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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 2, 1923)
at the very bottom he found It. the old tin box, a queer little casket to hold dead hope and abandoned ambition. He opened it and finger ed the tubes of color, rejecting this one, choosing that. At last he had three and banged the tin box shut. The mere touch of the paints gave him a thrill. He squeezed paint Into the gaso lene. first from one tube, then an other. He stirred, evenly, patient ly. The colorless fluid became red, then changed to fiery orange. He added Vermillion. Now it was flame, hue of sunsets, of great falling coals from smoldering logs, or the wild spurts of hot color that one seen when the flare of converters leaps into the blaekness of night. "Glory," said Martha; "111 look like a hula girl!" Lowden did not reply. Specula tlvely he watched his brew, squeez ing, stirring, trying the tint on a dust doth, salvaged from the pan try. At last he spoke, triumphant ly, authoritatively. "Give me th edress." He dipped it in, swirled it round mid round, lifted it and looked at it critically, put It back in the bowl, while Martha gazed fascinated at the limp, wet, brilliant silken gar ment: "That color's glorious!" sbe said at last. He gently squeezed ana pauea me dress. "We must hang it up some where now. outdoors preferably. I think it’s going to be all right. It'll smell to heaven—you’ll have to put it where it can be warm all day to morrow or it'll whiff up the whole dance. And it’ll need pressing." "Give me the bowl of gore and the murderer's toga," said Martha. "Talk about crime! Alec, Alec, you impetuous, hot-headed youth—” "Cut it out,” said Alec I»wden. hut he felt a cheerful warmth at 1 he words. "Run along, destroy the evidence, and conceal the body. I must clean this stuff off my hands, liy this time tomorrow we'll be go ing it." He burst into song: "Will you not come to the ball You are the fairest of all. Tiddy-tum, tlddy-tum, turn turn, turn—" He look a few fantastic steps: "Martha. I'm beginning to antici pate'a pleasant occasion.” "Sons I,” said Martha grimly, re treating to the kitchen with the bowl and gown. Lowden tapped cautiously at the little hot third floor room that was Martha's. "She's gone." he w h tapered. “Are you ready? Does it smell much?" Martha flung open the door and stood bt fore him in the flame col ored dress. "How docs it look? she asked. "1 can't help thinking it's pretty decent if It is the loundest garment in the world. It isn’t so very whiffy.” Ho leaned his tall body against the wall and looked at her care . fully, critically. He had been right! Martha was wonderful. He grinned. "You'll do. Now I want you to go down to Marie's room and make up. Not much— but a little lip rouge, a dash of powder, and a very, very little col or high on your cheeks." "I hate paint—makes me feel as if my face wasn't clean.” ' Vou do as I tell you. There's a reason.” He would not say so, but he thought her too lovely, too ex ooisiTe for the aim they sought. Martha woukl have a better lime If she were not too different. "1 lta;l only these old black slip 1 ms," she said, thrusting out a sltm foot. "I say, Alec, you look splffe yourself. I never saw you oil dolled up before.” "Then we’re ready, as soon as y io get the old war paint on. Hur ry! Your mother's- in the parlor t.ilk-ng to I’entz. We'd better sneak out the side door.” "Not much. The time for conceal ment's past. Come along, let's start something." Min. Cleburne, bolding forth u f"i-ady monologue to Mr. Pentz, stif fened ami stared. Mr. Pentz for a moment did not identify the tall man in evening clothes, nor the dark, brilliant girl by his side. "Martha!” exclaimed Mra. Cle hurne. regaining power of speech. "Mr, Bowden! What—where—” "Alec and I thought we'd look in at the club dance, mother," said Martha, languidly elegant. "I've taken your gray cape—” "But—but—that dress—" Mrs. Cleburne pointed a trembling linger. - "Oh, just a little trifle I hail sent over from Paris,” answered Martha airily. She bestowed on Mr. Pentz a knowing twinkle. "Why, you look a perfect peach!” exclaimed that gentleman, gurgling. "Thanks, old dear," said Man ha. “That was Just what I wanted to know. But I'm afraid we must run along.” As they stepped into the cool warmth of the summer night, Alec soul softly, "First round, and a knockout.” In the semi darkness Martha smiled Ironically: “old Ptnizy did play up. I hope all Ibis doesn’t bring on one of mother's attacks.” “What do you mean