbert again.

“Oh, dear,” mother said sadly, for she hoped that she and Edna between them would be able to lead Delbert to the a[obscured] Though Edna had slipped from the path of virtue only once and at a very tender age, mother was anxious to get her married be[obscured]

(Continued on Page 178)

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