I .
(T« Be Continued Tomorrow.)
"He must have been excited,” re
marked this personage. “He phoned
ine that you were coming, but couldn't
tell me your name. Just like him.”
There was an exchange of names,
by which Jo Ellen learned that this
waa Mrs. Plnney.
"I win a five spot," remarked Mrs.
Plnney. “It being a girl."
"You mean the baby?”
“Yes. He was betting five to one
that It would be a boy. Imagine
Shaffer a father! The man acted nut
ty over the phone. You'd think he’d
had the baby himself. Sit down. Miss
Kewer.'' The chief isn’t here yet."
Mrs. Plnney’s desk was in the outer
office. There were a number of open
doors, through one of which Jo Ellen
saw a man with a bookkeeper' look.
Near the entrance was a table at
which sat a boy with hqrn-rlmmed
glasses whose elbows spanned an aft
ernoon paper. A typewriter pattered
Jerkily beyond one of the partitions.
The faint monotone of an electric
fan, like the sound of heat, held Its
place through the diluted orchestra
tion of Forty-second street.
A sound Jo Ellen didn't notice
brought Mrs. Plnney up from her
desk and drew her away. Presently
she emerged with u gesture. Jo Ellen
was to go into the room at the front.
The man at the broad desk did
not lift his eyes from a letter he was
reading. To that first glance he had
a hard look, a thin hard look, with
very deep mouth-parenthesis and a
wrinkled forehead. There were gray
patches over his ears. Probably he
was forty-five or so.
He made a movement with his right
hand, which Jo Ellen Interpreted as
an Invitation to be seated.
When he had finished the letter he
raised his head, then put the letter
quite completely away, without in
terfering with his fixed look. His
lace, which had seemed wooden, be
came metallic. Jo Ellen decided that
he was shocked or annoyed.
Suddenly he bent slightly forward.
“IIow would you like to go on the
stage?”
“I shouldn't like it at all,” said
Jo Ellen.
He lifted his wiry hands. "Gracious
God! I thank Thee!”
"Why are you thankful?” asked Jo
Ellen.
"My dear, I'm thankful for the
smallest favors—even a little thing
like that. When they look the way
you do they always—always—and
they show it—I feel as If I were
dictating to a leading woman. Tires
me out finally. It would 'give me
a lift, it would take off some of the
staggering weight that Is making me
prematurely decrepit, to know that
there is one girl, such as a man
might otherwise like to have around,
who didn't give a damn for the stage.
Of course.-you may have been tipped
off. Shaffer may have primed you.”
“He didn’t,” said Jo Ellen.
"Didn’t he find out anything about
you?”
“Not a thing."
A contortion that might have been
the equivalent or the prophecy of a
smile modified Mr. Eberly’s hardness.
“What do you suppose he thought
he was doing?"
"Mostly," said Jo Ellen, "I think lie
was being excited about a baby. I
don’t think you ought to blame him
for that.”
“A baby . . .! Blame him? I haven’t
blamed him. It’s punishment enough.
But Shaffer—”
"You mean that you have to know
something about me?”
The wrinkles In Mr. Eberly’s fore
head twisted Into a hieroglyph. A
flash of ferocity, perhaps a kind of
weary ferocity, showed for a moment.
“Shuddering saints! Can't you see
that this is like marrying you. I
could marry you offhand, In fact,
with only the Information of my eyes.
But to take you as a confidential
secretary—”
Jo Ellen finished half of a laugh
before she could check herself.
Mr. Eberly pinned her with an in
terrogatory glare.
"I was only thinking.” said Jo El
len. “that with Mr. Shaffer it must
have been something Itke love at first
sight.”
Mr. Eberly got up sharply and went
over to look into Forty-second street.
Jo Ellen remarked to the back:
"Mr. Shaffer said that anybody who
knew you would tell me you were
square. Anybody who knows me will
tell you I’m square.”
“Well, I’ll be damned!” Mr. Eberly
spun around with his hands twitch
ing in his pockets. "This is one way!
May I ask where you have worked?"
“Only in one place—for nearly a
year. I’m there now.”
Mr. Eberly wrote down Trupp's
name and telephone number, also Jo
Ellen's home address, and, at her sug
gestion, Benjamin Bogert and his
office number on Seventh avenue.
“When could you come?" he asked
when this was done. "Tomorrow?”
“I’ll have to give notice—”
"Do you think I might be able to
make It appear that this is urgent?”
“Perhaps next Monday.”
Mr. Eberly writhed. "Perhaps—?’’
“I’ll telephone to Mrs. Plnney ^he
first thing in the morning.”
"Thank you,” concluded Mr. Eberly
with an Inflection that was like shut
ting a door. . . .
Jo Ellen felt that she had closed
one door and opened another. It was
quick work—the more as of leaping
over things by reason of the loafing
Intervals behind her—this finding Mr.
Trupp mystified at his office, appeal
ing for an outward application of his
own theory about Opportunity, and
bringing in Mona Pascoe for a con
firmatory three-minute interview.
