JO ELLEN
By ALEXANDER BLACK. Copyright. 1924. I
L_/
(Conttnned From Saturday.)
“My daarl You're not a pacifist, art
you?"
Jo Ellen wasn't sure ehe knew
what a pacifist was. Eventually Mrs.
Trupp seemed to be faintly reassured.
She Indicated that Mr. Trupp's atti
tude was satisfactory. Incidentally,
she hoped the war wouldn’t hurt his
business.
The debates at home were frequent
ly complicated for Jo Ellen. Her
mother and Uncle Ben had more than
one open quarrel, in which Uncle Ben
had used the word pacifist with an
ugly emphasis. Mrs. Rewer wns in
corrigible. She could understand
about that. The best man won. But
this dirty war thing . . .
"But the dirtier it Is,” cried Uncle
Ben. “the more reason to go and
stop it!”
"That's the way they start It!” re
torted Mrs. Rewer. "In any fight you
hit first to stop it. Then you're off."
Grandmother Bogert rebuked all
argument. She saw the war as a job,
one of those things that keep coming
along nnd that you have to attend to.
Jo Ellen wasn't sure that she wholly
sided with her mother, but from the
way Uncle Ben looked at her. some
times over his shoulder when he
walked up and down the room, swing
lng his arms, ehe knew that she was
disappointing.
Xo other comment could match the
bitterness of Mona Pascoe. Miss Pas
coe's lace contorted when her hot
sarcasms were flung at the patriots,
who pounced upon objectors. It was
pathetic and startling to hear her
voice soften in the cry, "It's all so
damned cruel!”
The conflict In Jo Ellen herself
often made her miserable. There
were times, then and later, when the
need to get her hands Into the mess,
to push in some direction, appeared
to have a hot imperativeness. Sit
ting In the office and looking at the
apartment house windows made her
feel like Wilton. If she sat there
long enough it was possible that she
would get to he like Wilton, to look
like him, lips and all. Meanwhile, all
outdoors flared with war colors and
sounds.
Jo Ellen knew that something was
wrong. It might be that all this out
door show was wrong, as Mona Pas
coe believed. Or it might be that the
wrongness was in herself. Then
again, it might he that maddening
Blit between the buildings, which on
certain days seemed narrower than
others, as if the buildings might final
ly crush her between them. On these
days she was sure that the trouble
was the office, and she could stride
rapidly from one end ‘of It to the
other, to and fro, swinging like a
- --N
w
New York
—Day by Day
_j
By O. O. MTNTYRE.
New York, July 21.—A page from
Ihe diary of a modern Samuel Pepys:
17p betimes and find myself lately
awake earlier than my wont and so j
came Arthur West, the comedian, and
sang me an amusing lyrio called
“Chilly B. V. D.’s" and Jokingly in- j
vited me to a dress rehearsal of his
banging. i
To breakfast, my wife and I, with ,
John Dorrance and Maybelle Man- ;
nlng and said farewell to John i
against his going to Europe and then '
back to my stint and labored two
hours.
In the afternoon with Amon
Carter to Frank Phillips’ home for
tea and a lively crowd there includ
ing Earl Carroll, Will Edrington, a ■
iiand-kissing count, and come ex
tremely fair ladles and some of us
remained for dinner and danced.
Later to Ray's where we found ,
Tom Kinsey, Will Johnston and Hat- j
tie Bell, Lillian Young and some
others and fell to discussing dreams i
anrl their significance. So home and
to bed.
A few years ago he was an ec
centric dancer whose popularity was
amazing. He toured America, South
America and Europe with increasing ,
success and suddenly his vogue
waned. He found chilly Indifferent
everywhere. After *ix months of
seeking an engagement he has bgi '
come a feature in a second-rate
cabaret. He has really improved his
dancing and is better than ever yet
he Is in the discard. "I made myself
too conspicuous,” he told me. "I
played too many benefits and the
public grew tired of me.”
