Evening Star Newspaper, September 11, 1921, Page 56

F all the local gossip where- with I begufled Leon Co- ventry the night when I fought for his soul against creeping madness, the tale that best | held him was the episode of Mayme McCartney and the Weeping Scion of Wealth and Position. Indeed, he ex- Pressed interest to the point of wish- ing to recover promptly so that he might go out and drown the Scion in the fountain at the center of our square. It is just as well that he did not. Even at that early day, Mayme would not easily have for- given him. At the time when she first asserted herself as an element to be locally reckoned with Mayme McCartney was a bad little good girl. She in- spired (I trust) esteem for her good ness. But it was for her hardy and happy impudénce, her bent for in- genious mischief, her broad and cath- olic disrespect for law, conventions, proprieties and persons and the glint of the devil in her black eyes that we really loved her. Such is the per- veraity of human nature in our square. I am told that it is much the same elsewhere. She first came into public notice by giving (unsolicited) a most scan- dalous and inspiring imitation of old Mme. Tallaffer, aforetime of the southern aristocracy, in the act of rebuking her landlord, the -insectici- dal Boggs (“Boggs Kills Bugs" in his patent of nobility). for eating peanuts on his front steps. She then (earnestly solicited by a growing audience) put on impromptu sketches of the little red doctor diagnosing internal complications in a doodle- bug: of MacLachan (drunk) singing “The Cork Leg” and MacLachan (sober) repenting thereof: of Bar- tholomew Storrs offering samples of his mortuary poesy to a bereaved second cousin: and, being decked out in cotton-batting whiskers (limb of Satan!). of myself proffering sage counsel and pious admonitions to our square at large. Having concluded, she sat down on a bench and coughed. * x % % AXD the Little Red Doctor, from the shelter of a shrub, had observed with artistic appreciation rather than with delight the presen- tation of Fis little idiosyncrasies. drew nearer and looked at her Fard. For he disliked the sound of that cough. He suspected that his old friend and oppoment, Death, With whom he fought an interminable cam- paign, was mocking him from am- bush. It wasn't quite fair play. either. for the foe to use the particular weapon indicated by the cough on a mere child. With her lustrous hair loose and floating. and her small. eager, flushed face. she looked far short of.the mature and self-reliant seventeen which was the tally of her experienced years. "pl:ellfl greeted the Little Red Doc- tor. speaking with the brusque infor- mality of one assured of his place as o Jocal celebrity. “I don’t kmow you. do I Mayme lifted her eyes. “If you don’t.” she drawled, “it ain't for lack who. " 1s your hat glued on?” o 5Yod Lordr exclajmed the Little Red Doctor. indignantly. *“Do you think Tm trying to fiict with you? Why. you're a mere girl™ "o up to date” advised Mayme. “I'm old enough to be your steady. Only I'm too lucky.” i 3 “That's a bad cough you've got. said the Little Red Doctor hastily. “I've got a better one at home. Like to hear it some day?’ “Bring it over to my office and let's look at the thingt suggested the | ttle Red Doctor, smiling. M Mayme McCartney observed that ! smile, with the shvewd-judgment of men which comes y. in_self-pro- tection, to girls of her enviromment, the suspicion and impudence died out of her face, which became friendly and wistful. “D'vou think it means anything?" she asked. “Any cough.-means. something. I couldn't tell without examination. “How much?’ inquired the cautious e. M CLittle Red Doctor is a willing liar in & good cause. “No charge for first office consultation. Come over to office.” 'When the test was finished the Lit- tle Red Doctor looked professionally noncommittal. “Live with your par- ents?" he asked. No. With my aunt. avanue.” = “Where do you work? ~The Emporium,” answered the girl, naming the great and still fashion-; able Jowntown department store half a mile to the westward. “You ought to quit. As soon as possible.” S ‘And spoil my delicate digestion? “Who said anything about your di- Round in the gestion?” “I did. If I quit workin' I quit eatin’. And that's bad for me. I tried it once.” T see.” sald the Little Red Doctor, recognizing a condition by no means unprecedented in local practice. “Couldn’t you get & job in some better climate?" “Where, for instance?” “Well, it you knew any one in Cali- fornia.” “How’s the