Evening Star Newspaper, July 31, 1921, Page 61

) ¢ r A4y humored HE nurses at the sanatorium were all fond of the gentlest patient in the place, and they spoke of him as “Uncle Char- ley,” though he was so sweetly dig- nified that usually they addressed him as “Mr. Blake,” even when ii was necessary to humor his delusion The delusion was a misfortune pain- ful only to himself. For all that, it closed him in as completely as if he had been walled up in concrete. Moreover, one day he was a sane man and the next he was in custody as a lunatic, yet nothing had hap- pened in this little interval to count for = seizure so instantaneous. in 1904 no more commonplace Young man could have been found in any of the great towns of our eastern and near eastern levels. “Well brought up.” he had inherited the quiet manner, the good health ang the moderate wealth of his par- ents. It was in the autunm of the year Just mentioned that he went for the o time to Europe, accompanying his sister. Mrs. Gordon Troup, an experienced traveler. She took him through the English cathedrals, then cross the channe!, and they arrived unfatigued at her usual hotel in Paris after dark on a clear November evening. Mrs. Troup's three-year-old daughter, Jeannette, with a nurse, completed the small party. They dined in the salon of their upartment. and at about 9 o'clock, as they finished their coffee. Mrs. Troup suggesteg the theater—a pan- tomime or balld for preference, since her brother's unfamiliarity with the French language rapidly spoken might give him a dull evening at a comedy. So they went to the Marigny, where they saw part of & potpourri. called a “revue” and they left the Marigny for the Folies Ber- ] meres. The ‘revue” at the Folies Bergeres was even feebler, Mrs. Troup observed to her brother, and much bolder than that at the Marigny; the feebleness was in the wit, the boldness in the anatomical exposures, which were somewhat dis- comfiting—*'even for Paris,” she eaid. * % kR sHE remembered afterward that he remained silent, frowning at the stage, where some figurantes just then appeared to be dressed in ball gowns, until they turned, when they appeared to be dressed almost not at all. “Mercy!” said Mrs. Troup, and presently asked her brother if he would mind taking her back to the hotel; So much, dullness and 80 much brazenness together fatigued Ter, she explained. He assented briefly ang they made their way through the outer room, where a “Hungarlan” band played stormily for a painted and danger. ous-looking procession slowly _cir- eling like sluggish skaters in a rink. Young Mr. Blake seemed to .be he paused for a moment, looking ' confused. But Mrs. Troup pressed hi N ‘Let’'s get out to the air” she said. “Did you ever see anything like it?" He replied that he never did; they stepped into a cab at the door. and on the way to the hotel Mrs. Troup expressed contrition as a courler. “I shouldn't have given you this for your first impression of Paris,” she sald. “We ought to have waited until morning and then gone to the Sainte Chapelle. I'll try to make up for tonight by taking you there the first thing tomorrow. To her mind, at icast, the even- ing’s experience was the slightest of episodes, and her brother told her not to “bother,” but to “forget it.” He spoke casually, but as he went into his own room and closed the door 'his forehead still showed the same frown that she had observed in the theater. The outer door of the apartment, glving entrance to their little hall- way. opened upon a main corridor of the hotel; she locked this door and took the key with her into her bedchamber, and this precaution of hers later made it certain that her! brother had without doubt passed | the night in his own room. Her little girl's nurse woke her the next morning, and, the woman's voice and expression “showed such ! distress that Mrs. Troup jumped up at once. “Is something wrons with Jeannette? “No. ma'am, “Is he 112" “I think so—that is, T don't know, ma’am. A valet-de-chambre went into his room half an hour ago and Mr. Blake hid himself under the bed.” “What “Perhaps you'd better come and! see, maam. The valet-de-chambre } 1s_very frightened of him. I But it was poor. young Mr. Blake Xlo was more afraid of the valet-de- | bre, and of everybody else, for that matter, as Mrs. Troup discov- ered. He declined to come out from under the bed so long as she and the nurse and the valet were present. “But whit's the matter, Charley, ear? she asked. greatly disturbed. ‘Why are you under the bed?" And in_his voice. as he replied, a pathetic indignation was audible. “Because 1 haven't got any clothes| Good It is Mr. Blake.” At this she began to laugh. avens— ‘But no mesdam. the valet ex- . “He is dressed all entirely. 