Hector claims that Harriet, like himself, is married to somebody else; a certain Garry Hearn being the man. But Harriet denies the allegation and defies the alligator. Hector lives with his wife at 375 Park avenue, New York. He seems to take it all as a joke, but his Harriet evidently does not. She alleges that he wooed and won her under the name of Palmer, and also that he ungallantly refuses to pay the rest of the rent so that she can get her needful belongings out of hock; and, to make matters worse, he will not see her any more. But she protests her undying love for him in spite of the way he has wounded her poor, tender little feelings, which ought to be easy for her, seeing the size of his saccharine bank-roll. Heads she wins, tails she loses. Harriet figures she stands to get a slice of it if he doesn’t make good about divorcing his wife and marrying her; or, in the other event, she will have the spending of most of it anyhow. So why shouldn’t modest little Harriet sue? And echo answers, why? * * * * * =The New Supper Menu= No more liquid glances, No more pretty speeches; No more stewed live lobsters, No more pickled peaches! ------------------------------------------------------------------------ =_Questions and Answers_= =Dear Captain Billy=—How will I head a story about a prominent Boston society girl marrying a Providence socialist?—=Cub Reporter.= Just say: “Plymouth Rock chicken marries Rhode Island Red.” * * * * * =Old Wheezy Bill=—My landlord has raised my rent because I have a case of whisky in my apartments. Now, I don’t like to move and I don’t like to pay rent and then again its against the law to move the whisky, so what the’ll shall I do?—=Oberst.= Your “case” has undoubtedly been disposed of by this time. * * * * * =Dear Bill=—To settle a dispute, please tell me what disease is caused from the microbe of a kiss?—=June Bugg.= Palpitation of the heart. * * * * * =Dear Bill=—The ocean side seems so different this year. Why does it seem to make me feel so blue?—=Flo Waters.= I do not know, Flo, unless it’s the wind blowing the froth over the bar that reminds you of olden days. * * * * * =Dear Captain Billy=—Why won’t they allow army aviators to take up women passengers in airplanes?—=May Wheat.= I am told that too many of the pilots went blind while looping the loop. * * * * * =Dear Editor=—Can you give me the technical name for snoring?—=Al McGluek.= Sheet music. * * * * *