walkin'?" asked Mayme. | “It's long.” replied the Little Red! Doctor, “seeing”_again. “Anyway. | You've got to have fresh air.” ““They serve it fresh every morning. right here in our square.” Mayme! pointed out. - “Good idea. Get up early and flll your lungs full of it for an Rour every | day.” He gave some further instruc- tions. Mayme produced a dollar and deli- cately placed it on the mantel. away.” said the Little Red “Whadda said Mayme. re? Bellevue Hos- v 1 go, doc.” The Little Red Doctor frowned austerely. “What's the matter? Face hurt you?" asked the solicitous Mayme. “People don't call me doc.” began the offended practitioner in dignified ; tones. “Oh, that's because they ain’t on to you,” she assured him. *“I wouldn’t call you ‘doc’ myself if I didn't know you was a good sport back of your bluft.” *x % ‘The Little Red Doctor grinned. look: ing first at Mayme and then at th dollar. “You aren't such.a bad sport yourself,” he admitted. ‘“Well, we'll call this a deal; office practice. But if I see you in the square and give you a tip about yourself now and agaln. that doesn't count. That's on the side. Understand?” She considered it gravely. “All right,” she agreed at length. “Be- tween pals. yes? Shake, doc.” %o began the quaint friendship be- tween our hard-worked, bluff, knight- 1y hearted practitioner and the impish and lovable little store girl. Also an- other of the Innnmoru‘l. tilts be- tween him and his old friend, Death. “He's got the jump on me, Domi- nie,” complained the Little Red Doctor to me. “But, at that. we're going to give him a fight. She’s clear grit, that youngster is. She's got a philosophy too. I don't know where she got it, or just what it is, but i there. . she's worth saving. Dominie.” “If I hadn't reason to think you safeguarded, my young friend,” said I. “T'd give you solemn warning. “Why, she's an infant!” returned the Little Red Doctor scornfully. “A poor, , monkey-faced child. Besides—"" He_stopped and sighed. assented. There “Yes, I know."” Red ‘which was a Besides in the Little &ootor's sorrowful heart A bulked too large to admit of any wivalry. “Nevertheless.” 1 adde “you needn’t be so scornful about the simian type in woman. I've seen trouble caused in this world by kitten faces, by pure classic faces. by ox-eyed Juno faces, by vivid blond faces. by dreamy poetic faces, by passionate southern faces, but for real power of catastrophe, for earthquake and eclipse, for red ruin and the breaking up of laws, com- mend me to the humanized, feminized monkey face. I'll wager that when By Samuel Hopkins Adams For Mayme, Read Mar A Story of Our Square d, | common. Antony first set eyes on Cleopatra he sald: 'And which coco palm did she come down from?” the beautified baboon cast features, and as for Helen of Troy, Phryne was of of the best authorities now lean to the belief that the face that launched a thousand ships and burnt the topless THE SUNDAY; STAR, WASHINGTON, “They always do. Those cases: are Dolan ought be canned for makin’ & pinch of a lady.” “What if they do let her off? la- mented the youth. “It'll be in all the papers, and I'll be ruined. My life's u}mllai 1 might as well leave the city.” “Ah, don’t do a mean trick like that to the old town!"” besought the sar- donic Mayme. “Where do you come in to get hurt? 5 He burst into the hectic grievances of the pampered spoiled child. His family was just getting a foot- hold in society (with an almost holy emphasis on the word), and now they were disgraced. In his petulant grief he did an amazing thing; he produced a bunch of clippings from the local soclety columns setting forth, in the printed company of the Shining Ones, [ken (she had kept her tenement dom! clothes, he was pretty efough to fas- cinate any inexperienced imagin tion. But I cannot say that he look ®d pretty when, a few da: invaded our square in search of a Mayme who had vanished beyond hi clle a secret from him), and, address- ing me 'you white-whiskered old goat,"” used me of having come be- tween him and the girl upon whom he had deigned to bestow his favor. Unfortunately, for him, the Little Red Doctor chanced along it then and inquired, none too deferentially, what the scion of wealth and position was doing in that quarter. “What business is it of yours, Red- head?” countered the offended visitor. He then listened with distaste, but perforce (for what else could he do in the grasp of a mar. of twice his pow- er?), to a brilliant and convincing summary of his character, terminat- ing in a withering sketch of his per- sonal and sartorial appearance. SN towers of Illum was a reversion to the aboreal. I tell yow. mén thatAd born of woman cannot reaist it. Give little Mayme three more years——" “1_wish to heavem T could,” sahl the Little Red Doctor: - *“Can't you?" I asked, startled. it as bad as that?” . “It isn't much better. How's your insomnia, Dominie?" “Ingomnia,” sald I “is a scientific quibble for unlaid memories. 