1f_you will stoop and look—"" She did and saw that ‘her brother ! was fully dressed. “Can’t you taie| these people away? " he cried pet-| tishly. “Do you think it's nice to stand around looking at a person that's got nothing on?" And thus began his delusion—his long, long delusion. which knew no variation in the sixteen years it pos- sessed him. Mrs. Troup had him quietly brought home to a suburban sanatorium convenient for her to visit at intervals. He was the most tractable patient in the institution, so long as his delusion was discreet- yet it is probable that the complete record of kleptomania wo‘u;d not disclose a more expert thief. * ok ok * TH!S was but a natural outgrowth of this dizease, which within a vear or two had developed to the point of fine legerdemain. and at the end of ten years Dr. Cowrie, the chief at the sanatorium, declared that his patient, Uncle Charley Blake, could “steal the trousers off a man's legs without the man himself being aware of it.” TIt,is certuin that “Uncle Charley” eould steal the most carefully fastened and safety-pinned apron from a nurse, without the nurse’s being aware of it. Indeed, attendants, nurses and servants who wore aprons learned to remove them before entering his room, for the most watchful coulq seldom prevent what seemed a miraculous exchange, and “Uncle Charley” would be wear- ing the apron that seemed but a ‘moment before to be secure upon the intruder. He read nothing. had no diversions and was immersed in the sole pre- occupaion of devising means to ob- tain garments which, immediately after he put them on, were dissolved into nothingness, so far as his con- sciousness was concerned. Mrs. Troup made efforts to interest him in - “books and the outside world.” Kkindly ef- forts that only irritated him. “How can I read books and newspapers”” he inqui peevishly from under the bed, where he received her. “Don’t you know any better than to talk about intellectual pursuits to a man that hasn’t got a sitch of clothes 1o his name? Please use your reason a little, Frances ‘Mrs. Troup sighed and rose to de- art—but found that her fur cloak ad disappeared under the bed. In fact, he had explained his con- dition to her quite perfectly: it was merely an excessive protraction of the nervous anxiety experienced by @« rational person whose entire ward- robe is missing. No sensitive gen- tleman, under such circumstances, has attention to’ =pare from His ef- fort ciothe himself: and all in- formation not bearing upon that ! when he moved. “EVERY ONE OF THOSE HOYS SEEM TO BE EITHER KNOCK-KNEED effort ‘will fail upon” his mind. Rfp Van Winkle beat Uncle Char- ley by four years. Rip Van Winkle's body lay upon the hill like a ston the while his slimber was vagu decorated with thousan and Uncle Charley Blake had the full .use of his body, and was all the time lost in one particular and defi- nite dream: still if Rip Van Winkle could awake, so ould Uncle Charle: At least, this ‘was the, view of the Younger alienist, Dr. Morphy, who Succeeded Dr. Cowrie in 1919. In the course of some long and svmpathetic talks with his patient Dr. Morphy slightly emphasized a suggestion that of late tin had come to be considered the most desirable clothing material; the stiffness and glitter of tin, as well as the sound of it, enabled a person to be pretty sure he had something over him, the doctor explained. Then e ook an of important effect engraving of Don Quixote in armor | wvit | to a_tinsmith. had nim make a of armor in tin, and left.it in Uncle C [C cormidn: b stolen. “The patient accepted the tin armor as the firét apparel. he believed tangible and opaque enough for modesty since the night his sister had. taken him to the Folies Ber- £oves i 1800 Tha' morm<. for te first time, his bed at the sound of a knock upon_the door, and when he went out for his exercise he broke his {long habit of darting from the shel- ! ter of ona tree to another. The tin sinched him at the_ joints and Dr. Morphy pointed out that silver cloth, with rows of tiny bells sewed pon here and there, would glitter and sound even better than tin. When the patient had worn a suit of this silver cloth, instead of tin, for a few weeks, the