i :..—=.
: JO ELLEN
By ALEXANDER. BLACK. copyright. 19:4.
_1_—— -'
(Continued From IrMrrdtjr.l
Jo Ellen did And a special meaning
In his way of taking her hand, or at
least a stronger touch, as if what he
was thinking was nearer to the hand
i —not so much as if he were dreaming
and reaching out under some vague
need for an accompaniment. He
wasn't actually going over to the war
Just now, and his feeling about the
•illghty momentousness of the depar
ture seemed exaggerated. He always
; wanted her to see more meaning In
« things than she really could see; or
* perhaps it was that he wanted her to
f say what she saw and felt, when feel
* ings svere a busy enough matter in
J themselves.
‘‘I’ll be telling you about the camp,"
J ho said, "and how everything goes.”
r "It'll be rough work,” said Jo Ellen.
“Yes, And you’ll tell me about Mr.
Trupp and—"
“Not a word.” Jo Ellen Insisted,
f, “It would take too long.”
"Anyway—”
"Something that really happens, If
" there is anything.”
“Any you'll know all the time that
I’m thinking a lot about—about every
thing that happens to you.”
“I’m sure nothing ever will happen
to me—not really."
“You always talk," said Marty, "as
If—well, I think you'd like something
doing—fearfully—like a play, may
be—”
"If It was real.”
"Or like the war.”
"I think the war’s beastly—making
believe to hate one another.”
“They do hate one another. That's
what’s It's about."
"You don't hate anybody, »and
you're going to train—”
"Hate—no, I suppose I don't. Ex
cept—" This seemed to give Marty
an idea. He interrupted himself to
seize it, tightening the hold on Jo
Ellen's hand. “I'd rather love some
body,” he added solemnly.
Jo Ellen decided that this was be
cause he was going away and felt ro
mantle. She knew, while she noted
the bare trees in the little gulf be
low, and the odd smell that came up
from all the matted leaves, that he
was tense and Intent. Of course, it
was romantic. Wasn’t there some
thing uncomfortable about romantic
things when they tried to gather you
in, and you had to decide or say or
stop letting yourself go some simple
way of your own? In a few hours
he would be a soldier. This was what
it meant. And there were things you
considered about soldiers. You had
to begin considering these things <
when anyone was only going to be
a soldier. This was one of the ways
In which circumstances came and
took hold of you.
"YouTI have your Job,” she an
swered him Anally.
“Yes.” he said. "I’m going to
tackle it hard. I’m going to make .
i—good. And you're going to he with
I me on It—I want to be thinking that.
f X
New York
--Day by Day—
By O. O. M’INTYRK.
• New York. July 19.—The Automat
• is almost as much of an institution
. along Breadway as Times Square.
• No revut or variety show Is complete
• without Its quip about this famous
; nlckel ln-the slot eating place, hard
• by the Globe theater.
t It swirls with the froth of Broad
' way life—the perinatetlc ads of the
■ one-flight tailors, the rah, rah boys, ;
; the chorus girls, scrapping newsboys,
• Irading men, visiting school teachers,
• gamblers, ladies of the evening and
! hard-boiled gents.
• No great gulf yawns between the
• Automat nnd thfc smart cafe. After
J the theater one sees silk hats there
• as well as gleaming white shoulders.
« It Is one of the melting pots of Broad
I way, where all castes rub elbows and
• carry their food to marble topped
< tables.
t The Automat is something like the
• chafing dish—a frying pan crashing
■ Into the upper circles. The cashiers
I with their mounta'nous high pile of
' nickels, exchange them for bills and
• the customer goes from slot to slot
! Inspecting the sample enclosed In
’ glass.
; What he desires is magically shot
« out of a receptacle in exchange for o
’ nickel. These are carried to the table
‘ he selects. It is food on the fly and
• obeys the New York impulse—
Hurry! At noon and at midnight the
’ Automat bubbles with life.
