“THE GOLDEN BED”
By WALLACE IRWIN.
Produced as a Paramount Picture by Cedle B. De.Mille From a Screen
Adaptation by Jeanle Marpheraon.
(Copyright. 1*14)
h. _ -
(Continued from Yesterday.)
San Pilar's conversation proved,
upon analysis, to be little more than
a aeries of pleasant and naive ques
tionings. But the last question
offered a golden opportunity to
Zeno'a descriptive powers. He gave
an Impression of vast real estate hold
ings, such aa the Duke of Westmin
ster's in the gray heart of London.
Judge Peake, sah? Zeno reckoned he
owned everything from the K, & G.
down depot to the River, throwing in
the railroad, the slaughter house and
the Newberry Lumber Yards. The
Penkes had been Quality ever since
Columbus discovered America and
Judge Peake could be king, Zeno reck
oned, If he wasn't too old to take the
nomination. Everybody took off his
hat to the Peakes, including the
Mayor. Yas, sah, Mist’ Marquis, ain't
that the truth!
He was a modern negro, school
trained and Inclined, among his
friends, to boast of hts political and
social rights. But instinctively he
held the Peakes in reverental awe.
They were to hrn a standard of great
ness; all Urn mythical estates which
lie had jtlfc described, dwelt in his
imagination, an ideal of what the
Peakes should be. His pride In them
was nothing less than his pride in
himself. He had boasted magnificent
ly f0l. that this arrogant strang
er. coming to his horns town, should
dare to look down on Zeno s pan
theon And for the same reason there
were several things he did not men
tion • He failed to explain that
he, Zeno, had been hired to come in.
just as half the other servants had
been hired to come in. during San
Pilar's star. He failed to explain how
The servants were gossiping of unpaid
but. hers’ bills even while the ovens
were choked with festival meats. «>r
how Mr. Garnett had been quarreling
with his second wife because she re
fused to surrender any more Jr0".™
from her own estate. Nor did he give
the true reason why the fine <-d man
sion now stood Isolated a mo"* shops
hoarding houses and public institu
Hons. Zeno, in fact, had lied like a
S' Meanwhile the Marquis Carlos Do
mingo de San Pilar descended to the
first dinner dance of his season in
that generous Southern cit>_ M^
laughing voices, coming from the
wide drawing room apprised him of
ttie fact that guests had arrived and
that he was, as usual, a little lat •
"Bunny, you little old slow poke.
\ beautiful comet, all in rose and
silver, rushed at him .lust as he
rounded the newel-post and addiessed
him thus unceremoniously. Bunny.
She always had names f'"' ' J'1^* '.JV'
-she would call him that, the little
** '"Adorable!" he whispered, lull Flora
Bee drew hack her sweetly modeled
head* hazel eves teased him and a led
mouth with an interesting little c rease
in its lower lip invited him >et
warned him away. Between < arlus
New York
••Day by Day
By 0. 0. M INTYRE.
New l'oik, Dec, 29 —It Is tiecoming
the custom for young girls suddenly
yanked from behind the glove coun
ter to the front row of the chorus
to develop hursts of temperament.
The spot-lyht seems to blind them to
common sense. i
There puffs of hysterics usually
manage to reach the newspapers.
And not a week passes without some
girl "walking out on the show.
Stage people take themselves a bit
too seriously. It i» not unusual for
stars to step out of their character
and to the footlights to berate the
audience for lack of fervor.
.lust the other week a doggy movie
Don Juan noted for his perfectly
priceless marcelle wave left a I.ong
Island lot flat because a carpenter
v.-as whistling during a scene wherein
he was leading some banker's wife
astray.
And a female star insisted that a
htg printed notice to be put up in
the studio reading: "The star must
insist on extras not speaking to her.”
Producers are at fault in humoring
them. Instead of giving them honey
ed words they should give a recherche
horse laugh.
Few people are paid so highly
for mediocre talent. And It is the
public paying the bill. Yet an actor
will not hesitate when a bright line
fails to land on the funnybone to ask
with a sneer: "What’s the matter?
Are you all handcuffed?"