bells were gradually removed. a row at a time, until finally they were all gone Af that the 'silver was secretly tar- nished, yet the patient remained sat- isfied. Next a woolen 'suit of vivid green and red plald was substitute and others followed, each milder thar. its predecessor, until at last Uncle Charley grew accustomed to the daily thought that he was clothed. His intelligence cleared, in fact; until upon Thanksgiving day. 1920, when Mrs. Troup came to take him’ away. h- was i evervthino- except a body forty-six years ald— the same young man who had arrived in Paris on a November evening in 1904. His information, his point of view and hic convictions w-re those of a commonplace, well-brought-up. conventional young American of that period; he had merely to bridge the gap. greaves * ok ok ok DR. MORPHY advised Mrs. Troup - that the bridging must b done with ae little strain as possible upon the convalescent’'s mind, and there- ! fore: the devoted lady ‘took her brother to a mountain health resort, where for a month they lived in a de- tached cottage, walked -footpaths in the woods, ‘went to bed at 9, and made no acquaintances. Mrs. Troup dispensed with newspapers for the time, but she had brought such books as she thought might be use- ful; and every day she talked to him as had seen during the latter part of his incarceration. “I declare!” he said. “No sensible person could make head or tail of it, if 1 may use such an expression. | 1 never dreamed anything could ac- tually come of all these eccentricities —woman’'s rights, sccialism, blue Sundays, prohibition and what not. I've heard of such people—heard jokes about ‘em—but never in my life met a person that went in seri- ously for any of 'em. How on earth did it all happen?” Upon this she was able to enlighten him but feebly, and he rubbed his forehead again. ¢ “It's no use,” he told her. “There’s no’ reason behind these things; the only thing to do is realize that the world’s gone crazy.” Mr. Blake went to hjs afternoon nap. shaking his head, but in silence. Naturelly he was confused by what ne heard from her, and once or twice he was confused by some things hé saw, though in their seclu- sion he saw little. One mistake he made, however, amazed .his sister. From their pleasant veranda a rounded . green slope descended slowly to the level lawn surrounding the Georgian upheavings of“ug end- less hotel; and at a port cochere of this hotel ‘a dozen young women, come from a ride on the hills, were getting dowm from their saddles. of dreams, | he made no dive under: instructively as she_ could, of the terrific culminations history | ! | MARKED. cottage a hundred yards distant, ob- served them thoughtfully. “It-may be only the difference in fashions,” he remarked; “but peo- ple's figures look very queer to me. The actual shapes seem to have changed as much as the clothes. You're used to them, I suppose, and so they don't surprise you, but down there at ‘that porte cochere, for in- stance, the figures all look odd and well, sort of bunchy. To me. every single one of those boys seems to be knockkneed or bowlegged. “Boys!” Mrs. Troup cried. He stared at her. “What they? “Good gracious! They're women!" _ He still stared at her, but he said nothing at all, and after a moment more turned dway and went to his room. When he appeared at the table he reverted to the topic of which they had been speaking that afternoon. “Prohibition must have altered a great many people’s lives quite vio- lently,” he said, “I suppos it was quite 'a shock for people who'd al- ways had wine or Scotch at dinner —giving it up so suddenly. suppose so—I don't know. A little color showed below Mrs. Troup's eyes. “Of courSe, quite a number of people had supplies on hand when the day came.” ‘But most of that must be gone by this time.” “Quite a good deal of it is gone, !yes; you don’t see wine very often any more. People who have any \left are getting very piggish about {it, I believe.” , It must be 0dd,” he sald contem- platively, “the whole country's bein, j absolutely sober and dry, like this { “Well—" she began, then, after a pause went on: “It isn't like that | —exactly. You see. are Don't you see? i Tj “Oh, of course, there would.be a few moonshine stills and low dives,” he interrupted. “But people of our circ! “Aren't exactly ‘dry,’ Charles.” i “But if they have no wine or- I_“Its my impression,” said Mrs, y Troun, “that certain queer kinds of ! whisky and gin . i “But we were