attacks?” "Oh, temper, mostly, sometimes indigestion. But she calls it heart trouble.” “Martha,” said Lowden, “you have a hard life. But don’t let it make you hard.” “Thanks, grandpa," she retorted. But she gave his aim a friendly pressure. "Oh, heavens, I'm get ting excited,” she said after a mo ment. “Alec, do you—do you really think I’ll have any sort of time?" “I do think you're going to have a good time, Martha. Every one here knows every one else so well that a new girl Is a sensation. That's what you’ll be, practically a new girl.” "And, after all—it doesn't matter either way,” said Martha. Then she burst out: "It does matter, awfully. You'd never know how terribly I wanted to go to this little tuppenny-ha'penny dance. I felt as though it were a symbol— that if I didn't go it meant that I'd he shut up 'there in the kitchen forever-gnd-ever. ‘ I care awfully about having a good time.” I Sine* they were late, there was no one In the clubhouse dressing room. Martha settled herself be fore the dressing table, and went over her makeup with the utmost care. This slim creature of flame and cloud entranced Martha. She ran downstairs to Alec, securely gay. "Oh. let’s get in before the music stops,” she cried. "They had not gone once around the big ballroom before the ques tions began. "Why, who is that?” “Who's the tangerine?" “Who's the vamp In red?” Ous Kramer, dancing with Marie, craned his neck. "Say—Isn’t that your sister Martha?” "Mercy—no! Martha here? Gus, you'd better get spectacles.” "Well, it looks like her. I.ook— over there, with that tall old chap from your mother's boarding house.” The music stopped and Marie had time for a good look. The crowd was clapping for an encore, but Marie pushed through them, Ous close behind her. "How did you get here?" she de manded bluntly. Martha turned carelessly. “Oh, hello. Marie. Hello. Gus! How Jolly to see you. Isn't the music nice?” "Give me the next dance?” Gus asked eagerly. "No—but the one after that.” Martha smiled at him, provocative ly. The music began again, and she drifted away with Alec. "But where did she get that dress?” Marie asked Gus, pjteously. “She—she didn’t have it yesterday. 1 don't believe mother knew she was coming.” “Oh, wake up,” remarked Gus cavalierly. “Martha's of age. She sure looks like a queen tonight. I always thought Martha would be good-looking if she'd only get the plumage. There's something peppy* about her . . .thoBe eyes of hers.” Marie grew rigid with anger. Gus —raving about Martha. And Mar tlia, dancing past her debonairly, was further offense. "You're getting on all right,” Ijowden assured Martha. "Walt till the end of this dance. You’ll be the center of a raging mob.” "I hope so,” said Martha. "It's fun. Isn't it?” The music stopped. As when a kaleidoscope Is turned, the rose and blue and white and maize and em erald frocks moved, interweaving, towards the chairs against the wall or the long windows that were on the veranda. Simultaneously the black coats took a pattern of their own—largely converging on the )>nint of flame that was Martha. "The next, Martha.” . . . "Aw* look, Gus. I spoke first.” . . , "Give me the two after that." . Miss Cleburne, please, let me make you up a program” . . “Cut It—we agreed there'd be no programs »t these dances. First come, first—” “The next dance is Gus's, said Martha. “And the one after that is Mr. Lowden's. I'm not going te promise more than two ahead.” She rightly gauged the value of uncertainty. Gus carried her off in triumph. Marie sat abandoned and forlorn in spite of the peach bloom taffeta. Alec dropped down beside her. "Give me the next, won't you?” be asked good-humoredly. “All right,” agreed Marie drear ily. Then, turning to him, for. after all, he was like one of the family, she complained: "I don’t know what to make of Martha. And where did she ever get such a loud dress? And she's painted—Martha —painted!” *“■ The men Deem to like n, u)» den pointed out to her gently. "Aft er all, she's not made up any more ''•an— vi' for Ins; •.