“THE GOLDEN BED”
By W ALLACE IRWIN.
Produced as a Paramount Picture by Cecile B. DeMillc From a Screen
Adaptation by Jeanie Macpherson.
' (Copyright. 1124)
__/
(Continued from Yesterday.)
Stature aside, the Peake girls dif
fered only in subtleties. Physically
Flora Leo was a shade the finer: a
purer blond, softer skinned, smaller
boned. Her hair was not so heavy
as Margaret's, but It held the pallid
gold of an Italian figurine. Margar
et's eyes were the more beautiful;
they had the candid quality of cry
stal against warm gray velvet. Flora
Lee's were shot with hazel—the
youthful portrait of General Horatio
Peake, Continental Army, showed
eyes like hers, accounting possibly
for his record as a duellist and an In
stigator of duels. From infancy that
dash of hazel gave Flora Lee an ad
vantage.
The Livingstone children fancied
billygoats. They kept a barn full of
(hejn. Billygoats in every stage of
horn-and-hair development. With the
aid of Rol and Jeff Carter and the
whole resident tribe. Including sev
eral anomalous negroes, they would
torture these animals into harness,
hitch them to wagons and race ex
citedly up and down the drives. The
sport amused Margaret until the day
She discovered that Rol always want
ed to be Ben Hur. Then she fell
out of her chariot and did the very
thing he most detested.
She went over to one of the stone
gate posts, climbed it by dint of con
siderable exercise and personal expo
sure, and got. herself astride the ram
paging, tail raised iron lion which
was planted there to howl defiance
against trespassers.
‘‘Margaret Peake, you come down
from there!” commands the angered
brother. . , .
‘‘You said I couldn t do it. Look.
1 can—” ,
The law of gravitation spoils her
little human boast. She loses her
balance, sinks down on all fours and
saves herself by a lucky clutch at the
monster’s unyielding mane. M
•'I'll have to tell grandmother this,
aavs Roland, frowning.
"Tattle tale'.”
“You jret down from tnere.
“Nobody can make me,” says Mar
garet. Nobody does.
On a bench not far away Flora Lee
Peake is being "read to” by old Linda,
who doesn't know one letter from an
other but follows the text by the
pictures. Flora Lee's languid eyes
are on the crude illustrations of
Sleeping Beauty; during Margaret s
idventure she hasn t taken th
trouble to look up* .
Still scolding her, Roland Is helping
Margaret shin down from the lion s
pedestal. But Flora Lee's eyes aie
New York
—Day by Day—
_____/
Hy O. O. M INTYRK.
New York. Dec. 17.-1 have,
despite the current number of ex
cellent Plays, been cleaving to my
first love—vaudeville—lately. 1 ba.e
the yokel mind that finds romance
no 'doubt in the commonplace
Vaudeville to me Is teeming with
romance. \ love the bladder-whack
era of burlesque too.
There is a beautiful young girl
in vaudeville, for instance, who
shares plaudits with a trained epe.
I wounder if there is jealousy be
tween them. He seems to run away
with the act. And what happens
to the performers vfhen the animal
they have spent so much time
trebling dies?
It seems to me the only sure fire
method of winning applause in
• vaudeville is to be a dancer and he
able to hold one foot in the hand
and jump through it with the other.
In all my experience In the halls
I have never seen it fall.
Vaudeville children live in a
world apart. Their life Is jumping
from one town to another—sleep
ing on trunks and in hotel rooms.
I wonder if they know how to play ?
off stage, they are the shyest
children I ever saw. Behind the
footlights they are the worldlest.
Amt why does a nut song never
fail to ring the bell? Mr. Gallag
her and Mr. Shean ' is still raging
Ho are a dozen more as senseless,
flog shoes with bells have a wide
appeal. And there never was a
Dutch wooden shoe dancer who
didn't get a hand, no matter how
frigid the audience.
Thera Is one thing the
vaudeville audience lacks and that
is respect for the last act on the bill.
No matter how good it may be the
house walkH out. There has never
been a solution for this problem.
Vaudeville needs a "Stay for the
Finish" campaign.
My love for acrobats and Jug
glers is unbounded—ineluding the
Scandinavian. Twice daily they risk
necks for the faintest of applause.
But did you ever see them lose
their respect for the audience?
On a legitimate stage the treatment
they receive would be rebuked with
a stinging curtain speech.