speaking of ‘our circle’—the kind of people we—" “Yes, I know.” she said. “They jearry these liquids about with them lin the most exquisite flasks. Jean- i nette has one—a boy friend gave it ito her—and it must have been made by a silversmith who is a real artist. It must have been fearfully expen- sive. i, Mr. Blake's open mouth remained |distended for a moment. “Your he exclamied. “Why, "Oh, she’s nineteen,” his sister in- formeq him soothingly. “But was it exactly nice for her eive such a gift from a young we know.” Mrs. 7roup explained. “They swim together every day.” ‘Swim together'?" her brother in- quired feebly. es,” said Mrs.. Troup. has a tank.” ‘His aunt has a tank'™ the con- valescent repeated in a low voice, as If he wished to get the sentence by heart. “His aunt has a tank.’ " Mrs. Troup coughed placatively. “Of course, even I feel obliged to have something in the house at home —a_certain amount of whisky. I !don’t dpprove of such things, nat- { urally, but Jeannette feels it's neces- sary on account of the young men and the other girls; but she doesn’t like whisky and never touches it herself.” , R EANNETTE'S uncle uttered &Zsigh of velief. “I should think not! I ‘was afraid, from what you told me of her flask—" - g * 'Oh, in that.” ‘she keeps gin Gin?* he said in a whisper. “Gin?" “She’s rather fond of gin,” Mrs. Troup informed him. “She makes 1 it herself -from recipe; it's quite simple 1 believ. ‘And she carries this flask- *“Oh, not all the time!" Mrs. Troup protested, laughing. “Only to dances and girls’ lunches.” And, observing her brother's expreggion, she added: “Of course, she never takes too much; you mustn't get a wrong idea of Jeannette. She and all the girls of her set don't believe in that, at all—I'm positive none of them has ever been intoxicated. They have the very highest principles.” . “They have?” “Yes; you se “His aunt said Mrs. Troup, . Jeannetie has read Mr. Blake, upon the veranda of the | Wells ‘Oh. he’s one of the nicest boys | | | | ! ! OR BOW-LEGGED,” MR. BLAKE RE- and Shaw since she twelve. you must try to understand that she | ever seen, Charles, belongs to “a different generation, Charles: S0 many influence: your own youth at all. For ir- stapce, she always insisted on going to the movies even when she was was | danced” them. When you meet Jeannette [ est revival of dancing: the world's {§ opposite seat, was so deeply attentive to a book that he had not noticed the delivery of the telegram. He looke® up vaguely. “S8o many of these books abo the war and the after effeéts of war say that there is to be a world.~ All the young people made up theit minds that the ol world was a failure,and they're g ing to have something different. It' clear that they intend the new worl to be much more spiritual than old one. Well, I'm anxious to sgh it. T'm mighty angious to see these new young people ‘who—" . His sister, interrupted him. “You'll see* some of them soon enough, it " And she, hunded him the clegram to read. 3 { ‘Thought I better let you know fn ‘ase you prefet taking Uncle Charleg} o hotel for first night at home us um throwing toddle about forty cou- jles al house sausaye breakfast at | gm to finish the show and Blacka- maloo Band might disturb Unele “harles.” 4 Uncle Charles was somewhat dis- urbed by the telegram itself. *‘Aumi, .Mrowing toddie, " he tiurmured. “She melns she's givihg a dance; 1is sister expiained, ffowning. “It's really not very considerate of her, our first evening at home; but Jean- nette is just made of impulses. I'm afraid_it may be very upsetting for u, Charles. 3 “You could send her a telegram from the next station,” he suggested. You could ask her to telephone her friends and nostnone the—<-" g Not Jeanette!” Mrs. Troup laughed. o wouldn't pay any attention. have no influence with her. “You haven't?" “No.* And upon this Mrs. Troup became graver. “I don't think her father would have had any either if he.had lived. Jeannette al seemed to think he was just a joke. even when she was a child. ~Thej truth is, she's like a great many of her’ friends; they seem to lack the quality of respect. I noticed it first when she was thirteen years old. It seemed to break out on her, as it were, that year.” “How did it happen?” “Why, we were staying at a sum- mer hotel, a rather gay place, and I'm afraid’ 1 left her 0o much to her governess—I liked tangoins: “Tangoing?" he said | as it a game?” ‘No;.a dance. tango'; I don’t know why. was_‘turkey-trotting.’ “Turkey-trotting’?" he said husk- iringly. They called it ‘the And there ERE «\J/ELL. that.” she expluined, “was really the machiche that tour- ists used to see in Paris at the Bal Bullier. In fact, you saw it your- self, Charles. A couple danced the machiche that night at Folies Ber——" She checked herself hastily, bit her lip, and then recoverlng. she -said: “I got quite ond of all fhose dances after we imTorted them.” “You mean you got used to lookmg at them? he asked slowly. You went to see them at places where they were allowed?” At this she laughed. “No, of course I danced them myself.” 'hy, of course!” . “No one—" He faltered. ever saw you do it “Why, of course. All those dances that uged to seem so shocking to. us when we went to look at them in foreign places—well, . it turned out that they were perfectly all right and proper_when you danced them yourself. Everybody danced them. People who'd given up dancing for years—ghat oldest kind of people— It began the- great: .| something indescribable began. *“No one and the—' He interrupted her. o a little You see, Jeannette has had | slower, please,” he said, and applied that didn’t efleu(ll handkerchief to his _forehead. ‘About your seeming to lose your authority with Jeannette— “Yes; I was trying to fell you. a litle girl, and I rather enjoy them |She used to sit up watching ue danc- myself when I'm tired; and then there’s the new stage—and the new |mer, novel—you know, we have everything | go to bed! on the stage and in books that we ing in the hotel ballroom that' sum- D. C, JULY 31, 1991_PART ibim up | stand v5 id his sister. “In fact, I'll be sur- | rised if she remembers to send the | r for us" - But as it happened. Jeannette sent the car, and they were comfortably taken homeward. Mrs. Troup' led | to his room and left him there, ‘Jearinette: dressing. they ell me.” she said. ' “Hurry ang dress oursell. so as to see her a minute before she gets foo busy dancing. | 's late.” i In spite of her instruction, he was 100 nervous to-dress quickly, he con- tinued to prepare' himself for a state “@ppearance, until a strange event up- sct_him. ¥ H There were a few thin squeaks | and Jow " Blasts of - warning—small | noise® incomprehensible to him, and seemnigly distant—when suddenly burst forth the most cutrageous up- roar he had ever heard, and he thought it just outsidé. his door. When - it happened, he was standing with hix right foot elevated to pene- trate the orifice of that deg of his ‘rousers, but the .shock of . sound overturned him; his foot became en- tangled, and he fell upon the floor. Lying there, helpless, he heard aj silver husky voice, sweet as bells even when it Screamed, as it had to scream ! now to muke itself heard o, I don't want ‘The Maiden's Dream’:| Stop it; dam it!" And the outrage| became silence. murmurously broken | by only the silvery voice which was; itself now indistinguishable. Fingers tapped ‘on his door. “Do; hurry, Charles dear.” Mrs. Troup said. “Jeannette's arguing with the musi-1 ¢ians. but she might have a moment or two to see you now. People are’ beginning to com “With whom?" he asked hoarsely. not_attempting to move. “*With whom' what? his sister inquired, through the closed door. “You said she's arguing. whom?" “The musicians. They began to play ‘The Maiden's Dream,’ but she wants something livelier.” = . “Livelier?” ‘T must run.” M, “Do hurry, Charles. Charles rose, completed his and stepped outside his door. * % ok HE found “himself upon a gallery which looked down upon a broad hall floored in wood now darkly lus- trous with wax. He had a confused impression of strewn and drifting great tropical flowers in haphasard clusters and flaring again, in their unfamiliar colors, from the reflecting darkness of the polished floor; such dresges as he had never seen; and flesh-tints, too, of ivory and rose And from these clusters and from the short-coated men among them the shouting voices rose to him in such uproarious garbling chorus that it in- creased his_ timidity. Suddenly he jumped. The crash that startled him came from directly be- neath the part of the gallery where he stood. “The-ypusicians” had just launched the dance music. The clusters of tropical flowers were agi- tated, broken up. The short black coats seized upon them, and they seized upon the short black coats; | | \ 1 don’t under- shouting | With . Troup shouted. toilet The dance music did not throb—the nervous: gentleman in the. gallery re- membered dance music that throbbed, dance music that tinkled merrily, dance music that swam, dance music that sang, and sometimes sang sadly and perhaps too sweetly of romantic love—but this was incredible! it beat once or twice, and then under chance circumstances which had cost him a hurried apology. Moreover. i performers were by no mears ‘all youthful; heads ~white as clouds moved here and there among the toddlers: o did dyed heads, and &0 did portly figures. “I came up to point Jeannette out to you,” Mrs. Troup explained. shout- Ing in her brother's ear. “I wanted you to see her dancing;’ she looks so beautiful. There she is! See!