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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 14, 1925)
whipped him across the face. If it was a portent that young Marchesa de San Pilar did not know it. It was the spring of 1921 before Admah saw her again. In that inter val a sick world had murdered a doz en million of its bravest men; earth had changed her face and become as much something else as might the moon should she decide on a midsuni mer's night to turn over and show u: that other, mysterious protile which none but lunatics are supposed to see. And how had those sevpn year* changed Flora Pee, Marchesa de Sai. Pilar? She had had her eyebrow, plucked. She affected a i-ostnel ic which makes the skin very pale to contrast with the rouge on the lips. She wore costumes of parrot preen with remarkably brief skirts and the first pair of short toed sandals to be seen in that section of the South. Miss Sunshine Buckner iwlied her a i i'cofte and Jimmy Wilder, sipping Miss Sunshines sherry, pronounced It Cookoo. It was to the old Peake house that the beautiful Marchesa brought her luggage, nhlrh was light, and her story which was vague. If she bore a weight of, sorrow it was unapparent to her sister Margaret, who listened with amazement and later with amusement to her lively talk. He* chief treasure seemed to be a French bedspread, a triumph of lMtient needles plied before the Deluge. There were legendary animals grouped In splendid arabesques at the corners: at the center a crusader's crest presid ed over a rather wicked motto in <dd French, traced In purest white on a scroll of tarnished not.il thread. •■It'* beautiful." decided Margaret, then translating the central motto. "But how horrid!" (To Re Continued Tomorrow.! Vncle Sam la himself using seven tenths of the world * total production of oil. No wonder that his Joint* are well greased.—Bo* Angeles Time*._ _ . ww I A III THE NEBBS oh, pardon me. ccted tor ■TaBrS.r" y Barney Google and Spark Plug Exercise for Sparky? Yes, Barrels of It! Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Billy DeBeck BRINGING UP FATHER *Nfrr o. s'r'IZ'imc. paceof“lorsD.nMthCesEundayFbeLe Drawn for The Omaha Bee by McManu-. STT" 1 i " v. T " V.% . H 1 T Tli 11/ "_ — - - : t—rTT1. r 1 I r~. — i "it-.—rr- ■■■ ■■■■■■ ■ < ■ ■ —r H I I WELL'HO'W much i I % JERRY ON THE JOB r Itifflitil THE LITTLE HELPER. Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hoban tCoprn*l)t 1929) Second Honeymoons . Y ■ ’* * By Briggs I whem we wieBf fipjt I M^Rfilep YoU« HAlO I HUMS OOUJNJ TO YOOR S KMSe CAPA AMO Too SSPewT LRSS Time om ^nA it than you Po now! ) AMP YovJ SAID Tu/ouuO a' JffX | ^AUF A LOT OF 1 IMf IF You COULD HA /I . — ir Rotioirt) Tha r \AJA •' • li-Y'tf •' ABIE THE AGENT Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hershfield Modem Convenience*. I* Right. —T fpi v£> J-. ■iufij?.v,«. • \rk-.f-. • - ■»■-! Bw . 1 “THE GOLDEN BED” By W ALLACE IRWIN. Produced m ■ Paramount Picture by Ceclle B. De.Mille From a Screen Adaptation by Jeanie Macpherson. (Copyright. 1124) L_ (Continued from Yesterday.) When the big front door swung open an oldish colored man In a dress suit regarded Admah suspiciously with eyes that were the shade of weak tea. "Is Miss Peake home?” asked the caller. “No, suh. She jes’ went out ’bout two minutes ago." "Miss Flo Lee Peake, I mean." ex plained Admah, realizing his mistake. “Step In, suh," replied the colored man, "and I'll see.” Proceeding warily, like a keeper, he -inducted Admah into an overpower nig room, big as a church and impres sive with polished wood and stiff upholstery. "Whut name, please?” asked his -tilde, and when Admah answered 'Holtz," monosyllabically, the servant repeated his promise that he would see and sunk into the depths of the hovse. He was gone a lung time, per mitting Admail, his first interior view of the local palace. The dress-suited colored man re turned with the Information that Miss Flo Lee would be in presently. And again there was abundant opportunity for Admah Holtz, his fashionable fig ure propped without comfort against the carven back of a Peake chair, to note the details of Peake splendor. Finally he grew restless and looked at his watch. A quarter past four. . . . There couldn’t be any mistake about the time. He had heard her distinctly over the phone. From somewhere In