Subject: Babe And George Zaharias

"Remember, honey," Zaharias said, "how many times we'd come from a tournament and I'd rub your legs?"

"Yup," she nodded, "we'd head right for the hotel and the bathtub."

She looked admiringly at her husband. "He's quite a guy, isn't he?" she said without fear of contradiction. "Look at his eyes real good. There's a lot of sincerity and sweetness in his eyes. I don't know what I would have done without him."

"Oh, honey," he protested, "what would I have done without you?"

SOUVENIRS IN THE GARAGE

"Say, George," she had an afterthought, "the other day in the garage I came across the caricatures we had drawn of us the first night we went out together. They were pretty good. We autographed them to each other. Remember?"

He remembered.

"Show her that picture of Mom and Pop," she told him.

Meanwhile Eddie brought her breakfast in on a tray and while the Babe ate her sandwich Zaharias showed the picture, an old-fashioned daguerreotype of her parents, a handsome couple; the father, black haired, strong jawed, mustached; the mother, blonde, pretty, gentle looking.

"Some people say I look like my mother," the sixth of Ole and Hannah Didrikson's seven children, born June 26, 1914, said. "Around the eyes." She waited for confirmation, and when it came she was pleased.