He Had His Way. By Lovie Mary Brandt. Four years have passed since John and I were wed. Now Junior's here besides wee baby Ted. Our flat is too small and porch we have none; A yard we should have, and plenty of sun. Wherefore John the real estate ads did scan. He went, to the phone and called up a man. Into the flivver John, Junior and T, We hustled and to the suburbs did fly. The name of the avenue we soon could see On a large sign nailed to an old oak tree. John turned too sudden, I near fell out. I chided him and, my, how he did pout! The real estate man was a seedy chap- Wrinkled, short and stout, he looked like a Jap. There were many new houses there for sale. I chose the stucco, John's face grew pale. He sourly said, "A stucco's not my choice- Far too expensive," said he in loud voice. My face flushed deep crimson as I re­plied: "There's a bungalow on the other side." "I like trees," said John, "and plenty of shade." "Children need sunshine," was the plea I made. That little house suited me to a T; The rooms being small meant less work for me. John acted bored as I tried to explain; I soon realized I was talking in vain. The real estate man wanted us to buy, But back to the flat went John, Junior and I. Nearly always John and I will agree, But house-hunting's a bore to John, you see. The children remain in the flat to play While John Rolfs in the sun-he had his way!