There Is something engaging about
• the coffee spigot. The nickel Is In
I serted, the cup held under the spigot
Janrt the button pressed. A spurt of
«««ffee fills the cup nearly to the brim
and then magically turns to cream.
The cup Is never overflowing.
No wallers are standing about. The
* only employes are the bus boys who
remove the dishes. The menu at the
Automat Includes almost everything
from flannel cakes and smoked sau
gage to cream puffs and Welsh rare
bit.
Red Gallagher, for 25 years a hill
poster with Rarnum and Ralley's cir
cus, appeared on Broadway the other
day. Red was not supreme In his
art. He was more a dauher than an
experienced eight sheet man, yet he
managed to hold his Job. Friends
who saw him In the midst of the circus
season were surprised at hla being In
the city.
“What are you doing In town?" a
friend Inquired.
"They got smart with me,” he said,
•'and I left Rarnum and Bailey flat
Jn Pes Moines.”
The heat dressed men In New York
are to he found In Gasoline Alley—
that rechristened Broadway mile of
automobile salesmen. They are an
tomoblle salesmen. Brnhmlns In the
temple may cry: “Clothes don't sell
cars!" yet no prospective patron can
help hut he Impressed by the sarto
rial grandeur of the auto salesmen.
There Is a splendid background for
them with the Louis some hlnr or
other thrones, luxuriant groves of
palms. Indirect lighting and plush
curtain*. It la a fit setting for
monogrammed handkerchiefs, robin's
egg blue tie* and delicately striped
shirts.
The narcotic squad reports an In
-Cirase of victims In the Tenderloin of
the "black smoke"—the White Way
term for opium smoking Three song
writers ars reported to he confirmed
addicts. One leading lady has been
shle to hold her Joh only a few weeks
at a time due to her craving nr "yen”
for the pipe- Opium parlors are not
fn Chinatown's sheaf of crooked
afreets. They are to he found In
*mart apartment houses. Two were
recently rstded on Centrsl Tnrk West
(Copyright. 1114.)
You are going to be with me, aren't
you?”
"Of course," said Jo Ellen. "All
your friends—”
-More than that!” exclaimed Mar
ly. Suddenly he drew closer, caught
her tightly, and kissed her cheek. ”Jo
Ellen . . .!”
"Now you're acting foolish " She
pushed him ofT. "Just because you're
going away.”
"To be a soldier.”
Jo Ellen laughed. “A eoldier and
a gentleman!"
“When I get hack,” he said, “with
my tunic on—we're going to be near
New York before going over—I am
going to forget the gentleman part
of it."
"Threats."
"Promises.’-’
“I don't ask any promises."
"No. You won't ask anything!.
“That's true. . . . Well, I’m the one
that won't wait to be asked. I'll al
ways—we don't have friends by ask
ing, do we? . . . It's wonderful how
you get to know who the best friend
is, how you get to know the one
you've got to have—the one that
makes the difference—when some
thing big comes out in front of you
—when you have to decide about your
life—”
“Yes,” said Jo Ellen, "there's ifi
whole life coming.”
"But It doesn't come for us alone."
When he looked at her it was as
if she were arrogantly alone, and a
revolving universe, with himself in
the front of the swinging clutter, left
her unimpressed, inaccessible.. No
use reaching in and trying to get
any real hold on her. You sort of
swung loose again.
She detected a downcast look. It
was a pity ho had to be sentimental.
It was all pleasant enough when he
wasn't that way. But he was to be
a soldier.
She put a hand over one of his.
“We’ve got lots of work ahead of
us. I've got to be in this.”
Even to herself this had a very
old sound—something almost funny,
once it had come out. Perhaps a girl
had to seem old to manage things.
Yet she wasn’t feeling solemn. You
couldn't feel solemn at the beginning
of everything. She felt more like
challenging him to a run down to the
green gate.
VI.