the rear of the house voices floated toward him, indistinct, tantalizing. There were hursts of laughter, male and female, then pauses, then a light soprano tinkle. Her voice. He began to wonder if there was some mistake, if the col ored man had failed to tell her he was there. Admah knew how it was with colored help. That man Sam who worked round the store. ... "Oh, how do you do, Mr. Holtz. An unexpected and completely re vised Flo Lee stood in the doorway, a slight blond gentleman at her el bow. In that flash Admah had time to note with indignation that her escort carried a cane. As for Flo Lee, she was wearing a hat and pull ing on her gloves with the air of a lady about to go somewhere. Admah was a long time rising from his chair, lint when he accomplished the feat he murmured something unintelligible to r-- ' New York -Day by Day -J Ity O. O. M'INTYRE. Atlanta, Jan. 13— Atlanta with all of Its metropolitan swank offers a backwoods touch here and there that, is quite refreshing. On one of the leading streets today I saw an old mule driven by a venerable jlarkey whose hair was frizzed white. His ancient carry-all didn’t look as though it would last until he reached home. Yet there he was with a song on his lips and a smile of oceanic expansions. I have always heard of the south's negro problem. It seems to be one of those updying myths. The negro here appears happier than those In the north. One of At lanta's Imposing homes, by the way, is a monument to a kink cure—a patented remedy supposed to straighten the haid. All the hotels are manned by negro servants. I spent a pleasant hour today with a boyhood friend. Joljn A. Walker We once fought It out behind an old barn and the beautiful trouncing he gave me has primed me with respect for him ever since. We reveled In talk of departed youth. How time flits! It seems yesterday we ran barefoot through our town, raiding watermelon patches and div ing a la naturel off the wharf. And here he was with a 12-year-old son. Last night I was the guest of honor at a dinner given at the Capi tal City club by Col. Daniel W. Rountree, a lawyer of distinction and a gentleman par excellence. There were about 33 guests—as fine a body of men as I have seen anywhere. I was told by my host t would be called upon to speak and my knees became gelatinous. Public speaking j« as terrifying to me ns though I had suddenly come upon a man-eating Hon up a dark street. I have all the physical symptoms of acute ter ror. I stumbled to my feet, mumbled something unintelligible and eat down with the confusion of a coun try gawk. I shall carry away a memory of a call I made upon a delightful southern lady who is some TO years young. Her colonial home tope a rolling greensward on the fringe of the city. She was shawled and cap ped and had the charm of a dear cut cameo. Two hug# dogs drowsed in front of the open hearth. A clock ticked pleasantly In the hall. The perfume of roses floated through an open window. She played a haunt ing melody on the piano' and then sang with a voice as clear as a bell. And we strolled down a rambling walk to her garden. What a triumph to achieve what we call age so pleas n ntly! This charm of the south clicks be cause It is so naive. The starchy stiff formality of many of our large cities is replaced by simple gracee— the afternoon call, the solicitation for one's neighbor's welfare and the like. I was disappointed not to meet Flank L. Stanton, the southland's most prolific sweet singer. Few newspapermen year In and year out have written such beautiful, graceful sentiment. His la the gift of sweet ness. Who has given off such po etical fragrance ns he In his "Mighty Luk a Rose?" The young folks hero have their m,-n system of (lancing. There seems to ho a plethora of men and so they giotip In the middle of the dance floor and exercise the right to "cut In"—take another’s fair partner. And lc Is lo lie noticed that some leave the arms of their partners with a faint sigh of regret. Tonight I entrained for New Or leans—a city I have long wanted to ■ec. Those who have traveled say It Is one of the most Interesting cl!lee In the world. Mr. and Mrs. Clark Howell, Jr., Mr. and Mis. Rlx Staf foul. H. Y. Topper and Francis W Clarke gave our departure God •peed. C oil) i is lit, HR.) 1 i the effect that he was sorry he'd been late. "Oh,” she said In