•re.” •Tut that’s dlffvunt’ She was naive in -.er selfishness. "Martha's net—not—’’ Her aiot" -i.ind funih led for words. "Como along, the musics start ing," Iajwden said, and Marie rose She did not talk while they danced, but kipt looking after Gus und Martha. Martha tame bark to Alec, tri umphant. "Gus wants to take me out In his car tomorrow night," she confided. "He upbraids me for nev er letting Kim know what sort of girl I really am. What sort of girl am I. Alec, do you think?" "If you asked the girls here to night they’d say you are a design ing little cat. If you asked the men they’d say ’Some peach’." "And which, would you say?" ’’Fifty-fifty. Martha—are you flirting with me?" "I'd flirt with old Mr. Penz to night. Me for the primrose path after this. And, by the way. do you want to dance with me again? It ho, speak up quick.” "Conceit. No: I’ll resign In favor of youth. Give me the last dance, and I’ll be satisfied.” "The question is—will I be?” "Martha, you are trying to flirt with me. Listen, you rapacious In fant. I'll sit on the side lines and cheer for you. And In case anyone fails you. I'll leap in and claim the dance. How is that?” "Very noble. Incited, I Imagine because you’re getting winded from unusual exercise. Alec, . . . isn't Marie one wild woman?” "Wild is right.” "I’ve been thinking things out. Last night I had one idea—well, now I’ve two. I’m going to spring the latest when I get home.” A squad of pleading youths swept her away from him. True to his promise, he dropped Into a dim cor ner and watched her gaycty. She was radiant, illumined—but not for a moment did she lose her head. "Charm,” thought Lowden, ob serving her, "is woman's sword and Hhield—also, sometimes her greatest self-intoxicant. I wonder . . /’ He drifted back to the days when he. too, had youth and heedlessness and irresponsibility, and a profound belief In himself. Paris with its violet veils of mists, its teasing sunshine on gray streets, its luring vistas, its little parks of sparkling green—and he in the midst of It, painting all day. dancing all night, wasting himself as all young things do. certain that, in the end. his talent would carry him through. And he had talent! Bven now he was sure of that. How had he lost his faith in the magic of his hands? He kicked down at them musingly. They were the same hands that had made the sketches that had won his master's praise, his high, approving word. And again he felt in them the same tremor of ex citement that had thrilled him when he handled the long untouehed tubes of paint last night. W hat If he should get out ms palette and set it, stretch a bit of canvas and seek again tliat old dis carded magic? This room now arched, glowing; these figures, amusing moilern types, ail of them; Martha, in her provocative scarlet orange, to dominate and accent them all. ‘"I’ll bo getting painter’s colic next," ho tried to laugh at himself. But the temptation stayed. Why not try it? A man had a right to play with his chosen toys. He had almost fot gotten to watch for Martha, but suddenly she was standing beside him. ’’It’s the last dance.” she said. "Sorry to disturb your slumbers.” "You didn't disturb my slumbers —only my dreams, ’ lie said. After the dance, as they came out on the veranda, (Jus Kramer stopped them. ABE MARTIN On Fighting Wrinkles I - .lest One Reception After Another. There’s lots o' reudln’ matter goln' th* rounds these days on how t’ promote long life an' preserve beauty an' youthfulness, an' keep nimble an' graceful. An' we often read Interviews with ole timers Jn which they tell how they stay young an’ fit by keepln’ sweet tem pers, an’ keepln’ th' conscience open t’ Inspection, leavin’ t'bneker an' alcohol alone, keepln' th’ feet dry. being’ optimistic, an’ keepln' th' mind an’ hands employed. Tell Binkley's gran'rnaw lived till they had to feed her with a funnel. They took care o’ her Jest like she wuz a baseburner, an’ they’d poke any thing In th' funnel that would pass through It. Anything left st th' dinner table, scraps o' this or that, (offee grounds, or anything, they just poked In th' funnel, if they wuz goin’ t* be away fer a di# or two they Jest heaped th’ funnel up an' let It work through ns ther grun'niuw needed it. 8he hung on an' on, an' they never did know jest when she died. Oiltln ole lintn't miudi of a si uni. We Kit ole in years in spite o’ anything wo kin do, but kcepln' th' school boy face an’ elastic step is an other proposition. We wuz talk in’ t’ , a feller th' other day that we hadn' seen for twenty years an' he looked exactly like he did when we first met him. lie's been travelin' constantly wince th’ late fifties. He's had t’ put up with all soils o' hotels an’ boardin' houses an' railroad aeeorn modatlons. He never played golf in Ids life, all' wins never ill a beauty parlor, or bad a hot towel on his face. i|c* don't rid** hoi*#** or take hike*. He hit* no health huildln' hobble* like indoor hall an’ other lively *port*. He gits scarcely any exercise, an’ don't use no wrinkle