“THE GOLDEN BED”
By WALLACE IRWM.
Produced as a Paramount Picture by Cerile B. DeMllle From a Screen
Adaptation by Jeanie Macpherson.
rcopyrlaht. 1924)
(Continued from Yesterday.)
If the two settled gentlemen ut the
next able had laughed at Candy Holtz
tt was now Candy Holtz's turn to
laugh at the world's moralities. There
was no spite In his chuckle, for he
had retained his fondness for the
Dutch Hill ghl who had first worked
magic In his heart. Strangely enough
she had given him an impulse for the
little culture lie had picked up. much
as a tramp kicks cast-off ruses from
the sidewalk. But the sarcasm of
It1 Mabel Stek, "gone wrong" accord
ing to the vernacular, an object of
popular derision—not for a hundred
years could Admail forget those beast
ly night sounds through the thin
partition when Fa Stele hail cast her
out with a vile word—that far the
tale was scarlet with Its moral. Be
good. Sav home. Cultivate domestic
virtues. But what of Mabel's story
carried on into another chapter?
Leader of the Wistaria's pony ballet,
Mabel had shaken a "scion" out of
his settled snobbery. A kick of the
leg, a turn of the eye and the plum
had fallen into her lap. She had tak
en a man away from onyp of the Beau
tiful Peake sisters—the Star-Eagle
had Implied that plainly enough. The
ancient barriers of caste were broken
and Unvirtue had triumphed.
Such thoughts revolving in his ac
tive brain, Admoh finished, his lamb
stew and his coffee and his cut of pie.
Then, because it was his habit to
* examine the baseball scores both lo
cal and nation, he opened the paper
" again, and again his eye was dis
tracted by a picture. The picture of
a girl holding a bouquet of roses
against a lacy gown which she had
worn as bridesmaid at somebody a
wedding. Certainly she was very
beautiful, even in the reproduction;
her oval, impertinent, arrogant lit
tle face sent forth a challenge from
the printed page. "Miss Flora Lee
Peake.” said the boxed-in text below,
"daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Garnet
Peake. It is rumored that her en
gagement to the Marquis of San Pilar
-vc-ill be announced today at a Syca
more Club luncheon."
This last illustrated item acted as
a check upon the cynic philosophy
which the news about Mabel Stck had
inspired. If the old caste-barriers
were breaking down, as young Car
ter s run-away match would lead the.
reader to suspect, what of this for
eigner with numerous handles to his
name who h;ul come nil the way front
Spain to gi\e his title to the pick ot
local society? Elmer Hemingway—
who had sold out his interest in the
candy business two years before and
started for the Philippines to invest
in a gold mine—would have dismissed
the Marquis with a volley of home
made socialism. Admah had heard
New York
-•Day by Day
__ J
By O. O. M*INTYRE.
New York,, Jan. 1.—Thoughts
while strolling around New York:
Women In line to buy prize fight
tickets. A movie studio. Tangled
scenery and glaring lights. And a!
ways an orchestra to inspire the ac
tors. There’s Alan Dwan with meg
aphone.
An old German cafe now an un
dertaking parlor. A full lipped and
wise eyed movie star carrying a cane
She used to cry ''Cash" in a five and
10. Now she poses as a Spanish
noblewoman. How much is a widow s
mite" There goes my hat again.
Three mental-rest-cures In a block.
And the little shop where for 20
years an old man has been trying to
turn carbon into diamonds. Winnie
Sheehan and his ponderous car and
n place -where they make dummies
for ventriloquists.
Lounging groups at the Palace.
Gaudy patterned overcoats. Hats with
tiny ‘flaming feathers. And empty
pockets. A swivel chaired lunch,
where you may read books as you
eat. Butterflies beating frail wings
against the winter.
Today an extra. Tomorrow a star.
And vice versa. Boarding house win
dow ledges. White jars. Muds and
ointments. The futile cosmetic battle
against age. A pawn broker district.