The old wheeze that no one ever
waxes temperamental with a police
man applies to stage folk. Most of
the temperamental outbursts land
where they know there will be no
reaction. And that Is why I like the
comics and acrobata of vaudeville.
They %-ork hard and expect little
but are extremely grateful for what
applause they receive. They never
complain If the audience walks out
on their act. They accept it as part of
the game and plunge in to make
their act better.
Sam Is an office boy In a maga
zine office. He came over from Rus
sla four years ago. He la one of those
engaging lads who thinks nothing Is
too much trouble, and la keen with
the Joy of living. He goes to night
school and has not only mastered
Knglish but Is proficient In shorthand
and typowrltttng. A few days ago
he sailed as the private secretary to
a novelist. The moral, If any, Is ob
vious.
When T waa Sam’s sge I recall
I was not studying or working. I
was, as was the manner of the
times, practicing flinging back a long
lock of hair with a flirt of the head.
That In thoae days was real swank.
It la comparable now perhaps to hit
ting It. out for a road house in a
low slung roadster at 109 mllea an
hour,
A rati red New Tork bachelor con
fesaes he only dresses once a week
and that la to go to a play. Ths rest
of the time he lounges about In houae
robes, reads and frolics with a ken
nel of dogs he keeps on the roof of
the apartment house where he Uvea.
Until I came to New York I hed
never seen those gaudy silk house
robes New Yorkers sffeot. I had rend
shout them only In Robert W. Cham
bers’ novels- Now they nre part of
•very well equipped wardrobe. They
are even being worn on the street
late at night hy men out siring their
dogs.
Incidentally I saw one stlk robe In
a Firth avenue haberdashery that
bore a pries tsg marked 1460,
(Copyright, lilt 4
i
A
and Flora Lee kissing was over for
•the time. He hadn't asked her fath
er. as a serious foreigner should, and
she had passed the point of trifling.
Also people from the drawing room
could see them and talk and venture
opinions.
A wave of emotion seemed to sweep
him forward, quite at the mercy of
this North American girl, who en
joyed a freedom, permitted intimacies
unheard of among unmarried ladies of
his world. In their early philander
ings back in Paris he had remained
sane enough to consider her estates in
the New World. Tonight he was be
yond such calculations. He was reck
lessly in love for the first time, per
haps In seven years.
The Peakes had never been more
lavish with their decorations. I'nder
garlands of red roses, hanging from
chandeliers to cornices a score of
pretty girls, their faces animated un
der the fluffy pompadours of 1!>13.
their shoulders veiled In clouds of
pin’e. blue and sliver tulle, their arms
decorously sheathed in long white
gloves, their waists pinched in and
girt with sashes, their narrow skirts
flounced and ruffled, stood In animat
ed groups; eyes shining, lips busy
with affable nonsense, they held the
attention of young cavaliers much as
their grandmothers had done in the
days when the Peake drawing room
had been Victorian in its stilted ele
gance. To Judge Peake this younger
tribe was a rough and rowdy breed:
but his presence lent a certain state
liness as he went among them to
night. a distinguished, withered old
fellow who had offered hospitality in
this house for nearly fifty years. To
the Marquis of San Pilar he gave his
fine, wrinkled hand with a "glad to
see you. sir," and the two of them
exchanged a look of recognition.
Whatever tHeir difference in breeding,
they were men of the same caste.
"Oh. Rol ad! Rol!" Flora Lee was
signaling to a tallish young man, ob
viously a Peake. "He's the Big
Brother." she whispered to San Pilar.
“He's only been married six months,
and it's turned him into a regular
murdering bore. Rol. come here."
The murdering bore shook hands
with the imported marquis. San Pilar
appraised him rapidly. He wore tin
same mark of race that they all had.
hut it had diminished into little more
than a family resemblance. A strang
er. the Spaniard had noticed this pe
culiarlty with a certain shrewdness.