| Doesn’t she look pretty’ His eyes aimed. along her extend- ed forefinger and found Jeannette. *x x® YEANNETTE did “look pretty” in- deed. She was a glowing, dark- eyed, dark-haired, exquisite young thing shimmering with happiness. One of her childish shoulders bore a jeweleq string: the other nothing.* Most of her back and a part of each of her sides were untrammeled; and her skirt came several inches below the knee, unless she sat. Nothing her uncle had pver seen had been so pretty as Jeannette. 2 To her four grandparents Jean- nette would have been merely unbe- lievable. , Her eight great-grandpar- | ents, plonecers and imaginative, might have believed her and her clothes possible, but they would have be- lieved with horror. In fact, to find ‘ancestors who would not be shocked The » | upon his brain with bludgeons and blackjacks, rose in. hideous upheavals of sound, fell into chaos, squawked in convulsions, seemed about to die, so that eighty pairs of shoes and slippers were heard in husky whispers against the waxed floor; then this music leap- led to life again more ferociously than ever. . Once in his boyhood the gallery listener had been taken through a slaughterhouse; and this was what came back to him now. As the pigs are forced, crowding against one another, through the chute, their and I just couldn’t make her That was the first time she deliberately disobeyed me, but used to think could only be in books|it was a radical change in her; since “BUT and on the stage in France, because here the police—" “But_in France” he interrupted, ‘—in France they didn't let the jeune fille read the books or go to the theater.” She paused, tully: “Of course, Jeannette smokes. What!" “Oh, that's nothing at all” she said _hastily. “They've had to per: mit it in nearly all the restaurant He rose, leaning heavily upon hi chair. as if for support, and looking rather more pallid than usual. “I think, if_vyou don’t mind.” he mur- mured, “I'll go directly to bed—and rest.” “Do.” she said, sympathetically. “We'll talk some more about Jeannette tomorrow. She's the most lovably pretty thing in the world, and you'll be cra—" She changed the phrase hastily. “You'll be delighted to have such a niece." P But, as it_happened, when she be- gan to speak of Jeannette the mext day he gently protested. “I'm sure I couldn’t understand,” he said, “and the effort rather upsets me. It would be better to wait and let me form my own impressions when I see her.” ‘A week later, when they were on the train. and half the way home, a telegram was handed to--Mrs. Troup by the porter..gHer brother, in the then added ' thought- NO, MADAME! THE VALET EXPLAINED. ¢“HE IS DRESSED ENTIRELY. LOO Kee? > that she’s just done exactly she pleased. He wiped *his forehead again, and inquired: “You say she’s given dances while you've been away with me?" “Oh,” she asks plenty of married people, of course. We won't reach the house till almost nine, and you can go straight to bed Charles. T'm afraid the music may disturb you; that's all. Dance-music is rather loud- ish, nowadays.” 1 was thinking,”’ he said slowly, was thinking maybe I'd dress and look on for a whil¢; 1 do want to see.these new young people. It might’ be a good ‘thing for me to begin to get accustomed—-—" “So it might,” she agreed, bright- ening. “The truth is, I enjoy Jean- nette’s dances myself. I like to enter into things with her and be more like a gisterly companion’ than a mother in the old-fashioned. strict sense That's the modern spirit, Charles; to be a hajl-fellow of your.chidren— more a wise comrade than a parent. So, if you feel that you would be interested in looking on. and wof't be disturbed—well, that's just- too lovely! And you'll adore Jeannette! He was sure of that, he said; and added that as he was Jeannetts uncle, he supposed it would be prop- er to