Radio and television mirror (Nov 1939-Apr 1940)

Breach of Promise! (Continued from page 21) Dear Diary: What a difference Midol has made in my life! Not so long ago I was only a "possibility" on party lists; now I'm the "girl who never says no"! What fun — not worrying about regular pain, never breaking dates, really having three gloriously active new days in every month! How I do it is a secret among us, Diary — you, Midol and me! IF YOU haven't tried Midol to relieve functional pain of menstruation — to release you for active living during the several dreaded days of your month — you may be passing-up comfort which more than a million enlightened women enjoy. It is common medical knowledge that much of this pain not only is needless, but can be relieved. And Midol proves it. For unless there is some organic disorder calling for the attention of a physician or surgeon, Midol usually brings welcome relief. It is made for this special purpose — to ease the unnecessary functional pain of the natural menstrual process, and to lessen discomfort. Give Midol the chance to redeem your lost days for carefree living. If your experience is average, a few Midol tablets should see you comfortably through even your worst day. All drugstores have Midol in trim aluminum cases which tuck easily into purse or pocket. MIDOL ^e&&t>eA "limctiervieJi ^ *Te/ilot/ic Ofon APPROVED BY GOOD HOUSEKEEPING BUREAU Midol is a special formula recently developed for its special purpose. Midol , .,,,1.1111 no opiates anil no amidopyrine. Tin: new Midol formula is plainly printed in lull on the label of every package and is approved by Good HousekeepingBurean. GENKItAL VHVC. COMPANY, NKW YORK, N. Y. 60 on Madam Queen's arm. And he spoke in a voice that resembled a bullfrog's. "Honey, I don't see how we goin' to git married tomorrow." Madam Queen's big brown eyes suddenly looked like saucers with chocolate-drops in the middle of them. She stepped backwards. Her scarlet dress rustled ominously. "Whut — whut yo' mean?" Andy tried to keep the quaver out of his voice. "Well, sweetheart, I — ah — Iah — Mama done tol' me nevah to git married on a odd yeah." Madam Queen stepped backwards again. She opened her mouth. But no sound came forth. Andy gauged his distance from the door, and stumbled desperately on. "To tell yo' de truth, honey, dat's all dere is to it. I jest can't git married tomorrow. But — but I sure wishes you a mighty happy New Year, an' . . ." They say that Madam Queen's shriek was heard ten blocks north and south of the Kingfish's fiat. It was a shriek that froze the gay group at the party into so many statues. It was a shriek that started a lot of things happening. It brought Madam Queen's sister to her side, sent Brother Crawford skittering behind an overstuffed chair, 'spilled a full glass of punch out of Amos' hand and over Ruby's dress, and shot Andy out of the room, down the stairs and into the street as if he'd been fired out of a gun. Even as he ran Madam Queen's second shriek burst from the front windows of the flat and pursued Andy down the street, into the dark hallway of his rooming house. He rushed upstairs to his little room and sat down limply on the iron bed. "Oh — oh. Now I done it. Now I done it." Andy buried his face in his hands. His whole body began to tremble at the thought of Madam Queen's vengeance. IT was one o'clock when Amos knocked at Andy's door. Andy made a move to dive under the bed, thought better of it, and pulled at the various articles of furniture he had piled against the entrance until Amos could squeeze in. For several minutes Amos stared silently at his stricken friend. Then he said: "Andy, of all de dumb tricks dat I ever saw anybody in my life do, you just done it. 'Stead of Happy New Year you hit Madam Queen wid a pile driver. What's a matteh wid you, Andy?" Andy looked up with glazed eyes. "I was jes' wrong. Ev'body blowin' horns, bells ringin', she was laughin'. I done thought she could take it better den — on de stroke o' midnight — but I was wrong." "Wrong!" Amos burst out. "You couldn't a been no wronger. You run away, an' den Madam Queen she screamed an hollered an' den she fainted. Den she had a catnip fit, an' jes' fainted right away again. We put acrobatic spirits of ammonia under her nose — dat didn' he'p, so we get a doctor. An' den Brother Crawford an' his wife carried her home." Andy shuddered and buried his face in his hands again. "Whut could I a done, Amos?" Amos stiffened. "Lissen, Andy, dere is some things you kin do an' some things you can't do, and dat's one of de things you can't, is tell a gal you goin' to marry her and den don't marry her." For two days Andy refused to leave his room. Amos became a despatch runner from the outside world. None of the despatches was reassuring, either. Madam Queen was sick in bed with a high fever and "doublin' up o' de heart beats." Everybody else in Harlem was furious at Andy, and even Amos' sympathy was gradually wearing thin. On the third day he pulled his dejected friend off the bed and forced him to go downtown to the Fresh Air Taxi Company's office. Andy entered cautiously and picked up his mail. Then, leaning back leisurely in his office chair, he tried to regain some of his lost complacency. The attempt was a hollow failure. Every letter he read shattered it all the more. A Mr. Gaines wanted $37.50 for a month's rent on the apartment Madame Queen had selected; a refrigerator company demanded a payment of $15 for the machine Madam Queen had purchased on approval. And there was a telegram that made Andy groan with dismay. It was from Sadie Blake, whom Andy had also been courting, but not so strenuously as Madam Queen. "Have just heard the good news," it read. "Always knew you loved me. Am so happy I could cry." Amos was almost tearful when he read it. "Yo' sure buys trouble in carload lots, Andy," he said. "I hopes to goodness you got sense enough to keep outa Sadie Blake's way until dis blows oveh." But Andy was already goggling at another letter. Amos looked over his shoulder. "From Smith & Smith," he said. "Who's dey?" "Dey's lawyers," Andy said gloomily. "Listen to dis. 'Dear Sir: A matter o' great i — im-portance has just been placed in ouah hands. Please git in touch wid us as quickly as possible or have yo' lawyer do so. See us no lateh dan January tenth. Signed, M. Smith o' Smith & Smith.' . . . Amos," he said fatefully, dat's about Madam Queen." "Awa — awa!" was all Amos could think of to say. (~^)N a certain sunny morning several ^■s days later, after Andy had received no less than three demands for his presence from Smith & Smith, Amos succeeded in hauling his reluctant friend up a flight of rickety stairs to the office of M. Smith. Andy would have preferred a den of lions. He found himself tepidly shaking hands with a smooth, rotund little man with a huge carnation in his buttonhole, who made the mistake of smiling coldly at Andy. Andy immediately took heart and smiled back. "Lawyeh Smith," he said importantly, "I think I goin' to send Madam Queen some flowers — Ouch!" Amos had kicked him briskly in the left shin. A slight frown flickered across Mr. Smith's cherubic countenance. "I don't think flowers from you would RADIO AND TELEVISION MIRROR