(Continued From Yesterday.)
"I love you. Jo Ellen!”
Her eyes were turned toward the
ljollow. She didn't see the trees;
she saw Stan Lamar. She felt his
hands, strong and warm, and the
quiver, the deep, wicked sort of quiv
er. that came with their touch. She
recalled the flash of fear about her
self that ran with the tremor. And
now Marty, who was not a secret,
who need not be explained or justi
fied, who had the benediction of home,
who was as convenient and comfort
able as a porch rocker, was repeating
the great word and Invoking the
magic of the supreme adventure. Had
she really been afraid of Stan? Had
her fear of herself only been lulled
when she was last with him? Would
the day come when she would again
be afraid? Would she be able to say
to Stan the utterly final No that she
had said to herself, and stop drifting
in *he mist of a shameless kind of
dream? It wasn't like anything else
about her. she was sure, that she
should again and again have found
herself groping for a way to shut out
Stnn for good and all. Perhaps prom
ising Marty was the one way. She
didn’t want to promise Marty, much
as she cared for him. But a prom
ise .. .
"I feel," said Marty fervently, "as
if it was all meant to be like this.
That thiR high place was chiseled out
thousands of years ago so that we
could sit here and look down into
our old playground while you said
yes. Do you know, Jo Ellen. I found
that ‘the high place’ is in ^he Bible.
Our chaplain told me. It would be
a thing you could tell a chaplain, if
you were on the other side, that on
our high place . . .”
"Marty,” Jo Ellen said quietly, "I
ought to have a long time—"
"Yes!" cried Marty. “A long time
to get used to it, Jo Ellen. Scotty!
Think how long it may be! But you
know what I want now—before I go
—to live on—so that I can say to
myself. When I get back! I’ll say it
a million times. Jo Ellen!”
When he caught her, and held her
close, she did not resist him. A warm
shiver came when she felt his lips
pressed hard against her own. She
closed her eyes, but she could see,
faintly—very far away—the always
astonishing blue eyes of Stan Lamar.
PART FOUR.
The Bolt.
I.
The pledge to Marty had a first
effect of simplifying somewhat a
world otherwise In great confusion:
and. by a consequence Jo Ellen had
hoped for, Stan seemed at a greater
distance. Actually he had come very
close, but the theory that the prom
Ise was to he a protection dulled, and
at times even quite silenced, those
speculations about fear which had
whispered so disturbingly in Jo El
len's mind. There might be some
doubt as to whether it was the prom
ise or a change in Stan that brought
the difference in her feeling. If there
were two reasons Instead of merely
one, it was the easier to forget the
apprehensive time. The situation was
affected somewhat by the fact that
Stan was called upon to make trips
to other cities, one as far as San
Francisco. He had not expected this
feature of his work. On the first
occasion he spoke of it with impa
tience, but Jo Ellen came to believe
that he liked the diversities of the
travel. Although she had told her
self that she was not Interested in
his likes and dislikes, she found the
mystery of him poignantly interest
ing. For he was still mysterious. In
some ways he seemed more myste
rious than before. As a kind of per
son he had a fascinating obscurity,
as belonging to regions not to be
fathomed. He wasn’t comfortably un
derstandable like Marty. If Marty
knew a thing you soon saw how he
came to know it. She met a good
many people who had something of
this efTect, who, in the twist of their
talk, in the things they laughed at
or were silent about, suggested
abysses of experience lying some
where beyond the shell of common
sight. But these people were not
thrust upon her as lives to be trans
lated.
She soon came to see that in this
particular region of activity nothing
was really surprising, that you were
not subject to certain sorts of ques
tion, that you could do anything you
chose to do without having to explain.
You could, for instance, go to lunch
under any circumstances that amused
you. Evidently it would not have
been considered discreet to lunch with
anyone where Eberly might be an
observer. To bo seen sitting with his
secretary might naturally provoke
dangerous speculation. However.
Eberly always lunched at a grill that
was monastirally male. When he
had been seen at dinner with a
woman it was always in the company
of a third person. The assumption
appeared to be that such an incident
was inevitably related to the crisis of
a contract.
She finally accepted an invitation
to lunch which Shaffer advanced with
the skillful innocence she came to
expect of him. Ho made no allusions
to the office. His talk about the the
atrical business was disoreetly vague
Jo Ellen asked about many thing, and
he appeared to be deeply concerned
to avoid showing how astonishing he
thought some of her questions were.
He preferred to tell about the baby
and the sheer wonder of Mrs. Shaffer.
Eoth the doctor and the nurse bad
assured him that not only in weight
but in brightness the baby was one
of those real events that sometimes
startle obstetrical science. In fact
her size was embarrassing. When they
said three weeks old people thought
they were Joking or putting over
something. She looked more like six
months.
