10
JO ELLEN
By ALEXANDER BLACK. Copyright. 1H4. j
(Ocntlnned From Yesterday.)
IV.
The autumn seemed to rush b:
very quickly; which was odd In vlev
of the slowness of effect In Mr
Trupp’s office. There might be grea
excitement In print; there might bi
eubmarlna sensations and all aorta o
emotional upheavals, with prophec;
gesticulating at the brink; but Mr
Trupp could tell stories while Rom<
burned.
In the moments when he permit
ted himself to comment on the war
he Indicated an assurance as to th<
United States which had the estab
lished flavor of a religion. It ws:
simply a question as to whether thi
United States should take the tlmi
to go over and stop the thing.
Jo Ellen learned to suspect that
despite Its casualness as she saw It
Mr. Trupp had a comfortable busl
ness. Evidently most of It happened
where It was Invisible to her. Shi
would like to have gone with him ant
watch It happen. Since this was im
possible she settled into a toleratior
of conditions as they were, carried hei
book and newspaper, found ways t<
endure blank spaces, and even to en
dure Wilton when that apparition ap
peared.
A man at the other end of the slxtf
floor asked her, one morning when ht
met her at the mail chute, whethei
she knew a stenographer vt'ho could
be had. Miss Pascoe came into hei
mind and phe sent her a letter, wit!
the result that Miss Pascoe took hei
flrat place as a neighbor worker. Th<
man at the other end of the floor wai
not at all like Mr. Trupp, and had s
business that was quite as different
as the man. Mis* Pascoe worked
very hard. Her hoss had a way ol
dictating long letters at the end ol
the day to be typed and signed "pei
M. P.” after he had gone, so that
she ofte nwas in the office until 6
o'clock. It was nil wrong, Jo Eller
thought. Miss Pascoe should have
had Mr. Trupp. .To Ellen would have
known what to do with the man whc
left legacy letters.
Miss Pascoe, although she had had
longer study and practice than Jc
Ellen, was nervous for weeks. She
was, Indeed, too nervous ever to be
really well. She lacked the confidence
to make definite work plans, and Jc
Ellen's call that took her out of_the
school was the occasion for a fervent
gratefulness. The words were few
but the gratefulness was made plain.
The two formed the habit of going
out to lunch together.
One noon time when they were
leaving the building a young man
standing within the doorway took n
step forward, halted at seeing that
Jo Ellen was not alone, then decided
to ask:
"Miss Rewer?"
"Yes," answered Jo Ellen blankly.
"This Is for you,” said the strang
/ 1 ■«
New York
—Day by Day—
j
By O. O. MTNTYRB. •
New York, July 18.—Thoughts
while strolling around New York:
The aftrenoon parade along the
Rialto. Spruce old boys of 78 and
liable to go to par. A clog dancer’s
club. Wonder If they have a check
room for wooden shoes.
F. Scott Fitzgerald. And his col
legiate look. Waffle wagons and
their enticing aroma. Youthful
idlers. Nothing in their pockets but
their hand*. Sidewalk cafe tables.
Just like Paris. O, boy! What a spot.
English liner cabin boys with short
Jackets and funny caps.
Short haired girls with rasping
voices and clgaret coughs. How tough
the men have to be these days to
be effeminate. There's the humming
bird's sleeve garters—a movie hero
with a pink sport jacket. Very
Piping Rock. O, very!
Whatever became of Mike Donlln?
Almost every ham and eggery called
the St. Regis. Wilton Hackaye and
De Wolf Hopper In hunting togs.
Now we are In for some hunting
stories. Hotel porters packing
Pekes. Brides and grooms off for
Niagara.
Seance parlors. Filled with seekers
of light from the Hither and Beyond.
Dismal side street rabbit hole*—coal,
ice, kindling and Junk. A silk hat In
an ash can. How the mighty do fall.
Glrla In bloomera seeking a bit of
fresh air after a winter garden re
hearsal.
Ned Wayburn. And his old faded
sweater. There goes New York’s
most famous gambler—a pale aesthete
whose head seemt! to be knocking the
stars. A cosmetic relief station—
where glrla may freshen up their
complexion for so much per fresh
and go on their way.
The beginning of automobile row
Known to the vulgarians as gasoline
alley. The windiest corner In New
York—Fifty-seventh and Broadway.
And never without It* curb loungers.
The splash of Central park s fountain.
Now for a bench.
