The Daily Worker Newspaper, May 30, 1925, Page 11

of the Working Class) CHAPTER X. ott Aargneciin vette on the table. ogs were unmanageable, reidin’s eyes had a far-away look. 2 hastily. ler to break the nerve-wracking silence, his 7g2 Dt 1e chicken good?” usband starts. aze meets Marguerite’s eyes. ~ © =o “Look here, this is the way to eat chicken.” Marguerite almost broke into tears. “If Mr. Broidin would see!” “What have you got to do with Broidin?” Marguerite blushed. Her hand went to her cheek, She felt the pinch again. . . ‘ After the meal Nickles showered questions upon the girl. “What happened ?” Marguerite told him. An insane rage arose in him. What does the yes of the fresh, healthy girl. The embodi-|™an want with her? ; youth. more his suppressed, lascivious man’s vas aroused. roast chicken . 4. ? Yes... » he stares at the girL eks Marguerite’s. eyes. she understood him? ugha cose sroidin is happy at that? And he repeats: chicken is good. . . Very good. . .” there is silence again. The two human es eat. « * e * Broidin goes into the library. afternoon there will be guests. ce a little order’—he says—“I have scat- igar ashes.” uerite comes. ide the sun pours an abundant brightness.{one floor. There were 3roidin leans back in the arm-chair and in| the arches were the There was no end to the dishes. And there was no end to the dishes, The table service piled up before him higher and Very higher, The table service had to sparkle. The knives had to be sharpened. And while Nickles cleaned the knives and forks he thot about the whole affair. Why does he désire the'wife of another? 5 ‘ ae ® And just his wife? And he cleaned the table service. Then it occurred to him that it might not be true. The girl invented it only to tease him. This seemed to him the best solution. The work exhausted him. CHAPTER XI. THE servants lived one floor above. The architect had built the house in such a way that from outside it did not look like more than arches on top. And within “windows.” But one would 1y can watch the girl. Marguerite’s hands | have to be very good-natured to call them windows. ver the table with quick movements. She They were at the bottom of the upper floor. Very are not to move anything from its place. | little light penetrated. And as for ventilation, ves about on her tip-toes, in order not to that was impossible. the master. The library is a cool room. |'filled with a musty smell. be window trembles the fragrance of the fine to be young!” Broidin thinks to him- he thinks of his dried-up wife. : ecks out the body of the girl in fine clothes. #8 that in his thots. And he wraps her in ! of fragrance. fine the girl would fit here. suerite comes near him. I disturbing ?”’—she asks. at all.” ets up. an no longer control himself. you engaged to anybody yet?” ’—answers the girl. must enjoy you, I should think.” he pinches her cheek. girl crimsons. does not know whether this is part of her But she is a bit elated over it. runs out of the library. * * * a 2 music room she looks at her face to see if mark of fingers can be seen. the master had not pinched her gently. cheek was red. rest of the roast chicken went té the serv- guerite tried to eat with knife and fork. Oh, was a hard struggle. What is very simple ttural for the master and mistress is an im- ility for her. The tendons and sinews offer Tn resistance. cook with the kindly eyes encourages Mar- to take the bones with her hands and not| author of the radical war novel, Threc |*2“2°T Shows the ignorance which nd, because it was best for the health that| Soldiers, was produced at the Fine socie y, the chambermaid, informs them that it up-to-date any more to eat chicken with a s The play, which is highly futuristic, and fork. She herself worked for people who fhe fowl in their hands and ate that way. Marguerite resisted all tempfation. Mr.|#sainst their stuffy environment of in does not eat chicken with his hand, and on’t either. kles took his portion in his hand, in his paw, evourded-it. vas a painful sight. His hand, his face, were up to the ears. The rooms were always Nickles lay on the bed. The heat was unbearable. The’ misery of life had got hold of Nickles. His gaze fell on the polo field opposite... The masters are playing: 4a ShA RIAL actt But he is tired. The horses gallop like mad to and fro. It is im- possible to see the ball from here thru the dormer- window. Only the galloping horses can be seen. The horses galloping off without direction or goal. He is so tired. “T don’t need to play polo to get an appetite.” And suddenly he thinks of Joe. He thinks of conversations that he had with his friends. One of the conversations flitted thru his mind: Joe: How many servants are you? He: John, I, Mary, Lillian, Marguerite, the chauffer, six gardners, two to take care of the poultry. Together that makes fourteen. Joe: And they? He: Two. Joe: So for two people there are fourteen? He: Yes. Joe: And who is stronger? He: (laughing) John could throw both of them out with one hand. Joe: Why doesn’t he do it? . : He: Because it isn’t right, re Academic Boston was struck gale of modernism this week, when’ the foreigners!” a new play by John Dos Passos, meg Arts theater by the ty. Dramatic mamed\“The Moon Is a Gong.” It tells the story of a young man and woman of New England in revolt governor, and felt all young modern Back Bay. There is a delicious satire on the family pride of Boston’s upper circles in the first act of the play. the second act there and startling criticism capitalism, One of the features of this act is the introduction to of such modern devices as REVOLT IN NEW ENGLAND spires these slogans, The play was well received by the younger. generation of Harvard and Boston, but some of the old timers agreed with the radio speech of the —— Philadelphia, Notice! Weber Printing Co. 860 N, FIFTH STREET, Philadelphia, Pa By John Joe; And if it is decided everywhere, in Broad- moor, and New York, that it should be done? He: I can’t answer that question, The horses rush by in a gallop, Another conversation flits thru his mind. Joe: How many rooms have they? He: Very many. Joe: How many people would have room in all that space? He: At least a hundred. Joe: And where do you live? He: Ima hole with half a window. And there was no derlying it. It was a fact. But why?’ Why? Why?. . . Joe can only ask. Tt is true, he answers himself. But his answers are not from entire conviction as yet. How fast the horses ran. The masters are rid- ing. They don’t get tired. They are well nour- ished and healthy. Full of energy. And are always playing polo. ° Polo every day. They chase after a ball which is not visible from here. How fine it would beif they would help level the path. With so much energy wonderful roads could be built: But they are playing polo. They let the poor build the streets. . The masters prefer to play polo, That’s what they call distribution of labor. It occurs to him: ; Joe: How many books has this Broidin got? Don’t know, but there’s a whole lot. And how many books does he read? None. He sleeps in the library. How many people would like to read the ‘Lassen t : Lots of ’em, Joe: Why don’t all these take away the books from this one? That is a ridiculous question of course. But the funny thing is that, from what Joe says, that’s just what happened in Hungary....... ‘ Once he boasted how he fooled them with that story about Propapapadakis. Immediately Joe-asked: How many hours do you work? He: Sometimes ten, sometimes twelve, often thirteen. Joe: He: Joe: He: Joe: He: Joe: they? A hard question. questions. How hot the sun burns. The masters are playing polo. From below: “N-i-c-k-l-e-g-!” He has to go down. Guests—how Many guests there are in Colorado Springs! we g(To be continued neat Saturday) UNEMPLOYMENT By EARL R. BROWDER, ——— A study of the causes of this capitalist disease and the way In which the workers must fight against it. What is your wage? Forty-five dollars and maintenance. What does your maintenace cost them? Nothing, because we eat what is left over. How many days a week do you work? Seven. Well then who benefits by it? You? Or Joe always asks intricate by afor. “Lynch the labor unions! Lynch he cries, and the like yelling, “Linch — A pamphlet for your library— and one of splendid propa- ganda value to hand to your shop-mate, a -_— 5 CENTS. Order from Daily Worker Publishing Co. “| now a disgraceful white terror rages