a voice that was so sweet and yet so patronizing that he could have slain her on the spot. "So you've brought my vanity case, Mr. Holtz. Awfully good of you." "Yes. I did bring it," he admitted, grouping into his new pocket and hoping for the instant that he had left It behind. But when he had put it in her hand he was regarded by the smile whlc hshe turned upon the blond gentleman with the cane. "Bunny, I dropped that lovely van ity case and this man—Mr. Holtz— found it and was so awfully good as to bring It back. Have you met the Marquis de San Pilar, Mr. Holtz?" And because the little blond fellow held out his hand Admah took it and gave it a shake before it w>as jerked away. Then they stood there, the three of them, apparently waiting foi something. "You were just in time, Mr. Holtz.'' she began, and he was encouraged for the instant it took her to draw on another glove. "We w-et-e just going out. and I did so want to have m> vanity case." Another pause. Admah’s inner sell was clamoring. "How about tea?" But he stood mute. At last, having put on her gloves to her satisfaction. Flora Lee Peake took a suggestive step toward the door. "We're a little late, If you'll for give us." she smiled. "Oh, that's all right." he declared, audacity returning with a rush. "I'm going downtown, too, so I'll just trapse along." So down the marble steps of the bayed verandah they passed together, the three of them. Miss Peake and the Marquis de San Pilar, it some how happened, walked a few feet ahead. But a stubborn mood was on Candy Holtz as he sauntered behind them as far as the horse-block against which a handsome automobile was waiting, its chauffeur attendant by the open door. Flora Lee Peake had stepped In and motioned the Marquis to a se.it beside her before again she remem bered her Invited guest. “Well, goodby, Mr. Holtz," she called out pleasantly. "And many thanks.” Thp Marquis' hat came off. and so did Admah's. It was as pretty a sight as you would wish to see on an autumn day. "Not at all. ma’am," said Admah, and watched the big car slide away as smooth as oil. ltis Inner self said, "Well’ I'll be durned!" but the outer Admah. proudly conscious of Inness Street's battery of hidden eyes, car ried it oft with a flourish. If. behind the rows of closed shutters, there was anyone to watch, they might have beheld a young man in a brand new suit pausing arrogantly to place a cigaret between his lips, to light it with fastidious care and puff luxuri ously ere he took his languid way toward Prince’s Avenue. A puff for the world of fashion, said Admah's every gesture. And a flg for its cus toms. Admah Holtz, proclaimed the pantomimlst. had called on Miss Flora Lee Peake, in the afternoon, at tea time. At her side—practically—lie had progressed down the lawn, seen her to her car. exchanged salutes w ith her Spigotty Count. Good. But in that defiance which proclaimed an outraged pride and a bruised hope, one sharp regret kept digging him like a misplaced pin. He wished to God he'd let Monty Fern back coax him into buying a cane One afternoon in early November it was his ill fate to sep her once more In a picture nicely set for his un doing. Outside St. Mary Cathedral he w-aa standing in the crowd, no less hum bly than on the morning when a col ored mammy had carried her on a pillow to her christening at All Souls Under a canopy a red carpet ran all the way from the curb to the Gothic door, and a special policeman was hard put to keep the crowd—mostly colored—from pressing in and spoil ing the scene. Then the cry, "Hyah she come. Bless Pat. she done got on the crown an' scepter:" Out of the door she comes, a beauty leomparable; walking in a cloud of silvery lace she advances at her hus band's side, and to the eyes of her odd lover she Is celestial, a being who moves in its own luminous vapor. The bridesmaids come flocking out, rose ate birds of identical plumage: Mur garet Peake Is carrying the bride's bouquet. . . . Admah Holtz remem bered It forever and forever; the bad angel of his destiny, all swaddled In pure light. Her little feet, so small he rould have held them both in one hand, barely flieked the crimson car pet with their snowy satin toes. As she passed toward the bridal car she came so close that he might have touched her; indeed, a corner of her veil, puffing in the wind, flew out and