kiss her when shé met them at_the -station. - % B! “Oh, she won't be at the statjon,” what feet pounding the thunderous floor, they scream horror with their ut- most lungs: and the dumfounded gentleman recalled these mortal IF YOU WILL STOOP AND squealings now, though there was more ,to this music. ‘There shouid be added, among other noises, all the agony three poisoned caté can feel in thelr entrails, the belaborings of hollow-log tomtoms by aruwimi witch-doctors, and incessant cries of passion from the depths of negroes ecstacized with oddy. | A plump hgnd 'fnucbea Mr. Blake's shoulder, and, lifting his pale glance from below; he found that his sister had ascended the gallery s speak to' him. . “What are they doing down there?” he_shouted. “Toddling. “You mean dancin, “Yes: toddling. It fun. too!” He was still incredulous, and turned to look again. To his per- turbed mind everybody = seemed bent upon the imitation of an old colored woman he had once seen swaying on the banks of a creek, at a baptism. She jiggled the upper vortions of her, he.remembered, as f_she were at once atficted and tuyllfled by her emotions; and at the dancing—great same time, she shuffleq slowly about, her ~ very-wide-apart_ fe-t keeping well to the ground. But this was not "all that interested -the returned Mr. Blake. Partners in the performance below him clung to each other with a devotdon he had never seen except “HE CAN ANSWER RIGHT OFF THE MAY AND JUST TWO YEARS AGO TODAY at Jeannette, back Stuart. @great-great- grandparent, They Jeannette, and they would not have been shocked. was seen | side him, and a sculptor would have been interested. . mured; | happened to glance downward both of her hande alarm. she cried. then she *“Why. how in the world- the coal cellar. | several aprons, longing to one of the guests, a most of the coal. Copyright, 1921, Cansolidated Magazines Cor- —A Short Story by BOOTH TARKINGTON one would have to go the » Restotration of Charl « At that time she had 512 reat-great-great-great- and probably some of familiar with “he cour have misunderstood to em were would 1 just wanted to see her, Mrs. Troup shouted. to down when ‘this number is over and y partner and finish this. neet some people.” As she turned away, more of her than when she stood ! But he did not appear at the end lof the danee, nor could she find him n the gallery or in his rocm: . a little anxious, she sent a mald to innocent | look ay hm. came back and walked away in the direction of the Kkitchen. the wa'd “rd he had resen iy said that Mrs. Troup mur- “How strange her troubled eyes but as o L rent T ot Jennie, where's your apron?’ ma'am,” said Jennie; 1t e «d that il wasn't. on me, dise. was _disco He had upon him a fur overcoat be Uncle Charles rporation. All rights reserved. Evil of Divorce FEE: o 2rTH oF wgml.:“;:n":"fi'mx SHE SAT IN HIS LAP AT THE PICTURE SHOW.”» ~ O the editor: Every little wile somebody writes a letter to _paper in regards to the divorce evil and what are we goin to do to stop, it and etc. and the editor prints the letter like he sympathized with the bug .that wrote it though as a mat- ter of fact, now that they ain't no more to say about Dempsey and the greek god, why If it wasn't for the divorce evil, the newspapers would be duller reading than a letter from your wife. | Personly I don’t se no harm in-a/ good divorce and by a good divorce 1 mean one that the details of it is numercus and comickl enough to Keep 1t on the first page at lease Z ! wks., but I do think public interest | in divorce cases will die out sooner or later unlest thé partys conserned displays a little originality once in &} wile, like -for inst. they might at] lease pick out a co-respondent that | can write a 50 wd. letter without | makeing 49 mistakes in grammar. | However If divorce is a evil, like | 50 many people claims to think, why | I suppose ~they should be some method found,for wiping it out and personly I think this could be dond, easy enough if it was went at in the | right way, namely by starting some kind of a school for boys and gals that wants to get marred and make- | ing them learn the technical pts. of matrimeny and pass a rigid exam- | ination in same before they are| granted a diploma and license. The safest way of course would be to pags a law_vs. anybody marring mei H first time. but the country ain't ripe for that yet so the next best thing is the school. * ¥ % EACHERS for a school like this kind would half to be