Bellevue's psychopathic ward has
a strange alcoholic case. He talks
and writes backwards. He asked to
■ehd a letter to a friend amj with
out effort he wrote thusly: "I ma
ereh ta Euvelleb dna yeht kniht I
ma yzarc. Dnes pit a knlrd.”
New Tory’s most famous boot
legger was 10 years sgo an Indif
ferent professional dancer. His en
gagements at the second rate cab
arets were few and far between.
Today he has several cars, a fine
home and his wife Is one of the
best dressed women In town. Nightly
they occupy a best, table where the
smartest crowds go. He does not
drink. Neither does she. They still
dance every dance hut It Is noticed
thaf no on* ever talks to them.
Perhaps they are happy but lino
doubts it.
The theaters, by the way, are
presenting almost every country.
There aro plays In Itusslan, Yiddish,
French, Chinese, Czecho-Slovaklan,
.laps-ese and Scottish. Why not
Turks In "Halitosis?" «,
Was the famous Jewel robbery
during the prlnea of Wales visit on
Dong Island a publicity stunt? A
keen society reporter hints at It In
this fashion: “Anna Held had her
milk baths—ao why shouldn't a,
certain Dong Island family have
their Jewel robbery?” One Ihlng Is
certain a lot of people never herore
In the social registry ha.va landed
♦ here because the prince took them
up. It la almost Impossible to |,»
lieve there ta such silly snobbish
ness in the old wrufd.
<Copyright, lilt#
on a shabby boy of thirteen who in
defiance (or is it ignorance?) of Liv
ingstone rules, has shuffled into the
gate, a market basket over his arm.
. The boy with the market basket
stops dead in his tracks and stares at
tlie two bright-haired girls. He rec
ognizes the name. To him the Peake
women aro like the goddesses whom
Aeneas knew in {Missing by the frag
rance of their tresses.
"He's the Candy Boy!” shouts Mar
garet, speaking of him as she would
of some inanimate object. "Lend me
a dime, Kawl.”
“Lend you nothin’;’’ grumbled Ro
land, and rejoins his goat.
The Candy Boy, gazing with the
fascinated look of a wild creature,
fumbles an instant with his paper
bags, then relinquishes a half-formed
plan. The girl’s crystal-gray eyes are
studying him, whether in disapproval
or sympathy he does not know. Her
look stings him. Shuffling away, he
hesitates in front of the bench where
the little girl sits with her nurse. Her
hands and her eyes go out to him,
coaxing with a sort of proud mendi
cancy. He has no power, no wish
to resist her; his action is hypnotic
as he reaches into his basket, brings
out three peppermint drops and lays
them in her soft, warm palm.
“Hey, boy!” he can hear old Un
da’s scolding tone following Him
through the gate. “What you doin’
In Jln’rel Livin’stone’s place? Ain’t
you got no sense? Mas you lost yo’
mind, boy, givin’ candy to Jedge
Peake s gTHtichlllun?”
The Peake house centered a hun
dred and fifty feet of lawn at the in
tersectiou of Archer ami limes
Streets. That conjunction meant
much in the horoscope of yesterday.
Judge Peake's was not only the best
residential lot in town, blit it held
upon it the finest residence. There
was a flourish about the Peake house
which the Cato Livingstones, with
their pallid creole stucco, French win
dows and Iron filigrees, had never
quite achieved. These two mansions
stood facing each other, separated
only by a street's width.
The Peake house was completed
nineteen years before the Civil War
Horatio Peake built it for his bride,
Miss Randolph of Aiberntarle County,
Virginia. A gentleman who traveled
much in youth, Horatio Peake di
gressed considerably from the Amer
ican taste of his day and, like Thomas
Jefferson, built to bis own ideal. Ho
ratio Peake's experiment was Renais
sance rather than Georgian; the por
tico. shading the entire lower portion
of the facade, was semi-circular in
form with tall Corinthian pillars. The
panes of the upper window's were
marked off In graceful ovals of a pat
tern seldom encountered in that re
gion of the South. A French archi
test named Pitou had suggested these
windows together with other niceties
of design.