Where men seem to have ice water
In their veins.
The frightened bleat of an auto
struck dog. Wiggles a little. And is
lifeless. Poor little fellow. Now rny day
i.s ruined. The fringe of Hell's Kitchen.
A few queer o’ld peak-roofed
houses. And little penlike yards.
Where children shrink from passers
by.
The smell of gas houses. Big
dray horses. Men with bulging shoul
ders and undershot jaws. Never was
a. district so aptly named. And it's
no place for a dude cop. Fire sales.
Cheap Jewelry auctions. Raw meat
sandwich stands. And now for a
fast walk home.
The Green Room cluh gave a din
ner the other evening to honor
Percy Hammond the dramatic critic,
ftnd Jack Lait. Both are from Chi
cago. One speaker said he was In Chi
cago recently and a group of news
papermen asked if It were true that
Hammond was New York's highest
paid critic and Lait an editor. He af
firmed the report. "Funny." said the
questioner, ' they were driven out of
Chicago by the ornlthorynchi." And
looking It tifi In the dictionary the
sfteaker found it was a beast with a
bill. Another speaker said he had un
derstood that Chicago named "The
Loop" after Hammond nnd Jjiit. And
added: "They got the idea watching
them Bo home in the curly morning."
The old houses on lower Fifth avert
in are giving way to ornate a part
tie til houses. The section has failed
lngloriously to halt the onslaught ol
tin* three room and hath. Ten of thr
old mansions where fine old farnlllri
still retained their horse drawn enr
rlages for afterqoon drives uptown
have been torn down.
If. T Webster, the cartoonist, snv«
that when lie was a boy bis ambition
was to be a cook stove nnntPr. An
oilier pleasant and slmilliir task ft
seems to me, would be to name new
ij i Intent horses, in n block on'
S ' - such names ns "Beverly Court
"KlKldnn Arms," "Roosevelt Ti t
i i-i," "Hlldonla,.rhe llilli test.
Cii I'n.’ 1 K
tCcpyi ight, lGu.)
7
white gills, they explained between
rounds of Kelly pool. Spiggoties spent
all their time chicken-righting and
beating their wives. Just look at the
Spiggoties at Manila. . . .
But when Admah had paid his
lunch check and gone out for his hat
he enjoyed an elation in the region of
his local pride. He was glad that
Mabel had done so well and shown
the world a few tricks it didn't know.
And he was glad that the European
nobility had recognized the lJeakes.
. . . Gosh, he thought, that little
queen holding the bunch of roses
must be the very baby I say.' chris
tened the day I stood by the churiih
with the candy basket. . . .
As he went around the corner to
take his Ford out of its parking place
he was under the spell of a dream,
unusual to the man of action that
Admah had become.
He had been aw&y from the store
all morning, pursuing an enterprise
of his own in the young, flourishing
town which had sprung up across the
wide River after the K & G. bridge
was built. The sight of his new store
always affected Admah headily. On
a good corner—the Grand Avenue
shopping district was growing rapidly
around it—the front glowed flagrant
ly with the vermlllion paint which
he had caused to be mixed three times
to suit his eye . . . plenty of yellow
in the red. so that the folks would
stop and stare at the big gold sign.
CANDY HOLTZ. To Admah that
sight gave the esthetic pleasure which
an artist feels wthen at last he has
found his metier.
That day, as he stepped from Ills
Ford and stood regarding the effect,
his venturesome corner looked good
to Admah Holtz. His nickel-plated
electrip candy-puller in the window
was patiently, faithfully turning its
skein of strawberry-colored taffy. A
novelty in town, he had Imported that
candy-puller after having seen its
double working on the boardwalk at
Atlantic City. Jo had warned him
of the expense. Jo, of course, would.