Shaffer told Jo Ellen she could, of
course, have tickets for any show
she wanted to see. He made It clear
that attending to such things would
always be one of the easiest things
he did. Jo Ellen had been to the
theater very seldom and the new
privilege had many excitements.
These excitements were communt
cated to the home group. It was
unavoidable that they should rever
berate. Myrtle Fleck acquired a fresh
interest In the Rewers. Jo Ellen had
found many reasons to distrust
Myrtle, who had made unsuccessful
attempts to tolerate different forms
of work and was always quarreling
with her mother. For neighbor rea
sons It was necessary to make pre
tenses in explanation of the relaxed
ties. Certain school friends, and even
persons of the dignity of Mr. Sedley
Mason, gave an enlivened attention to
Jo Ellen's goings and comings. One
who could evoke theater tickets was
made to feel the pressure of a pecu
liar and unmistakably popularity.
To plays themselves Jo Ellen was
fully responsive, though a play as
a play soon lost any unvarying glam
or. She began to like one more than
another in a more critical way. She
found herself gathering up the patois
of the professionals. But the philos
ophy of the theater as an Institution
seemed to be more obscure than if
she had been somewhere else. She
heard much about the art of the stage
and about the business of the theater.
Occasionally these seemed to have a
close relationship, but just what the
relationship was she never was able
to make out. Often the art and the
business appeared ns enemies, which
was funny. Again they were sobbing
on each other's necks, which could
he uproariously funny, too. Every
body agreed about a full house and
an S.R.O. sign. Beyond this point
there was hitter and unending con
fusion. If a play was good it had
a run. If it was enough better It
was shut down In a week or two. Evi
dently there was a certain kind of
lad play that was sure of big houses
I
for an interval that had to be covered
somehow. And there was a certain
kind of good play that wouldn't have
big houses at first, but might run
for years. The sun-fire bad play thus
became a factor in the business of
the theater as a sort of dirty fellow
.who was sent out to hold the crowd
until the good play got Its clothes on
There were theories, with pRthoi In
them, about managers who put on
nine poor plays to earn money
enough to afford the sacrificial Ideai
Ism of putting on one good play that
could he appreciated hut that would
appease the chaste hungers of the
Idealistic managers. Every appeal
was directed at last to the public,
the kind of public that came to Broad
way shows. For this public there
was both cordiality and contempt. To
both the artist* who were cynics and
the managers who wers moralists it
was the common enemy. Tt belittled
the best plans. It loved to surprise
by approval and to kill gayly by
turning Its thumbs down. If It could
be appeased for a given number of
weeks, the play could go to the rest
of the country and make money.
Jo Ellen liked to wonder about
Eberly’s point of view. She never
succeeded In piecing together any
thing like an answer to her query.
She knew he must wish to give
"them" what they wanted. She knew,
too, that he had a fathomless con
tempt for "them." It was plain that
he believed profoundly In the potency
of some actors. Tet he treated all
actor* n* If they were babe* in the
wood. He went further and excoriat
ed them a* driveling fools, a* grasp
ing upetnrt*. or a* pitiful hangers on.
Money—there had to be money;
money meant that there waa appro
val; approval meant trimming and
sacrifice. (To Be Continued Tomorrow.)
New York
--Day by Day
By o. o, McIntyre.
New York, July 25. — Thoughts
while strolling about New York: The
Sixth Avenue restaurants where show
midgets go. Job hunting actresses
greeted by "No Casting" signs. A
woman Interne on a Bellevue ambu
lance. The home of a former mayor
—with two lighted lamps In old Dutch
fashion In the doorway.
How many "ra's” In "Ta-ra-ra-ra
boom-de-ay?” The flat, emphatic heat
of a gas house district. Housewives
who live In pathetic doggedness. Hus
bands who are- a prop and a habit.
Pipe layers. Muck shovelers and odd
job tollers.
Times Square at Us calmest—6 p.
m. Stage dressers going to dressing
rnoraa And the blind newsdealer at
47tja street who knows all the actors.
FurtH'e ticket speculators. Beatrice
Lillie of Chariot’s Revue. One of the
new toasts of the town.
Commissioner Enright flashes by In
his car. Perhaps dirty work at the
cross-roads. Or maybe In a hurry for
a dinner. My head Is turned—that
woman dropped something or other.
An English actor with his checkered
trousers and seal brown vest—the old
tin of fruit.
A woman swoons In a telephone
booth. Perhaps got the right number.
The wholesale millinery district In
the Thirties. That fellow has had
something besides near beer. Mum
bling to myself again. Wonder what
ever became of the little mushroom
chop run by a Sicilian with rings In
his ears.
Cheerless rug stores. Always emp
ty. A shirt shop with a sign: "We
receive patrons only by appointment.”
That’s putting the sixteen pound
bunk. Blowsy and unkempt women
dinging to the shadows. As expres
sionless as their passions.