There was an awkwardness she hadn't
thought of, for the telephone rang
as this last bit of action was about
concluded. When she knew by the
first of Mr. Trupp’s words that the
other office was connected, she start
out with Mona, but not soon enough
to avoid hearing the first of Mr.
Trupp’s speeches.
“Tell your man Eberly," rumbled
Mr. Trupp. "that he's a robber.”
Yet Mr. Trupp decided to make her
comfortable as to the other things he
Said, once she was back at the end
of a reasonable interval. Incident
ally, it appeared that after the open
ing challenge to the woman there
had been some talk with Eberly him
self.
“You'd think," said Mr. .Trupp,
"they were hiring a cashier for a
bank. You really would. I remem
ber the day my father sent me. . .
I A.
Forty-second street was a glitter
ing change. To come out of the hole
In the ground Into the tumult of
Broadway at this spectacular Inter
section was sufficient to obliterate
oven the apprehensive discussions of
home. The family council did not
object to change In itself, but the
manner In which It happened was re
garded as eccentric; and Eberly Pro
ductions inspired misgivings. The
gravity of comment brought Jo Ellen
an evening of defensive explnnation.
Even the man-of-the-world liberality
of Grandmother Bogert was a bit
quelled. "That theatrical bunch,’’ she
said, "Is tough. Tou know what
they call Broadway down there—Tri
angle Alley. The Other Woman
parades the place. She's scooped up
and shoveled Into choruses. A de
cent girl can be decent anywhere, but
she can have dirty going.” Jo Ellen
went to bed smarting from the criti
cism of her Impulsive plan. She felt
as If she had been convicted of turn
ing off a path that was quite suffi
clently picturesque into a Jungle no
toriously Infested with beasts. It was
conceded that she would go armqd
and that her weapon was good, but
why prowl? And alone?
Yet here were girls getting ready to
go over Into the war. If she had
Celt differently, she might have done
that. Family ties—nothing stopped
you when you thought you had to do
that. And you would be a heroine.
She had spoken of this, and how her
own city was her place In which to
go and come and look out for her
self, Uncle Ben had said something
about shows as being not mention
able with the life and death matters
of war, and it was not until she got
Into bed that she thought of an an
Bwer. She was re:nny to say it in the
morning, with much more, but when
Uncle Ben put his arm around her
shoulders at breakfast time he said,
"Sixc them up. You'll know when
the game Isn’t right.” It appeared
that the trial of the new Job still
awaited testimony.
The truth was that Broadwsy, even
New York
--Day by Day—
By O. O. M'INTYRE.
New York, July 22.—Word has
drifted back from far-off Shanghai
that Silver Dollar McKenna has
turned the last card. He slumped
down lifeless over the gaming table.
Silver Dollar was known 20 years
ago as Broadway's squarest gambler.
He won the sobriquet Silver Dol
lar because of his custom of giving
silver dollars to waiters, messengers
and other menials for slight services.
McKenna, It was said, In his-early
days had studied for the priesthood.
He had a great shock of iron gray
hair, wore a wide hat, boiled shirt
and black shoestring tie. Once he
made an effort to go into business.
He had saved $20,000 out of his win
nings. Three months later he went
to a friend and said: "I’m cleaned.''
He borrowed $50 and boarded an
ocean liner for Monte Carlo. Sixty
three days later the friend received
a mbney order for $5000. "Here is
the loan with interest," he wrote.
In a few months ho came back again
glittering with diamonds and carry
ing a well filled purse.
There was another time when Mc
Kenna was playing poker in a room
In the old Fifth Avenue hotel. The
stakes were high and he was win
ning. The son of a prominent New
Yorker was dealing. McKenna saw
him slip some cards off the bottom
of the deck.
He stopped the deal, pushed his
pile of chips over to the cheater and
said: “Son. you need this worse than
I. Remember your place In the
world. I am just a gambler but I
play fair.” The story goes the ser
mon went home. The youth quit the
ga'ming table nnd Is today a man of
big affairs. He always kept, In touch
with McKenna.
Another story concerns an outcast
moth scorched In ths Broadway
Home. She said she had been the
toast of the town—but died a crumb
on Tenth Avenue. McKenna had
never met her but he ordered the
most expensive coffin to he had.
heaped the bier with flowers and
In a solitary carriage followed the
coffin to ths grave,
Douls Wolhelm deserted a pro
fessorship of mathematics at an
eastern university to capitalize his
ugliness on the stage. As the glow
ering and battered star in "The
Hairy Ape” he gave stark realism
to the part of a liner stoker. On
the street or wherever he goes Wol
helm’s expression of primitive brutal
ity causes heads to turn. He has
a pugnacious Jaw, a twisted nose,
beetle brow and a gorilla swing to
his bulky figure. Yet Wolhelm is the
most polished of men. His Idle hours
are spent among his collection of
books. Hs loves to roam the galleries
and attend scientific lectures.
An obese and knock-kneed woman
In a dashing riding habit was stroll
ing down ths avenue from ths park
bridle path. As she passed a carriage
one of the horses gave a loud neigh.