fillin’ face creams. He's been all over the world time an’ time agin, an* ha* appeared lie fore all th’ crowned head* o' fit)rope, an mil lion* an’ million* o’ plain people In this country. He only smile* when th’ occasion warrant* it, an hn <*at* pork, Hot bread, an abso lutely no carrots, an' he drink* oof fee. AH thi* talk nbotit reception*, an’ seein' people, an’ h’lndahakin* killin’ President* l« nosh, fer "Zip." P. T. 9arnum’s original "What 1* Ft,” haJn’t done nothin’ el*e but mingle with crowds an’ brawr hands an' shake hand* since ]Mf»7, nn he haln’t got a gray hair or a wrinkle. (Copyright, ‘’I'm sure you're too tired t* walk,’’ he said to Martha, Ignor ing Alec. "I can run Marie round home and be right back after you. Please wait.’’ ‘•No,’’ said Maltha. “I'd rather walk with Alec." "If you're tired I’ll get the vil lage taxi.” Alec offered, as Gus and Marie turned away toward his car. "Tired—nonRensc. I'm all keyed up for the approaching scene at home." There was a light In the parlor of the Cleburne house. "The lions are In there, waiting to be fed,” said Maltha. "Walt on the side porch. "Make It snappy,” he whispered. She straightened herself and walked In the half-opened door. Lowden stepped In the hall, a shameless eavesdropper. "Before you begin, either of you.” he heard Martha's crisp tones."you may as well listen to me. I’ve found out a lot of things tonight. I’ve found out that I don't need to drudge and carry the burden I've been carrying. I've_ found out that I can dance and have a good time ilke other iris, a little better than most of them. And so. from this time on. I in tend to do it. If you want to play fair and give roe my share, all right. If you don’t, I'll take It anyway. But I'm going to share a few things. Koi instance: You. mother, after this, will make the dinner desserts. You’re a wonder ful cook and you may as well help. And you, Marie, will take over the third floor—sweeping, dusting, bed making, scrubbing the bath—every thing that 1've been doing on both floors, up until now; and I'll see to It that you do it right. If you don’t—you lose Gus. You saw him tonight. Bo you want him, or not?" Inarticulate noises of fury indi cated that Marie wanted Gus. "Well, then, look out. And thanks very much for your white dress. This Is It—dyed. The color doesn't suit you. so I'll keep It. Goodnight." Alec fled silently to the side porch. She found him there a mo ment later. "That was my second right Idea." Alec; I wasn't seeing true. And some thing else Is right, though I d never dreamed It could be. Namely, the copy book. "The copy book!” "You. the copy book. Don't you remember how we used to write: ‘Life Is what we make it.* I always distrusted that sentiment. But it'a true—to the extent of our own ca pacity, that is.” There was a halting silence. Alea lit a-clgaret. "What was your other idea—the first one?” he asked curiously. "Oh—that. Why, 1 meant to vamp flus and snatch him away from Marie. It was easier than I expected. Only—” “Only—” "Only I don't want hint. I don't want a man who can be caught by a red frock and a smear of paint. Too cheap. I wouldn't have him for a gift.” "There aren't any men around here who arc fit for you, Martha.” Alec spoke the words sincerely, hon estly. He became aware of a tingling, electric silence. "Oh . . . I . . . don't . . ,, know! ' drawled Martha, with utter most meaning. Then she Jumper) up and vanished in ihe house. He heard her running upstairs, the distant skim of her door. He sat «p and stared out Into the night. The darling little scamp! The little haseal* Did tie mean It? Did she? After all, he was only 12 years older than she—the dreams of earlier evening came hack with a snap. For a girl like Martha miv man, even a failure, might achieve the impossible. What a pal, what a wife she would make! She'd never l>e satisfied with a failure. But If there was anything In that copy-book stuff she'd talked about ’—there must lie! He would get out his paints again and go at It. Per The little rascal! Did she mean It? He came In, stepping blithely, smiling to himself. Blfe Is what we make it. And tomorrow la al ways a new day. A new day—with Martha. Oh, hoy! M’npyrlihl 1923 ) The I'nited Staten submarine SI in the flrnt of itn kind built fyr the navy to carry the new type navy neaplune. which in annembted on tha deck of the under*water craft pre paratory to flight. The plane, when ilinnxninted. in carried on the top of tha milimarine, In a tnnkllke con miner. ASTHMA Cu*od Before Ten Pay EK by my i ■e ls s.v