There are at least SO ahops In mid
town devoted to the merchandising of
bird cages. It used to be a bird cage
was for a bird but lately they are
the grand motif of the Interior dec
orator. Where they used to put a
w hat not they now put a bird cage
He came from one of those towns
where the leading citizen fell dead
In the postoffice and wasn't found
for three days. He has been In New
York three year*. Ttday he wear*
a monocle and acarves and shirts to
match hi* clothes. He sat next to me
In s restaurant the other day and
complained bitterly to the head waiter
heeauae the petite marmlte was too
well seasoned. It sometimes takes
these hoys suddenly yanked away
from a plow to show Manhattan deft
touches in city slicking.
The very same lads may b* found
at tea time casually mentioning they
nre dining tonlftht on Morgana
yacht—and at the same time stifling
s yawn. It goes over in New York,
but let them try to pull It around
| the boys on the cracker laurel In
front of the village store back home!
I recall going back home from
school one Xmas holiday In peg top
trousers, sawed off coat and moun
tainous toed shoes, I casually men
tioned to some of the boys l>e!ln Kng
had waved to me from the stage. It
whs s half truth. I was In the gallery
and she waved at all who sat there.
I remember one of the hoy* easing
■'go Delis Fox waved at you did she?
Now I'll tell one," My ego hurst with
s bang Before going horns I had
that ?**lt*| at ' Brut* *s the world,
*■« f'H *kSW Ml" fester* I let* I
ifgit Uu common clod I »u.
ifinrri**. UU.)
•r, holding out an envelope. Aa Jo
Ellen took the envelope end read her
' name, the young man vanished.
"What do you suppose . . .T” Jo
Ellen opened the envelope as they
walked, and turned to the signature,
i The name of Stan Lamar leaped from
' the sheet.
Miss Pascoe looked straight ahead
while Jo Ellen put the letter in her
! handbag.
"Some people have funny ways,
remarked Jo Ellen. There was no
occasion to go further In comment,
i particularly as Miss Pascoe did not
Intrude.
When the office wae reached Mr.
Trupp was there. Something, per
haps the elevator, made him think
of the famous Incident of that tumble
In the barn and how hard It Is to get
a doctor quick, so that your head can
pretty nearly bleed Itself empty be
fore the right way is found to stop It.
Then there was a very long letter
about a contract, with passages to be
quoted from documents on file. Jo
Ellen began to regret that she hadn't
read the letter from Stan Lamar to
be rid of it. Its whisper in the hand
bag became Intolerable. It was re
sponsible for several errors In her
typing, by which It became necessary
to do whole sheets a second time.
When at last the work was finished
and Mr. Trupp. after narrating the
Incident of an insurance man in A1
toona who backed his car into an
Elks' parade, left the office for the
day. her impatience had been dulled
to the dimensions of a grudge.
As she settled to the reading of the
letter, Wilton came In. He seldom
came In the afternoon; but there he
was. She felt as if he were listening
to what she read. Anyhow, his
silence seemed to become noisy and
his shadowy figure to crowd the place.
It -was a simple letter.
"You may not like this” Lamar
wrote), "because you have an Idea
about me that's all wrong. In that
house—It was the wrong way to meet,
I suppose. I was feeling rotten—
you know how hot It was there—
and my tongue hanging out—and you
getting me as a burglar or something
like that. Then it looked as if I
never could dig that out of your head.
When I saw you afterward I was tell
ing you the truth and I didn’t make
any hit with myself the way I acted
when you wanted to run away. 1
thought you were throwing me before
I had a fair chance. I can see how
you felt. It would have been differ
ent If we had met some other way
and If a nice friendly family hadn’t
given me a reputation. I'm not Bay
ing anything against the family, hut
I wish I could put up my own case
to you. I can't do that now. I'm
away off here in Arizona about horses.
Horses have made trouble for me be
fore this. But what I know about
them is worth something now. It's
for the war. Some day I'll be hack
In New York and then I'll try to
square myself with you. I’m not
asking you to write. I'm not giving
you any address. I know you wouldn't
write. The way this goes to you Is
the only way I could think out. The
friend that gets It through Is all right.
If he doee what I tell him. It won’t
mean anything more I have to equare
myself for. Perhaps I can start even.
I'm asking you to forget some things
and let me do that—start without too
much of a handicap, anyway. There's
no your friend at the end of this be
cause I haven’t the right yet. But
I'll fight for It. Always yours, Stan
Lamar."
Wilton decided to go away and Jo
Ellen reread the letter when quite
alone. There tvas a tingle In It. It
had much fhat wasn't said. Very
likely Mr. Btan I.amar thought he
was being very shrewd. It was to
sound sincere. Maybe It was sincere.
But the cautions only looked crafty.
