THEY WEAR RIGHT!
A POLL-PARROT SHOES PM-USUO
£« by teal bey» ««"» ««·»* *·· *eu· L·
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It's been going on for 20 years—this pre
testing of Poll-Parrots by selected groups V
of boys and girls. Because of it your child y
gets shoes that protect and guard grow
ing feet. Such fit advantages as straight- ,
tread lasts, age-conforming arches. Such
wear advantages as extra reinforcements
in all vital parts. Insist on Poll-Parrots.
ROBERTS, JOHNSON & RAND U
Division of I η terna tional Shoe Company, St. Louis 3, Mo. ^
Style «190
Ctt PiMatraU
In My. Tm!
From baby's impor
tant first-steps through
those casual campus mocs
—be sure your youngster
has the foot protection of pre
tested Poil-Parrot Shoes.
—- I
STMDY LEATMOt ! EXTRA RENFORCEMENTS
ί—Tfi ; AT Ml WTAt. nain
For nearest Poll-Parrot dealer
see Classified Phone Directory
or write us.
roll J Parrot
/ke-Tfifo/Siiûeâ
Also S TA R ★ BRAND 1 SHOES . ... At Lowta Pkicîs!
16
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a
It was a great piece of luck for Tim H
F
to have lunch with a famous artist ... (i
A Short Short Story
IF Tim had known Floyd Bentham a little
better, he'd have known that Floyd never
helped anyone but himself.
But Tim was young, eager to make good,
and desperately in need of money. He had to
put his faith in someone; so he was quick to
believe Floyd's loud, too-easy promise.
• "Always glad to do what I can for a fellow
artist!" Floyd had boomed over the phone
this morning. "Bring along some of your stuff,
fella. We'll take a look at it, and see that you
meet the right people."
Now, in the warm, smoke-thick fog of Vin
celo's restaurant, Tim glanced down at his
black leather portfolio. The stuff was good,
and he knew it. If Floyd Bentham kept his
promise — Tim crossed his fingers — he and
Maizie would be out of the woods.
Tim rtf ike ———
Ο--- — β" ·~ — w
Bentham, and the things he could do for
Maizie. Maizie ... through the smoke haze
Tim could see her face as it had looked this
morning, in the gray light of dawn when she'd
brought his coffee in a thick blue cup. and put
it beside his drawing board.
"Turn out your light, Tim," she'd said
softly. "It's day again. You've worked clear
through another night."
He'd stood up, his eyes smarting, his back
aching with weariness. And on a sudden im
pulse, he'd caught her against him — tighter,
tighter. "Some day," he'd managed, "some
day, Baby, I'm going to make this up to you.
All of it!"
Through the palm-fringed window of Vin
celo's, he saw a cab pull up. He drew a hard,
deep breath, and caught up his portfolio.
Floyd had a portfolio, too. He burst into the
dim foyer, mopping his forehead with a large
blue handkerchief. "Just finished these sketch
es," he told Tim, slapping the black leather
case. "That's what held me up. Remind me to
show them to you, fella, before I have
to run."
"I know your work," Tim said. "Pop always
said you were one of the best commercial artists
in the field. He always used to talk about the
time he bought your first sketch, when he was
an art director on "Sentinel' magazine, and you
were just beginning — "
"Bv Kollv." Flovd exclaimed, seatin? him
self on the leather banquette, "I'd forgotten
all about that! That was a damned good
sketch, by the way. One of the best that maga
zine every bought, and I don't mind saying so
myself!"
Tim propped his portfolio against the table
and eased himself into the opposite chair. The
warm, good smells of spaghetti and sharp cheese
and Chianti wine twined in the smoky air and
filled Tim's nostrils.
At several nearby tables he noticed other
artists, with their sheafs of sketches and their
tape-tied black portfolios — chatting with art
directors, showing sketches. Vincelo's was a
famous gathering place for the great and the
near-great in the field of commercial art.
"This is good of you, Mr. Bentham," Tim
Tim had worked
on the portrait
all night. Now,
at last, it was
ready to show
managed, "to give me a start this way, and
offer to introduce me." He gave a short, hollow
laugh. "I really need it now, too. My wife's .
going to have a baby." |
"Well, congratulations!" Floyd sang out,
"Nothing like a family. Speaking of families,"
he confided, "don't forget to ask me to show ^
you this fireside thing I did. The lighting effect
damn near licked me. But wait 'til you get a
look at it!"
"Garçon!" Floyd commanded suddenly,
snapping his fingers aloft at their sad-faced
waiter. "Say, Tony," he said, as Tony shuffled
to the table, "the young man here, and I,
would like some of that really good stuff you've