The Neighborhood Playhouse has been open only a few weeks. Already it is in full swing. On the nights when the regular players do not appear the programme consists of motion pictures and music. There is a charming informality and ease about these entertainments; there is also genuine art, and a whole-hearted appreciation on the part of the neighborhood's people.
(New York Evening Post)
THE SINGULAR STORY OF THE MOSQUITO MAN
BY HELEN BULLITT LOWRY
"Now you just hold up a minute"—the bungalow-owner waved an indignant hand at the man in the little car chug-chugging over the bumpy road. "Now I just want to tell you," he protested, "that a mosquito got into my room last night and bit me, and I want you to know that this has happened three times this week. I want it to stop."
The man in the car had jumped out, and was turning an animated, and aggressive, but not at all provoked, face on the complainer.
"Are you certain your drains are not stopped up?" he asked.
"Oh, those drains are all right. It's that damp hollow over in Miss K's woods that's making the trouble."
"I'll go there immediately," said the aggressive one. "She promised me she would fill that place this week."