Marty's first letter from the camp
was a practical affair, stressing the
information that would have a mili
tary sound. Evidently he was elated
extraordinarily. Jo Ellen could lmag
ine his chest sticking out. With all
this setting up and work outdoors
he would look different when she
saw him again, and perhaps be a bit
struttish, which would make Her
laugh. In later letters he offered
allusion to the time when he should
come to the Hill, before going across.
Everything depended upon what
shouid happen In the matter of the
war. He began, in fact, to have that
air of being subject to vast circum
stances and particularly to the imme
dlate pressure of authority. Jo Ellen
concluded that she would not like to
be in the grip of something that
ordered you this way and that, and
told you just when and how you
were permitted to breathe. Of course,
it was lucky that Marty, if he had to
be gripped, could be so proudly sub
missive. could get so much satisfac
tion out of that "we" way ql
thinking.”
Jo Ellen’s attitude toward the "we"
of things was to have discomforts.
Mrs. Trupp. for instance, had an
eagerness to wear something.
Mrs, Trupp was not so fat as Mr
Trupp, hut her amplitude expressed
a harmony with his; which Jo Ellen
thought could not be quite tradi
tional. She fancied that fat men
always had thin wives. The second
time Mrs. Trupp came in—the first
visit was brief and obviously for the
purpose of objectifying Mr. Trupp's
selection—she had begun telling Jo
Ellen about Mr. Trupp. He was. It
appeared, rather a trying man. Peo
ple might not think so. He was so
agreeable to everybody. But he was
trying. For one thing, he was care
less i^iout his eating. When she
could feed him he was ail right. But
he lunched with people and had no
sense at. such tlnles. The results were
fearful for his insides. She described
these results minutely. And then
about his clothes. He had no inkling
of order; none at all. Never knew
where anything was. Probably It
was the same at the office. Anyway,
he had 4 distressing habit of shedding
things at home—dropping them as If
nothing had a place. Ph king up aft
er him kept a person busy. If she
ever was away for a week or so, as
when she went to visit her sister in
Malden, the place became a sight.
When he tried to be orderly lie was
worse. It was Inconceivable that a
man could have so little judgment,
for example, about putting pants
away. She sometimes told him he
had better leave them out. He was
exasperating, too, about money; good,
you might say, at making it, but no
sense about spending it. People
cheated him a good deal. His rela
tives were simply extraordinary. Wil
ton was had enough, but there were
rascals In the lot, and some female
hangers-on that—well, it was a puzzle
why the Lord made such tiresome
people.
"Then there's his clubs,” said Mrs.
Trupp. "VVhat does he get out of
them? Not a thing. Just places to
gab in. And me sitting alone, and
tired of the magazines. Thinks clubs
are good for business; that an Insur
ance man has to mix. and all that
rot. I tell you, my dear, being a
wife to a man's exhausting.”
It often occurred to Jo Ellen that
(die might have had an Inadequate
Idea of Mr. Trupp without the help
of his wife. Yet, evidently, two views
might not always make a total. When
you worked for a man you felt about
hint as Jo Ellen did. When you were
married to him you felt ns Mrs. Trupp
did. Perhaps you couldn't really add
the two views together and find Mr
Trupp. Sometimes it seemed that one
view might have lo ha subtracted
from the other, and this was con
fusing.
During the inclement periods Mrs
Trupp seldom drop|>ed in. She cane
more frequently In the spring In
the summer she sat in range of the
electric fan and talked about war
work. She decided to put In some
hourR every other day helping with
bandages. There was a thing you
could wear with a red cross on it
that appealed to her. She never could
knit, but once In a while she tried
ii again. She understood the govern
ment had forgotten all about socks.
Imagine those poor l>oys in winter . . !
Something Jo Ellen said abou| the
slaughter In Europe brought a gasp
from Mrs. Trupp.
<T« B* Continued Monday.)
The Cross-Word Puzzler’s Bridegroom. By Briggs
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