Only Sallie Peake’s bedroom, on
the second floor overlooking the side
garden, had escaped Grandfather's
Itch for Improvement. Little Flora
Lee, born with an instinct for Ver
sailles, had loved this room since she
could see it. Mornings before her
mother was up—which was any morn
lng in the week—the small girl would
stand peering in, refusing to be bul
lied away by Linda's awesome warn
Ings. The room was charged withi
fascination. It was oval in shape,
paneled in yellow brocade; and from
the candelabra dripped crystals that
looked like ladies’ earrings. The gilt
chairs had fluted legs, ton slender
to support any' but the lightest of
princesses. Upon the floor an en
chanted carpet was Spread, flowered
with roses and garlanded with launch
Then there was Mother's bed. Horatio
Peake had brought it from Venice,
Flora Lee was to learn years later
when she owned that lied and slept
In it. As a small child she peeked at
it ami thought of the Sleeping Beauty.
. . . There were golden flowers, aspho
dels perhaps, twined all around the
headboard. Upon the apices of Its
four short posts perched gilded
swans, their wings spread, their
heads drawn bark belligerently on
seri>entine necks. . . . I.ike lovely,
graceful dragons they stood all night
and guarded dreams. . . .
An Hesperian wanderer, title bed,
in land where Georgian mahogany
reached the splendor of its polished
severity . A state barge out of some
hyperborean channel, ft had floated
into the tall house in Inness Street;
and a rather worn woman with bronze
hair and eyes that lost their wrinkles
when she slept lay ail morning, every
morning, crumpled languidly between
its guardian swans. Sometimes she
would open those eyes like pansies
caught fire in the center, and beckon
to the little spy in the door.
“Flora Lee, honey, come here an'
kiss tne good mown In
"Mother, Linda says I must go in
the Park," the child would complain,
throwing herself into arms more lan
guid than her own.
"Linda!”
{Real Folk* at Home (The Freight Elevator Man)
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ABIE THE AGENT Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hershfield
Near Knough.
fOOO,HE1?E HE 4!» AQAlrt,
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“Yns'm.” The old negress -would
step forward and assume the respect
fully critical pose of one who, in
bondage, had enjoyed her privileges.
"Linda, have you lost your mind,
smugglin' my child away in the
mawnin' before l'in so much ns
awake?"
"flood Ian. Miss Sally?’ Linda
would exclaim. Hot in the least in
timidated by the great lady whom
.she had baby-nursed, “Kf Flo’ Lee wuz
to wait in th’ house evvy niawntn*
till you woke up she’d grow like a
mushyroon, nevva seein* daylight.”
“Oh, hush, and straighten up the
room a little, will you, Linda? Sa
mantha's perfectly useless since she
got married.”
“Yas'm. Marriage takes 'em that
a-way sotn* times,” Linda would phil
osophize, stooping to sort out the lit
ter uf shoes, letters, lingerie, ribbons
and pa pel-cove red novels which
strewed the rug like objects hurled
before a high wind.
Sally Peake, propped up li\ bed, her
favorite daughter across her knees,
would study the little girl's eyes with
a sort of wild gentleness, running a
tawny curl thoughtfully across her
forefinger. Then without any ac
accountable motive she would lean
down and kiss one of the small feet;
it was a foolish act, as though Flora
law were a hare-toed baby.
"They ought never to touch the
ground, except to dance.’’ the mother
would cxi-laln, pride and pathos In
her voice.
"How coujd 1 get to the Livin'
stone Place without feet—'less I had
wings like the swans?’* Flora Lee
was fascinated by- the golden guar
i dians on her mother’s bedposts.
"Someone mud always carry yon,
my dear." Generations of self-indul
gent grandmother* spoke through her
llpe. \
"But Unda says I'm gettin' too old 1
to be carried.”
"Somebody alway s will. Always—
_(To He Continued Tomorrow.) +T*
THE NEBBS
/hello FAkikW , _Thi£> \S RoDy - 5AY. homEyTN
] WOM'T BE home FOR Dimmer-Owe of OuR {
Good customers from out or Tovsjm <S
VIS'TWG WERE AHD I'M G0lwGTOTA*E W»M j
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Directed for The Omaha Bee by Sol Hess
* (Copyright 1924)
/*I BEL'EVE EVERY MARRIED MAN &MOULO
WAVE A nvgmt OOT occasionally—»r
v.au'ES W»S UOMEOEARER tO WvM. _ RODY
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(Copyright. 1M4, by The Bell Syndicate Inc.) \ /jj_
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Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Billy DeBeck
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_ 1924 BY IhT L FfA*j«C Service. INC. *
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JERRY ON THE JOB SLIGHT DELAY. Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hoban
* ~ (Copyright lVx4l
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