"Madam," shouted g newsboy, “he's
giving you the horA laugh "
(Copyright. ltlt.)
oh 5k\^-NAv.
C Mo»J O^'ER
Rl)N) LIKE
^JEVEft* THIhJG
muL ^
at Forty-second street, looked quite
matter-of-fact on that Monday morn
ing. To a seasoned person like Jo
Ellen, the Climax building was a9 pro
sale as the Van Veeder. There was
simply a little more of everything In
the landscape. There was more of
clang and scuffle until you got to the
appointed quiet of your office, and
you found yourself there with many,
instead of being alone. Certainly Mrs.
Plnney didn’t look like a menace; and
Shaffer, who had a desk In the same
room with Mrs. Plnney, carried an
effect of sophisticated meekness that
never seemed like a hazard. Jo Ellen
/VUEU. VaJMKT^N
/ D\0 UNCLE SM A \
BRING US~AOOM? )
l BILLS OR OROERi?/
ILL aer A tl LLit>J COLLAR _ UCJEPftoof |
TrtffT VIE COULO Co A SPECIAL. Ml? COwuMrTATioti -Tcxety
Tiruxrf EhOWE.CC 1C uvfrn Li an «ti<arr -— TIQcstJ AU. \wSa9,
TICKET ttUSM-LtSr IE V!EC SW«R. COLOKf
Stick. Son? all cnctl. tcurrs • -
Twe Place, An^ g=-=--~
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1 IPlBl IT Im l fi'iirm* S«»»ici. Ime. Cry* Wrtllw ***•’'*4
The Days of Real Sport By Briggs
l.»* ^
THE -CAY AFT&R
The. CIRCUS
-- —--■-■■
f •F»rift* iMf t 1 fr%M«
wondered whether any of them grew
up on a farm. Shi soon decided that
If they had, the circumstance was
not likely to become a subject of
conversation. Everything was fear
fully of Broadway and the moment.
[New shows were opening with dashes
iof war emotion In them. East re
hearsals on later shows were In prog
ress. Younger actors, removed by
draft or enlistment, were leaving
parts to be filled. There was the
question as to what a war wdnter
would mean for the stage, as for
other Interests; as to how humanity
was going to behave, and how Its be
thing it wasn’t being taken seriously
Very soon It became evident that em>
tlon would find one of its chief out<
lets at the theater; and that the work,
ers of the theater were ready fot
sacrifices, sober or hysterical, wher
ever jfce fevers of patriotism called.
*<T» Be Conttnned Tomorrow.)
THE NEBBS DELAYS ARE DANGEROUS. Directed for The Omaha Bee by Sol Heu
. _ —»
f A LETTER FROM N\BUCK . . “X
DEAR MR. NEBB- EVERYTHING TS GOING ALONG NtCElX. I HAVE \
TAKEN UP THE MATTER OF A SIDE-TRACK To THE ESTATE W\TH THE \
RATLROAD COMPANY AND THEY WILL PUT IT VN JUST AS SOON AS Wt j
START SH\PP\NG CAR-LOAD LOTS - SOME COMPANY HAS PURCHASED/
THE LAND ON BOTH S\DES OF THE ESTATE AND^
IS NOW DIGGING WELLS-1 HOPE THEY
DON'T &TRTKETHE SAME SPRING THAT
FEEDS OUR WELL. THE TRIAL HAS
HELPED MY LEGAL BUSINESS CONSID
ERABLY - GOT TWO CASES TH\S WEEK
But have ample Time to look
AFTER HOUR ftFFATRS
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PROPORTION-mNOT rrL0qS5^TMMe-A
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STRIKES ft WEU ftMO ^^_v<OuoS«T
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VLEAvES N\E AT THE POSy -^HPcr ^m'T NECESkABT
1 to UVE - ; WHY
i VYOU'RE DALLY'S - -
A GREAT GRAND FATHER*
TKtppynght. 1984, by Th« Bell Syndicate, Inc.) A »|
Barney Google and Spark Plug When Barney Practices Fishing Rudy “Catches” It. Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Billy DeBecfc
YOO SAID IT- ImTN ip''' —
getting things \ W Oh* eo8'* \
All. READN So I / I CAM HARDIN \
uie Gan Push wait tul t cut \
OFF in' a Few loose IuiTVi TUlS \
DANS .I'M going OUTFIT. Ill \
• DOWN T&WM NOW ^HOW The ujoRlD j
AMO BUN SOME WOW To LAND j
Fishing poles . A BiG Salmon • J
VOW WAIT MERC J
for mc {
TTT— /Ik .
-G>Py"|t,t m4‘ by Km« f«t«rS3yi»)iem. fnc jcr«.i Bnu.nriffct. 1C«rv«l
BRINGING UP FATHER «, si/K Drawn for ™*P°£aba,Bec by McManu*
NOW TAKE A
UTTLe WALK
AND WHEN YOO
C£X BACK •
BREAKFAST
i WILL e>E
ready:
JERRY ON THE JOB THE BUSINESS DEPRESSION Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hoban
•__ ._ _ _III _ (Copyright 1#24)
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