A reporter for an afternoon news
paper was sent to Interview a woman
novelist from Europe. He was to
question her it length an some ex
tremely abstruse problems. Through
error on part of the hotel clerk he
was told to go up to her room un
announced. He opened the door and
found her stretched out In a com
fortable chair smoking a big black
cigar. She was so flustered she de
clined to be Interviewed.
“Before sailing parties" In New
York are rather hectic affairs. Two
newly married couples began with
an afternoon reception on the day
lie fore their sailing. The party lasted
until S the next morning and the
brides and grooms became involved
in a quarrel and decided not to sail.
The disagreement reached the separa
tlon stage and divorce Is around the
corner.
Ixistlng quarrels are an enigma to
me. It seems such ft waste of ef
fort to pout and quit speaking to folk
or to continue disliking them. There
are only two people in the world for
whom I hold a perpetual grudge. One
Is a butcher who poisoned a dog of
mine when I was a hoy, snd the
other la a fellow who used to call me
on the telephone and begin conver
sation with, "Guess who this is?"
And about the only man I know
who allows a great and keen dis
like for me Is a fellow who bor
rowed a sum of money and to whom
I wrote a note three years later ask
ing if he considered my little invest
ment permanent.
New York thinks the great Ameri
can boob 1a the fellow who |i con
tented to live In Horsecough, Arlz.,
own hla own home, drive a flivver,
work in hla garden, attend hla lodge
nnd islt on the front potch In the
evening. We wonder what the man
fmm Horsecotigh would think of the
follow who strolls along Fifth avenue
wearing a pearl derlty, a monocle,
bow ribbon cuff links and lavender
splits He lives in a hall bedroom
In a West Fifty-seventh street hoard
ing house and la a floor walker In
a candy store.
(CsprHgbt. lilt-) j
caged panther, then slam a record
book against Mr. Trupp's partition.
She didn't hate Mr. Trupp, but his
partition permitted a more rebellious
sound.
Her restlessness, which grew more
obstinate in refusing to melt for abnn
doned intervals, gave keen signifi
cance to an incident that changed
her immediate ottMook.
VII.
The change came with an efTect of
swiftness, of fantastic swiftness. It
confirmed Jo Ellen's belief that
Chance could be impudently casual
Terhaps It wouldn t be Chance unless
it had this way of working; and evi
dently Impudence could be a formid
able enemy of Plan. You had a no
tlon of planning things, though you
hated planning. Then came a Mr.
Trupp, for example. . . .
Po Ellen and Mona were eating
lunch in a place they had chosen as
a restless variation upon their tire
some formula, and were nearing the
end of their light meal when Jo Ellen
found herself looking up at a small
person who stood at the end of their
table. He hnd stiff light hair and a
face that might mean that he was
youngishly old or oldishly young. His
eyebrows rose very high as he said,
looking at Jo Ellen.
"Excuse me, but are you a stenog
rapher?”
"Not a public one,” answered Jo
Ellen.
"Very good! I can explain why I’m
asking, if I may sit here for a mo
ment. It may look outrageous,” he
went on as he took the corner of the
third chair, "and I guess It is. Every
thing's been outrageous since yester
day. I'll explain in a moment if
you'll pardon me. You know of
Eawrence Eberly, the theatrical pro
ducer?”
"I don't," said Jo Ellen.
“That's fame for you. Anyway, he's
among the big ones in the theater
world. Important to be with him.
Important, and al30 . . . Eh, he’s very
prominent and successful, I may re
mark. And he needs a stenographer
at once. Of course, you would say,
why not go a proper way about it?
He did. He said, 'Harold, get me a
stenographer. Miss Walsh Isn’t com
ing back.’ That was yesterday after
noon. But we've been having a baby.
Frightful. I just remembered ]
hadn't eaten anything since yester
day. And no stenographer. I tele
phoned about my own trouble. Bui
the stenographer. She has to be
there. Eberly—”
"You talk," said Jo Ellen, "as If a
stenographer was something you
went and bought In a package."
