ntfsn
U mm1
till
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fflolgate's
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IFfojfeSt
Makes air smell
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One Spray of Colgate' new
Florient instant-action Air
Deodorant quickly kills un
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cooking, smoking, bathroom,
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Be sure to keep an extra
Florient handy in the kitchen.
NOW N 4-
fragrances:
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No Wick NoWait No Waste
RASH
PHYSICIANS PRESCRIBE
DIAPARENE
DIAPER RINSE and BABY POWDER
It's wonderful
- the way
Chewing-Gum
Laxative
acts chiefly to
REMOVE WASTE
MGOOD FOOD
Here's a secret millions have discovered
about feen-a-mint, the wonderfully
different chewing-gum laxative.
feen-a-mint Is different because you
chew It. It's different, too, because It
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feen-a-mint does not work In the
stomach, where food Is being digested.
That's why it does not take away a lot
of the good food you need for energy.
Doctors know that feen-a-mint works
chiefly In the lower bowel... removes
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So to feel like a million, chew de
licious feen-a-mint. 16 tablets, 35
also 6mall and economy sizes.
K Feen-a-mint
DIAPER
After the wm
Orange
I jr KB M Br. JttlilflilBl li w
.yZifr'. -:mii
Sherbet
by Seymour Krim
J ane campion opened her bag for a cigaret, worried that
Walter wouldn't show up on time, and caught sight
of her handsome, green-grained checkbook. Naturally
she smiled. The virtues of a personal checking account are
quite beautiful. She was still smiling to herself when
Walter cried "Hey!" his strong voice slicing through the
hum of frantic activity.
"I'm sorry, baby," he said, shouldering his way through
to her at the passenger gate. His broad-brimmed hat was
pushed back on his head and in his right hand hung the
inevitable briefcase. With his iron left forearm and strong
fingers, he grasped her shoulders.
"Don't smear, sweetheart."
Walter paused an inch from her mouth. "Complaints, yet."
After nineteen years of marriage, it was a remarkable
kiss. But so is my guy, Jane thought, dabbing with a tissue
as they eased into line and Walter showed the tickets to the
man at the gate. Their plane was sputtering and grumbling
in preliminary wakefulness.
"I thought you might miss it," she panted as they hurried
up the ramp. She clutched a small suitcase, her purse, and a
sheaf of magazines in a confused flurry. But Walter guided
her to their seats with a firm hand, disregarding the dark
haired stewardess who wanted to help.
He installed Jane by the window, opened the top button
of his shirt, removed his hat, and grunted. She reached up
and tucked a crisp, greying curl from off his forehead.
"Tell me, darling," she asked as they wriggled them
selves comfortable, "what held you up?"
"This Bloomer business." He tapped the briefcase. "I've
got it licked, though. Had to gab all afternoon with the
owners. Then luckily I checked my watch and said, 'Boys,
I'm off to camp.' While they tried to figure that out, I
scrammed!"
Jane slid her hand beneath Walter's arm and squeezed.
Since Walter's successes (and failures) were hers, she was
glad the Bloomer thing was ending.
Bloomer was a temperamental baseball pitcher who had
quit in the middle of the season, claiming the manager of
his team had insulted him. And since Walter's firm repre
sented this team as well as innumerable other sports or
ganizations, she knew I'affaire Bloomer had been a nuisance
to him these past weeks.
"Think we'll get chicken again?" he asked as their plane
lifted off the ground.
"Dreamer. Of course!"
Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and stringbeans were
the standard items at the Camp Seminole Award Night
dinners, as predictable as the orange sherbet which fol
lowed. Fathers all over the East, Jane mused, were won
dering at this very moment if a steak or lobster could force
its way onto the menu. But she knew Walter's question
and the tired look that had come over his rugged features
indicated something else which he wouldn't discuss.
This was the fifth consecutive August that they were
flying up to Seminole for Award Night, which not only
climaxed the Summer for the boys but brought the parents
into hand-shaking contact with Harold Carter, the director.
It was usually a noisy event, with Carter making a hard
sell for next season. But it wasn't tmVthat had made each
previous trip difficult for Walter.
"You're so quiet, darling," Jane said as they flew high
above the intricate landscape. "Tired?"
"Think I'll catch a snooze."
' The big legs came out and the broad back slumped into
a seat not designed for men like Walter. She put her hand
fondly on his knee. Although a respectable middle-aged
attorney, Walter still had the build that had taken him
through three years of varsity football. It was Walter, with
his love of sports, who had led his partner Mike Richter
into making their firm one of the top legal representatives
in the sports world.
But it was Walter's fate to be father to a son who pre
ferred Liberian stamps to football and collected pictures of
transatlantic liners instead of developing his fast ball
which Walter would have loved since left-handed Ralph
was a "natural-bom southpaw." Not that Walter hadn't
tried. Jane would never forget the sweatsuit which he had
bought the boy before Ralph's first Summer at Seminole,
and how the frail nine-year-old had dutifully accompanied
his father to the park on six straight Sunday mornings.
Together they ran around the reservoir, until on the sixth
Sunday Ralph fell down from exhaustion halfway around.
When they moved into a house, Walter tried again a
ping-pong table in the basement, badminton for the back
. lawn, a regulation basket for basketball in the garage. But
for his age, he played only a mediocre game.
32
Family Weekly. April 13, 195S