Grandfather, son, grandson—Peake?
on a diminishing scale. Was it true,
he asked himself, that these North
Americans lacked vigor of blood to
maintain their families through many
generations? ,
The cocktails were going round
again and Bunny—Flora Lee Insisted
on that name after her second drink
—was making boon companions of
them all. A man of (lie world, quick
on his feet, lie could adjust himself
instantly to the Faubourg Saint tier
inuln or the Bal Tabarin. The chat
ter and coquetry of the younger fry
amused and excited him. Flora Lee.
her deathless animation heightened
by three cocktails, had gathered her
usual group of young men, and bv
the languid management of her eyr
wa? leading at least two of them to
believe that there was yet a little
hope. The Judge and Garnett and the
second Mrs. Peake had joined a cir
cle of the elders under the centra!
chandelier and the old gentleman wa?
grimly hiding his disapproval of his
youngest grandchild, smoking a clg
aret and calling to Harris for another
cocktail.
“Where's Margaret?" he asked
abruptly- of his daughter-in-law
"Oh—she's late—I'm sure I don't
know.”
"Remarkable." muttered the old
gentleman. Margaret was seldom
late. If it had been Flora Lee.
now. . . .
Just then the Marquis de San Pilar
raised his eyes to see another Flora
Lee, grown a little taller, a little old
er. a little more aerious. standing on
tbs threshold of the wi(je door. She
larked some" of the sparkle and the
deviltry of Flora Lee. Just AS her hair
was less lustrous, her ?kln less trans
parent. But she had fine eyes. .
The. owner of those fine eyes moved
forward and the Peakes' distinguished
was presented to her. She received
his compliments with a small, secre
tive smile and her manner, although
excellent, was rather cold. He Judged
her to be sarcastic. San Pilar should
have known, for he had studied many
women. She lingered Just an instant,
then crossed the room to where her
stepmother stood.
"Miss Nellie—" she began—she had
never learned to call her "Mother" as
Flora Lee did so glibly—"can't you
change my place, or let me stay out'’"
"Margaret, darling!" This in a wor
rled stage whisper.
"Jeff farter can't come. He's lust
telephoned. Something about hnsi
ness in Baltimore."
"How horrid of him!" began Mrs.
Peake, then more practically. "Hebe
Savage has Just telephoned, too. Thai
makes It even. Tell Harris, won't
yon, honey?"
Out In the dining room Margaret
retained that fixed, mysterious smile.
she was even jolly with Harris, whom
she regarded more as an old friend
than an old servant. But it wouldn't
do to give the negroes even a hint ot
what was brewing. She loved them
and she knew their very human
faults.
"Close ranks, Harris—two of ur
have dropped out," she commander!
merrily. And do let's hurry or the
cocktails'll play out."
"Tas'rn, Miss Mahgaret. And which
cards, please, mussa move?"
"Oh. Just shuffle mine over to Miss
Hebe Savage's place. She isn’t com
inp. And take off these two plates."
Not a word about Jeff Carter s elev
enth hour defection. Miss Margaret
chose to sit beside Mr. Jimmy Wilder
—if the move signified anything more
than that old Harris was not the one
to betray it. For he was a gentle
man. too; he had Livingstone blood in
hl'g veins. So it was nicely arranged,
the matter of plates. On the wtav
back to the drawing room Margaret
encountered a servant with a few- tin
touched cocktails on Ms tray. She
took one and draink it hastily, then
went back into the drawing 'ocm.
She wove her way through the
crowd and, almost instinctively,
sought out .llmmy Wilder. She
found the Evening Pemocrat's famous
city editor, an empty glass in one
hand. • full one In the other, hold
ing off two old gentlemen while he
committed sacrilege upon Southern
Ancestry.
. . and I don't see much use In
learriln' about the mythology of
Oreece and Rome. The mythology of
Virginia Is enough to keep me busy
the reat of my life. . .
".lames, your arm!"" cried Margaret
ftyly when he had finished his 8*n*
tence and set down both glasses.
(To B* Continued Tomorrow.)
What probably makes the road to
heaven more unpopular is that there
is too strong a tendency on the part
of the parsons to make it a toll road.
*—Columbia Record.
.- —. —- „ _ . , . *
Real Folks at Home (the Street Sweeper) By Briggs
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ABIE THE AGENT Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hershfield
Truth Will Out
HOU> ABOUT TAKlOC* X SAVNjc^
A UVrye uiAuc • SuBE,Juui.s
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___ (Copyright 19-4)
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