. . . But the device was already pay
ing its own rent. More than that,
it was flashing a message to the pas
serby, telling the world about Holtz
Admah found Jo behind the counter,
weighing out taffy which lie cracked
with a little silver jiammer, There
were three customers waiting and Jn
looked peevish. Therefore Admah
hurried to the rescue in time to sat
isfy one with a half pound of pepper
mints and another with a box of
Home Sweet Chocolates—the litter he
bought in job lots from a local fac
tory and repacked under his own
label. Other customers came in and
Admah attended them handily: with
out apparent effort he served twice
fast as Jo, who prided himself on
his thoroughness.
Presently there fell a lull In trade.
While Jo worked fussily to satisfy the
demand of an old lady who came ip to
find an extinct variety of lemon drop.
Charley Finch, their thln-wrlsted
clerk, returned from lunqh. Out back
Admah cast a proprietorial eye over
his force; three colored girls stood at
marble-topped work tables dropping
peppermints out of little machines
especially made for dropping. Ma
Holtz's Iron spoon and pan had been
relegated to the past. The marble
topped tables were standardized arti
cles, manufactured by a confectioners'
supply company in Detroit. What
then had become of the reconverted
gravestone upon which Ma had so
laboriously dripped a million pep'
mints? Admah knew, and Jo, of
course, had found out. The idea had
seemed silly to Jo, but his protests
hadn't weakened Admah's determina
tion that her name and a line from
"Walk in the Light" be cut in the
slab and that it mark a mound be
side Pa Holtz's in a cluttered church
yard across the River. Sentimental
ity, you'll say. Yes, hut the golden
stones that mark a Pharaoh’s tomb
are sentimental, too.
After he had made a round of the
new store, exulting jn the neatness
and the smartness of it all, Admah
came back to the counter and found
Jo resting behind a copy of the Star
Eagle. Pale, thin and straw-colored,
the older Holtz brother had already
lost some of his front hair and wore
a tamed, uxorious look.
'Well.’ he drawled from behind
the sheet, "I see your best girl's
bobbed up again."
"Forget it." Admah invited, then
by the way of a counter Irritant, l ie
looked over that corner in S' udder
ville and about decided to take a
lease.”
"Better look out." said Jo, employ
Ing his formula Then he threw aside
his paper, wrinkled his queer HUP
forehead and inquired, "Sec here. Ad,
when's this goin' to stop?"
"When's what goin' to stop?"
"Well, we've got this store and
we're out fifteen hundred for ini
provementa. And you're still hangln’
onto them two old lunch wagons out
by the track.”
"Hi, Charley!" whispered Admah to
his thin-wristed clerk—a customer
had come in and was waiting to be
served. “Well," he explained to Jo,
"the lunch wagons are paid for. ain't
they? And we ll have that fifteen
hundred off our chests by the tenth—
money in the bank, too."
Well, we ought to let well enough
alone. What's the ideer about Scud
derville""
"Start another store like this one—
red front, taffy-puller in the window,
Candy Holtz Siam over the door.
That's the chain system we re goin
to work on—maybe all the way up
River to Cincinnata."
"Better look out,” moaned do.
"I am." replied Admah heedlessly.
"But this store here is only a starter
It's Just here to show what can be
done—"
"You're a single man. You can
afford to gamble and blow up. I
can't."
Jo, It was true, owned a quarter
interest In the randy Holtz enterprise
and his opinion was to he considered
Dut he had played so long in the role
of Cassandra that Admah had learned
to meet his formula with another.
"Say," he said as If Inspired, "d'you
want to sell out your share and go
on salary’;"
"You know durn well 1 don't,”
snapped Jo. "But you better look
out. If you git too fclg for your
britches you'll bust, that's all: Mark
my word. And how In the world can
we make pepmints fast enough to
supply stores all the way from there
to Clncinnata?"
Admah lowered his voire, for an
other ruatomer bad come In and was
stasdin* by the taffy counter a few
yards away.
■I'm talkin' up a contract with
the Pell Steam Candy Works. They
can turn out all we can use—on our
order. s*e '"
"But we're been advertlsin home
made—"
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ABIE THE AGENT Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hcrhfield
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