recruited from the ranks of the Benedicks and the course would half to be laid-out on gen. lines, that is on the theory that the perspective bride and groom Is going to marry an average party and not a freek. ‘When a man or lady forms an af- fectaiion for a freek they will half to work out their own salvation as you couldn't expect no teacher to learn you how to handle them with- out a personal knowledge of their {special flaws. But at lease 99 per cent of sll brides and grooms either average or just below same, so anybody that has been marred to one or more average husbande or wifes for say 5 to 10 yss. would be qualified for a instructor. Personly my other dutys would prevent me excepting a teachers po- sition and besides which I maybe might not be. eligible as my expe- rience on the mairimonial seas has not been in company with a party that could bé called &verage, and I don't mean by that that she is a freck neither, but any way if my idear for & school was took up in a serious way I would leave the teach. ing job to others, but I have stud- fed marred life amongst my friends and relatives for a great many yrs. and naturally have got some idears in regards to what every young fu- ture bride and groom should ought to know which I wlil outline them briefly for what they are worth. The first thing I would recom- mend in the course for Wusbands is a study of diet. The young man must get use to doing without food and try and cultivate a taste for substitutés such as _ealad, beans and tapioca pudding. must learn to forget that they's such a thing like farm sausage, liver and bacon. ham and eggs and pancakes He must learn to pertend like hix ideal breakfast is 3% grape fruit, 1 skinny_slice_of toast and 1_misses’ size cup of Volslead coffee. 3 Conversation—Unlest “husband wants to-indulge in a life long mon ologue he must learn to confine his conversation- to naltys.. -Many a husband has lost their home by trying to learn their wife the Mon- i ILAm' but not least. roe Doctrine. The ideal husband limits his remarks to: “I seen Mildreq today and looked terrible.” or “I seen Lt this B.M. gnd she looked terribl ~History—The hushand must schood imself to remember important dates n history o as when he is asked what; day is this, he can answer right off the reel. this is the 27 of May #nd just 2 yrs. ago today was the first time you let me hold your hand, or the first time you set in my 1ap at the picture show, or what- ever it was that happened. * x ¥ ¥ a husband should ought to know when to confide in his wife and when not to, as it is a well known fact that a woman's intuition is & whole lot more reliable than a.man's judgment and they's many & time when she is Iibel to give him a hunch that will help him in business or personal affairs. Like for inst. every wom-n in the world thought Carn ~ A win 8o “HE MUST PRETEND HIS IDEAL BREAKFAST IS ONE-HALF GRAPE- FRUIT, ONE-HALF SKINNY OF TOAST AND ONE MISSES® CUP OF VOLSTEAD COFFEE.” "NY SLICE ZE be sure and trust the wife's instinet when some important question comes up like shall T let the cat in or leavé her out. As far as future brides is concerned. they must be taught that nmature has so constituted man that they's certain times in the day when he is cross and oher times when he is in a good humor. When a Eride- has learned this she can lay her plans accordingly. The times of day when a man {8 in good humor is generally always always between 2:01 and 2:03 P.M. and the spell sometimes lasts long as five minutes. A bride Bhould also learn some entertain herself on rare oc- when’the husband don't come home. In the old days she use to be able to amuse herself guessing whether he was in a saloon or with another woman. Now days they's no fun guessing as she knows he ain't in a saloon. One form of entertainment which T have noticed moet wifes can find a great deal of harmless enjoyment in ‘same, Is moveing the liveing rm. furniture to different parts of the rm. and changeing it back and make ing up her mind It Iikes it bet- ter here or there. Even if you ahly €ot one chair they's almost no limit t0_the differsnt ways you cin pose it. These is only & few of the things that every boy and g3l should learn before they enter the holy state of matrimbny but even if they mas- tered these féw rudimunts the papers have a whole lot less.divorce to prifit and more rm, for m- terviews Wwith Edison and Bernard Shaw on what to do for gum bolls.. RING W. LARDNER. AGreat Neck, July®28. [4