"I don’t blame you at all. For all
I know this is insulting, my asking
you this way. But the Eberly job
is very interesting. Suppose this Is
unusual? What will you care how It
happened? Here's Eberly saying,
'Get a stenographer.’ He waves his
wand. It seems like that. He ex
pects to get one magically. No ste
nographer springs out of the floor.
There's me. I’ve got to be the ma
gician. But here was the baby. If
he had asked for a baby . .
"You don't suppose—” began Jo
Ellen.
"No, I dont,” Interjected Eberly’s
factotum eagerly. "But here's Eberly
—so hard to get at, with a job girls
would fall over themselves to land
And I said to myself, as soon as I
had the coffee, If that girl over there
should just happen to be a stenog
raper, and should Just happen not
to think she had n hundred per cent
Job, how do you know?—wdthout wait
Ing to go anywhere—you don't pick
up a prize In an agency—how do you
know?—quick, like that—just the way
Eberly waves his wand—”
"Where Is your office?" asked Jo
Ellen, while Mona. In a rigid awe.
whs watching her face.
"The Climax building, on Forty sec
ond. Eleventh floor. Eberly produr
tions. See here,” and Harold leaned
ff rward with the fingers of an ex
tended hand drawn sharply together,
"twenty-five dollars to start with, but
there's more than that—lots more—If
he happens—"
"If the girl should turn out to be
a miracle.”
"Don't put It that way. I tell you,
the thing's easy. Not too much work
Honest. But If you happened to pull
a hit—”
Jo Ellen laughed. "How would that
be done?”
"I don’t mean that you’d rush
down and climb into his lap. No.
Fatal. The minute you see him
you'll know. Somebody Independent
like you. Understand me. I don't dr
ride. He does that. I only hand out
a good tip, you might say. I'm sup
posed to do more. I’m supposed to
have exerrised profound judgment
Maybe I have. If I have, that's a hit
for me. Not that he'll snv so. Hr
takes my miracles for granted—but If
you're right you II like him. Get
that? He’s a remarkable man.”
"Was he brought up on a farm?"
Harold stared. "On a farm? No.
He was born In the Fourth ward.
Must he be born on a farm?”
"He mustn't." said Jo Ellen.
If Mona had been awed by a curl
oils look of fascination in the pres
ence of adventure that appeared in
Jo Ellen's eyes, she was completely
dazed when Jo Ellen turned to her to
remark, “If I took that, you could
have Mr. Trapp."
Mona’s pale face grew paler, as if
she sat at the feet of supreme <1
"Eberly'll be there from two o'clock
Why not give him the onceover’
There'd be nothing disorderly about
that. Plain business. It doesn’t mat
ter about my being fresh, or any
thing you might think I am. The
great thing is getting people together.
Ask anyhody about Eberly. Even
his enemies 'll say he's square. My
name's Shaffer."
"I’ll go to see him," said Jo Ellen,
“if you’ll tell me one thing.”
“It’s a bargain. ' and Shaffer’s eye
brows went up again. N,
; "Do I look like a stenographer?”
“O well!—" Shaffer's tired grin
flickered for a moment. "In any of
these restaurants at noon there’s an
80 per cent chance that . you are.
That's all there was to It. If you
ever really knew me I might take the
risk of telling you what I thought
you looked like. I won’t say It now
I’ve admitted I’m desperate. And
choosing when you're desperate Isn’t
any compliment. I know that. But
I hate to fall down with Kherly.
Tou'll hate to do that whan you knoV
him. A. K. C. B. says, I thank you. And
my apologies to you also.'1 added
Shaffer, glancing toward Mona as he
got up._•_
VIII.
That Shaffer’* connubial anxieties
had been deeply distracting wa» con- ,
firmed by the gray haired woman
whom Jo Ellen found in the office of^
the Eberly Productions.
(To Be Continued Tomorrow.)
On and Off—the Green.
By Briggs
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Directed for The Omaha Bee by Sol Hess
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Barney Google and Spark Plug It May Be the North Pole for All Barney Knows. Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Billy DeBeck
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JERRY ON THE JOB THE UNAPPRECIATIVE BOSS Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hoban
(Copyright 1924)
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