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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Jan. 30, 1925)
- (CentliM from Yesterday.) Admah drank with her and was more than eatlsfted. A glance around the table assured him that Flora Lee had don# well. On her left the had seated Ferris Crowell, a young gen tleman who had entered politics •quipped with an hereditary thirst and a passion for public speaking. Mrs. Eustone had been honored in order to still her dangerous tongue. Colonel Atierbury and his wife rep resented stability; Connie Platt was always charming, drunk or sober. As . the evening fared noisily toward mid night and scattered couples ate scat tered desserts the host l>egnn to feel that the party was worth his while. Flora Lee's little hand-pat under the table had wrought that change in hint. The Atterburya went home early, as did many of the older generation. Again Admah'a hand was thrust out to meet other hands while compli mentary voices hummed like bees. When these more responsible citizens had withdrawn newer and wilder Sat sumas flowed in to fill the gaps around the table. Everybody danced with everybody—except Admah and Mrs. Eustone. 'They had moved over and were sitting side by side, as for mutual warmth. Finally he became aware that th< bootlegger's sauterne had poisoned him mildly, bringing on coma. Slink ing ofT his drowsiness he envied O’Neill who had shamelessly gone to sleep in his chair. Couples came and went. They grew familiar with him, slapping him on the back and declar ing that he was the life of the party. Then suddenly the orchestra stopped as though its mad musicians, over strained with effort, had fainted sim ultaneously. The impressive Mr. Crowell arose and tapped Ills water glass with a spoon. Something was to happen. Something important. ‘•One minute!" The room, which had been filled with bawlings and discords, became still. A speech im pended. Admah hated speeches and hit) head was beginlng to ache again. "Ladles and gen|lemen,” belled the elocutionary voice, "I want to pro pose a toast. A gentleman who has arisen In our midst, to be a giant among men and to adorn our fair city with the fruits of his genius and farsightedness; who has caused the flagging wheels of industry to turn again and—er—produce tenfold. A gentleman who, like another Medici of—er—Florence has gathered to him self the good things of this world in order that the arts may be glorified ---s New York --Day by Day __J By O. O. M'lNTYRK. New York. .Ian. 29.—Thoughts while strolling around New York: Chinatown at dusk. "Two CJun" Mur phy of the narcotic squad. Small, wiry and a scrapper. Slipslopping an cients with arms in their sleeves. Printers in the morning newspaper shop. The Balcony of Port Arthur. Hung with lantern*. "Old Horse and Wag on," the only Chinese begger in the quarter. The nightly trail to the joss house. And the faraway beat of a tom-tom. Mnaty shops displaying dried fruit and Iechce nuts. Children in flowered kimonos, playing hop-scotch. Yap wagon guides leading the faithful. Policemen si rol ling in pairs. Shuttered upstairs win dows where white wives live. The old Chinese theater—now an all night mission. Chatham square with its clatter and hang. Dope vendors. Fortune tellers. Flower sellers. Bootblacks and sailors. The curious blowziness of the down ami-outers. Mumbling lips. Unshaven chins. And the hang dog look of the thoroughly beaten. Lurid movie posters. Men warming their hands over charcoal in area ways. Shawled women. Whatever be came of the russet apple? Beefsteak John's. Shadowy and sawdusty. Dead wires—crossed and crossed and cross ed. What n frightful thing poverty is. Park Row's fanfaronade. Brisk merchants. Endless carts. Baxter street clothing shops. The wall of an accordion. The cobbled stone street that leads to the river. Why does a man always want to spit off the end of a dock? The rumble roar under Brooklyn bridge. Old women selling newspa pers. The white-haired blind fiddler who Is ever smiling. Scattered pa per over City Hall park. The mayor's car. An Englishman steps In a taxi and tells the driver to “Flip along!" This Is a dog story. The people who own him carry him alsmt where ever they go. He Is paralyzed and can not walk. And how his legs came to be paralyzed is that one day when a child of the family was sitting in a garden a centipede fell on her shoulder. The dog, sensing danger, with a quick stroke of his paw knocked the centipede off: But the centipede got the dog. He can never walk again. And writes a man who loves dogs: "And when the folks all go away from here to set. their feet In the fields of asphodel don’t you Ihtnlc they will want to take the dog along? And don't you think (lint tiod will let him in?" The answer is easy. Of course he will. Old Bart, who has presided at the stage door of the New Amsterdam for many years. Is going lo retire. For many years lie lias sat in Ms cane bottomed chair, smoking ills pipe —a rather odd figure in the tinseled world. Old Hart wus a sort of father confessor for the gay creatures who passed him night after night. He sent many stage door Johns away and encouraged young girls to read, offering them good books from hlr llttls library. There Is always sometblng gay and refreshing about a sudden rain to me. I like the blunder of thunder and the splashing and slicing of the down pour. There Is sense to tne saying "Right as rain.” I was caught in a Shower on Forty second street and groups clotted In doorwa vs to wait for 1t to pass. There was something com fordable In our Isolation end all began ♦ n talk -something unusual for New Yorkers suddenly cast together, t think the rain brightened their spirits li made an otherwise diffident group t ry human (Co»)rl*|it. 1821 ) ar.d that our fair city may he second to none In the land. A gentleman, sir, whom It is a compliment to know, an honor to call fri»nd. Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, it Is mj prtvi lege to raise this brimming glass—" The noise swelled to a Babel, “Holta!" "Admah.For he'* ■ |ollj good fellow.'' All this was going on at once and some stout fellow was struggling to shove Admah to his feel . . . "(Jet up:" a voice was command lng In his ear. Admah had half raised hi* clumsy body, a puzzled lm pulse to obey, when two slim, naked arms, developing astonishing strength went across his shoulders, forcing him back In his seat. Tie looked up stupidly and saw that Flora l,ee was on her feet, her eyes flaming against Ferris Crowell's for bidding glare. "Aw. Flora Jjee," Crowell was pro testing, "it's not your party. Give him a chance. Give—" “Will you let me alone?" she de manded shrilly, and an instant later she had parried his arm. and using her chair as a mounting block, sprung up on the tabic. Glasses, flowers were scattered right and left with a kick of her impatient little feet. "Flora Lee! Give her a chance!" "Down In front!" "We want Admah!” The calls were all mixed together, a formless pandemonium till she had reached down mid picked up a wine glass. The artful pallor witli which she ordinarily chose to mask her face had disappeared; her cheeks were bright as peonies. Holding her glass aloft, a small fury with tawny locks flying and eyes burning will) mis chievous light, she stood an instant, smiling around her. "Keep still, everybody! ' ehe shrilled across tne room. The Bedlam began to subside. Then a walt#r dropped a tray; somebody giggled, but Flora I.ee stood her ground, challenging. Impudent, reck less." “We haven't got time for a long speech," she resumed, when at last •he had her chance. "But If you're going to drink to Admah I want you to drink to me, too. Drink to our happiness. Wish us luck. Admah and I are going to be married—” Admah beard no more. Either the noise itt the room or the noise In his Ijead had deafened him completely. It was a dream, of course. Thai was it. He'd sat there so long, wailing and wondering how to ask Mrs. Eustom about Savarac that he’d nodded ar.d imagined this whole fantasia. . But the guests at Ills party were tak ing It seriously, that was sure. All the world seemed to lie swooping down on him,*groping for his hand, already weary of shaking. People pounded him on the back and made 3 great to-do about Happiness. Little Hebe Ballinger rolled her kind brown eyes and thought it had been in the air. Mrs. Eustone Jumped at him with a kiss, a spiteful pick. She hoped Flora Lee wouldn't mind. They were such friends. So that was the situation. For some reason or other they were cn gaged. The thing he had never dared to consider bad come about effort lessly, the goddess of his timid adora. tiou having arisen in public and dropped her heart in his lap. It can't be real, he thought, and again the ugly voice In his ear whispered: What's it all about? Everybody was kissing Flora I.ee. They had forced the happy couple together, closing around them. . Then when she had passed her arm through his and nestled against him bo knew it wasn’t a dream. He had 'ett her sweet body like this once before, in an hour too poignant for sleep's thin fancies. . . . At last the crowd seemed to grew tired of saying the same thing about Happiness; they reeled away on a wave of noise. The engaged couple w'ere left together. “Take me home," she whispered. "I’m most dead." At the door they were overtaken by a weedy young man in a sketch;,• overcoat. He said he was a reporter. Admah could say nothing—how could he? But Flora Lee led the young man Into a writing room and gave hint several minutes of her attention. Admah paid a bellboy to get her coat and his. Still waiting, he won dered what It was all about. They drove home In silence. Her body, unusually erect, never touched his; a spell had come over them, mak ing it impossible for either to speak. For Admah that was not strange; nof he bad never known her to b“ still for so long. . . . Once he glanced swiftlj and saw that her eyes w> r* lowered toward little hands, folded helplessly In her lap. He took her up the shoddy nm'blo steps, past the clumsy brick ■ "pings of her apartment house. In the ves tibule there was a dim night light, and he had just reached out to ring the bell when she seized him by the wrist. lie turned to find her That Guiltiest Feeling By Briggs cay1h€aTo I |W5URANCe - I AMD AUTOMOBILE . ^VrST* |Dt~MTlF»CAT|CN / FUlMTI. CARDS VWITH V MV PHOTO ABIE THE AGENT Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hershfield loo Strong a Protest. I : ■ a M looking up at him, mournfully, be seechingly "Admah,” she moaned, "what have I done?’’ "It wasn't anything," h» ahtwered dully. “Only I was sort of surprised/' “i’ve done a horrid, rotten thing," she went on. “And you mu?.n’t for give me." '•Oh, shucks—" he began. "I'd taken too much wine. that awful stuff! I hardly knew v,'h«t 1 was doing. I was so proud of you, I think—after Verrls Crowell'.! speech —J said thr first thing that came into my head.^Admah. I'm so ashamed." He made no answer, but regarded her dumbly. _ ' •Til do niv very beet to equare tht*. Admail. I know all the newepapet men. I'll go to them and hare them huah it up. The Sycamore crowd will underetand. They know me. They know how craiy I am how awful— oh, my dear, how could I do a thing like that7" She had covered her far* and w;.e beginning to cry. That »ai too much for the reserve of Admah Holt* which had held him. a stone wall, l.tke a lion he leaped that barricade and seized upon her and crushed her to his breast. •'It's what I’ve wanted since I can remembered," he growled In her ear "I couldn’t believe it. that's nil. Hut I know It. now You r* my *in don* wrens You've always been, end you're going When"' he eshert. puzr.led » to he. You’re niv girl. d<» you hear:' an Idea which he wns quite unabh -Sly dear, I am. I know I am’" to receive. Her slim, sweet itrma went around iTo Be feet tweed lom.irrnwd his neck and ahe held up her little ,0 ^ lhe cn b mouth for his KISS, j„ Mills production of "Th.. tiolden B-e "You will forwlte me won* you „t Ih. atr,„d Thestec Meeting SstU'i*’ Adniah?" she coaxed. "I know I've .t.tiu«r> I ,ui»»ii>rmHn_. "_I. « w-% a r> ill THE NEBBS HARD-HEARTED EMMA. 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