No, she liked him best when he
wasn't being careful. And his careful
eat trick was not so clever as he
thought—sending a friend with the
letter. Implying a secret. There was
flattery to himself on the whole
theory of secrecy, as if he stood apart
and could continue to be considered
on such terms. The letter was an
accusation of the secret. There
shouldn't have been any secret—not
If It was to mean anything. It had
been exciting when it didn't seem that
it had to mean anything. She hart
a right I i a secret. But It was fright
fully awkward to have It grow. Go
lng back over the whole thing to ex
plain—that could look silly. Hs was
making a little affair that didn't mat
ter look like a big one that nobody
would be able to understand, and that
couldn’t be told without. ... To ex
plain you would be showing the let
ter. Tearing it up would even look
suspicious.
Yet she was glad he hadn't sent
the letter to the house It would have
been humiliating to have been forced
perhaps with no choice, to reveal,
like a naughty child, the foolish story
that had managed not to be told.
She put the letter back into h"i
handbag. At E o'clock she took k
out, read the last lines again, and
watched the piece* drop Into her
paper basket. Stan Lamar became
annoyingly vivid when the letter had
gone.
V.
In snow time ahe caught herself
wondering whether there was snow
where Btan was and what gathering
horses for a war might mean as an
occupation. Also, what trouble horses
might have made for him. Very like
ly the trouble had been mixed up
with racing or something of that
sort. . . . Perhaps something crooked
Presumably gathering horses for a
war was entirely straight._
Then suddenly It was April and the
United States was In the war, and
everybody stared and talked, and
Marty had enlisted. His father knew
a colonel and he was to Join a na
tional guard regiment then in the
south. Suddenly it was a Saturday.
and Marty, after all the talk, was
really going away. Thay war* hav
ing lunch together where there was
music, and Marty was persuading her
to dance. Hia fingers against her
back had an excited way of fidgeting.
Because It was Saturday and her aft
ernoon waa free they went up to In
wood together and swished through
the foam of left over leavea, talking
about camps, submarines, fox trots,
birthdays, and Mr. Trupp.
Marty saw to It that they came at
last to the high place. Here he
talked about letters. Would Jo Ellen
pay attention to them If they came
once In a while? Her promise had
rtot the heartiness he teemed to be
wishing for. Yet he knew that the
had never been etlrred much by let
tere. Once he had copied a poem Into
a letter and ehe never mentioned It.
although there was a special meaning
tn the lines.
(X* Be Con tinned Tomorrow)_
Oh, Man!
/
i'vVgoVtcTgo ) [ -
To CANADA ON | \ Z- 7?
A BU6INPS5 trip I j ON Me ( S not
I SO GREEN AS TOO
Think *
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By Briggs
I Vs CcT’To \l why MR. BiNnyt
Go To* Canada ( \ D»DNT Think
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on OuS'nctas / \ Pes — i - "TivEtY
^ V SUR-TRICED!
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IN' l-fTAV/INO \) Yts-l HEAR.
EPiDAV Fr,R (T IS QUITE Th£
Canada on I Thing Tb Have
a eusiNF 1 'Business‘ in
TRiP " \ CANADA _
THE NEBBS
BUY, BUY, FANNIE.
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i MAID AMD GET A .LOT OF TMvNGS l NEEDj-THWKS
£ A WONDERFUL OFFER -MOO'D BETTER Rom OOWN M,
| AMD TARE IT BEFORE HECWANGE&H\&M\nO _ yTfi
* -tu ajrv5> MORE THAN MORGAN EVER MARE OOT OF / f !
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Directed for The Omaha Bee by Sol Hete
^ /scocctcw vouft tcwnG palm — \
f O'41 S0\ / going totranseer i
/ MANX -THINGS \ A LOT 07 1
AND we NEED \ ^EtcwA.NOlSE AMO VUEARVNG \
furniture too apparel i the: minute vdu
— OUR HOUSE ) GET vooR hano on a dollar J
V. LOO^S SO / VOUR e»RA\N STARTS WONDERING J
\ SHABBY / \ WWAT nou CANl Exchange y
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(Copyright, 1984, by The B^^ndicate, fur) > . — JHr
Barney Google and Spark Plug Barney Has the Dough, But Can’t Raise It. Prawn for The SSSSlS* w?> y 1 y *
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TO *>AT "HELLO"and TOO DOCTOR
LOOK AkOO'iT THE VOUKHOW
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— AROUNCJ
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JERRY ON THE JOB A SHORT TERM LOAN Dra,ra for,S?»^,^a “** by Hoban
ABIE THE AGENT Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hershfield
Comfort Rnoach.
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