Fifth Avenue's dying color and
flash. Yellow blobs of light simmer
ing on the gray asphalt. A rabbi In
priestly vestment gazing at a fragile
glory in oils. And another day 1#
gone.
At 110th street and Manhattan
Avenue the elevated rises to Its high
est point. Headline writers are call
Ing It suicide Point. In the past two
years five soul sick people Jumped
from the elevated to the street helow.
Three women and two men decided on
this spectacular method of ending
worldly worries.
Eavesdropped In the Rltx lobby. A
beautiful young girl Is speaking to
her companion as they enter the ele
vator: “I certainly pick the citrons.
Here I've been lunching with him and
the poor sap tells me today he's on
the wrong side of the market.”
It Is a subterranean rabbit hutch
leading down from a street In Oreen
wlch Village. A dim lit sign sways
from the lintel of the door. A hrare
of cowbells sound the warning ap
proach of the visitor. It Is the nearest
to the worst side of Paris one may
find In New York. It is the haunt
of those strange lisping lollipops—the
psycnpathlc hybrids that migrate to
Broadway. My guide was a private
detective who knows of a world rHrrly
mentioned even In whlsp**rs. It was
a relief to reach the clean tang of
night air on the sidewalk.
It Is difficult to Imagine Wash
ington Square was where New York
era once went duck hunting. It seems
so very far down tnwti now even to
those living In the Forties and what
It must seem at 272d street! Many
old homes around the Square are now
being made over Into apartment
houses. The Brevoort—the l?ist of
the old hotels—Is Installing a new
elevator. Only a few homes have a
tiny patch of lawn In front. Almost
any time of day one finds a modern
Jostling crowd on the lower strln of
the avenue.
(Copyright, 1114.)
Oh, Man! By Briggs
_______
now ru see \nhati
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Remind Met o(-‘ »T * * V FoRAOT all.
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CALLIN& Dl NNSK- hJO^J we WON'T
HAV/f? TIMii rol<
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LETS WASH (jP
»
THE NEBBS LOOK AND LEARN. Directed for The Omaha Bee by Sol Hess
• ■ _
pM(V, lC / A $10,000 DRAFT \ /mr. suDER.t WOULD ASKNtxA
15 iNm POCKET \ TO FEAST VDuR HUNGQVEVESON)
JUST RETURNING I NA GLAO MV HEART THIS £20.000 DRAFT AND THEN }
fronts orncr \ NlOT ON 'THwr / go and wash vooR hands /
or ^ ^ l SIDE -IT WOULD J \ AND I'LL LET HOU---^
„ V KNOCK IT OUT /^ \ ‘feel IT
CALEB RENROD
vjhERC HE \ E || |
RETURNED THE
SIGNED PAPERS O]
OT AGREEMENT 0
TO INCORPORATE
• the nebds
SUDER CO. N0-#6ll
FOR A HALF
MILLION DOLLARS
AND RECEIVED
A CHECK FOR
$20,000 IN
ADVANCE
hKS__ .
/ ANO MR REN POD TOLD ME THAT \ /1 WC\UT YOOYO RAY PARTICULAR
[THIS IS THE PRELIMINARY FOR, A A [ ATTTE-MTiC^^0~TvHJlWWICW4\
GREAT ADVERTISING CAMPAIGN - 4,^rNlN^HE EAR fStURE^LLtScW
. that the money from the sale Iw*w thatcoin purse andgiCct he
OF STOCK WOULD FOLLOW SOON COINS THE FREEDOM OF YOUR POCKET.
AND FOR US pLT OUT twE MEANTIME DON T MENTION y
AT LEAST 5100.000 FOR i ThiS LITTLE INCIDENT TO MRS NE3D (
\ ADVERTISING IMMEDIATELY _ \t MIGHT EXCITE HER AND SHE LL J
_——-t- L CATCH THE GUYING FEVER j—^
‘
Barney Google and Spark Plug SPARKY GETS FOREWARNING. Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Billy DeBeck
^ w * ° (Copyright 1924)
"raxe a Good look at
This moose, sparky '
WHEN WE GO UP To
CANADA NEXT WEEK
ON OuR HUNTING
Trip youll
SEE « LOT MORE
CT EM AND You
BRINGING UP FATHER u. JtSZlSLr'Si Drawn for The:.°-aha Bee by McManu*
[e»Y COLt_v: i r-v L<JC*CY* ■ I OOT \ OOlST 1
iT^^y^ocxjaCKm ■ I
I " Y' 9
I
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Se»viC». txc •
JERRY ON THE JOB NO NEW EXPENSES Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hoban
(Copyrieht 19241
ABIE THE AGENT Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hershfield
\Vj< Tliorf!
i
; fcEUClOOSf.1 WISH Vou
I HAD TAKEN SOME =
V There uas enough
V ^OR TWO
A
I