1 take mine out for the early morning air at times, iIf that's what you mean.” “ts y charitable uel Berthelin, her dluffie Mrs. Harris, and her David, re. ferred to glowingly as “the scion of the wealth and pesition of the late ¥ , BWe _was not in Mayme's independent soul. But she ‘'was interested and sympathetic. Here Wwas a career worth saving. ‘Let’s go over to the station house,” #aid she. “I know some of the cops.” To the white building with the green lanterns they went. The shop- “It is. Keep an eye on the kid.|lifting case, it appeared, had already and do what you can to that busy little mind of hers from brooding.” In that way Mayme McCartney and I became early morning friends. prevent ibeen bailed out. Furthermore, every- thing would be all right, and there ‘was little fear of publicity; the store itself would see to that. Vastly re- lieved and refreshed in spirit, David She adopted for her special own a|Berthelin began to take stock of his bench some rods from mine, under companion with growing the lilac near the fountain. her walk, taken with her shoulders flung back and the chest filling with deep, slow breaths, che would pay me a call or await one from me, and we would excbangce theories and opinions and argue about this and other worlds. Seventy against seventeen. Fair exchange, for if mine were the riper creed, hers was the more vivid and adven After !She was decidedly not pretty. thinlas decidedly she was quaint interest. Just and piquant and quite new to his jejune but also somewhat bored experience. From the opening passage of their first conversation he deduced, lacking the insight to discriminate between honest frankness and immodesty. that she was a “fly kid.” On that theory he invited her to breakfast with him. David was not a very nice boy. But turous. Who shall say which waslhe was very young and had never the sounder? * Kk K K O\' the morning of the astonishing Trespass 1 was late, being dis- couraged by a light rain. As she ap- proached her bench she found it oc- cupied by an individual who ap- peared to be playing a contributory part in the general lamentation of nature. The interloper was young, and quite exquisite of raiment, which alone would have marked him for an outlander. His elbows were propped on his knees; his fists supported his cheek bones; his whole figure was in a slump of misery. Scrutinising _him with surprise, Mayme was shocked. At the same time she heard an unmistakable and | melancholic sound. ‘The benches in our square have seen more life than most. They have cradled wéariness of body and spirit; they have assuaged grief #nd given refuge to shaking terror and been visited by Death. They have shivered to the passion of cursing men and weeping women. But never before had any of their ilk heard grown young manhood blubber. Mayme McCartney. It inspired her with mingled emotions, the most immediate of which was a desire to laugh. Accordingly she laughed. The in- truder lifted a woeful face, gave her one vague look, and reverted to his former posture. Mayme stopped laughing. She advanced and put a friendly hand on one of the humped houlders. “Cheer up, buddy,” she ::lld. “It ain’t as bad as you think 5" “It's worse,” gulped a choky voice, ‘Then the head lifted again.” *“Who are you?” it demanded. “I'm your big sister,” sald Mayme reassuringly. *Tell a feller about it.” ‘The response was neither Polllo nor explanatory. “D—n sisters!” “Oh, tutt-tutt naughty- iyme. “Some- naught . body’s sister been puttin’ somethin’ over on poor little Willfe?" “My own sister h: He was In that state of semi-hysterical exhaus- tion in which revelation of one's inti- mate troubles to the first comer seems natural. “She's gone and got arrested.” he walled. Mayme's face became grave and practical. “That's different,"— said she. “What's her lay?” *“Lay? I don’t know- “What's her line? Whi she done to get pinched?” “Shoplifting. At the special night sale of the Emporium. In the silks, “You're tellin’ me! huh?* “What do you know about it? ~M: Laord! Is it in the papers already?’ “Keep your hair on, buddy. I work there, and I heard about that pinch. Swell young married lady. Why, that'll be all right. you poor boob,” returned the kindly . ,“The {“‘i‘ will let her off with a warn- ing. Nelther had | result 3 | had much of a chance. Mayme ac- cepted. They went to Thorsen’s Elite Restaurant, on the corner, where David roused mingled awe and mis- givings in the breast of Polyglot Elsa, the cashier, by ordering champagne, and Mayme reassured her by declin- ing it * % %% HEN began an acqualutanceship which swiftly ripened into a queer sort of intimacy, more than a little disturbing to us of Our Square who were interested in Mayme. Young Berthelin's overornate road- ster appeared in our giilet precincts more often than appeared to us suitable or safe, and black-eyed Mayme, looking demure and a little exalted, known worlds, always returning, however, at respectable hours. She ceased to be the raggle-taggle, hoydenishly clad Mayme of the cash department. and, having been pro- moted to saleswoman, quite went in for dress. On this point she sought the advice of the Bonnie Lassie. e went far to justify my prophecy that Mayme's queer little face might yet make its share of trouble in an impressionable world. If Little Mayme were headed for trouble, she went to meet it with a smiling face. To me was deputed the unwelcome task of conveying the solemn and. as it were, Il protest and warning of Our Square. Of course I did it at the worst pos- sible moment. It was early one morning when Mayme, on her bench, was looking a little hollow-eyed B e onta: appross s the ght an o subject: “Well, Mayme, how ‘& the She turned to me with the old ardent swain?” flash in her big, shadowed eyes: “Did you say swain or swine, Dominle?" “‘:hn!"° said 1. “Has he changed his role?” “He—he wanted me to take a trip Boston with him. . e the Little Red r? “Docd kill him” said Mayme simply. - “What better reason for telling?" “Oh, the poor kid; he don’t know u“'])o-fl't..uho? In any ocase, I trust tter, after this, T've cut Doc were right. Doc wree right. It's no 3 kind of rme. Not for girls like me/’ “My dear,” 1 murmured, “I hope it isn't going to be too hard. 3 “He's 80 pretty,” said Mayme Me- Cartney wistfuily. S0 he was, now that I came to think of it. With his clear, dark color, hi nis almost girlishly and his Deautiful * him out,” replied I no good,- his PR I TR was whirled away to un-! g “I didn't mean the kid any harm.” back to apologize.” argued the scoin suavely. “I—I came \"If I catch you snooping around here again, I'll break every bone in your body.” the Little Red Doctor answered him. “I guess this square’s free to every- body. I guess you don't own it,” said the youth, retreating to his car. Notwithstanding the unimpeachable exactitude of this surmise, he was seen no more in that locality. Judge, then, of our dismay later, from a fel- low ‘employee of Mayme's, that she had been met at closing time by a swell young guy in a cherry rattler, who took her away to dine with him. Catechized upon the point later on by a self-appointed committee of two, consisting of the Little Red Doc- tor and myself, Mayme said vaguely that it was all right. We didn't understand. | This s, 1 believe, the a. The la: at least, was true. et About that time we. in common with the rest of the nation, took that upon our minds which was even more important than Mayme McCartney's love affair. War loomed imminently before us. It was only a question of the fitting time to strike, and our square was feverishly reckoning up its military capacity. The great day of the declaration came. The nation had drawn the sword. In the week following our square was invaded. oshba‘ dmensed upon us from -the somber sumptuousness of a gigantic limousine, the majestic, the imposing, the formidable, the authoritative Mrs. Berthelin. We knew at once who she ‘was because she led, by the ear, as it were, her hopeful progeny, young David. I do not mean that she had an actual auricular grip on him, but the effect upon his woebegone and browheaten person was the same. We hastily rallied our forces to meet her; the Little Red Doctor, the Bon- nie Lassje, and myself. Mrs. Berthe- lin opened her exordium in a tone of high philippic, not even awaiting the formalities of introduction. But I’insisted upon these, and sh. learned that the Bonnie Lassie w: 's. Cyrus Staten, she cringed. > spite a desire to keep out n‘l the Dl:- ciety columns quite as genuine as that of Mrs. Berthelin's to get in, the Cyrus Statens frequently figure l.nmo::l‘p:lh:l -!l)lllnln[ ones, a fact al- "‘A';"' ully appreciated by our ter that it was easy to get ::l!o the Bonnie Lassie's lmun.. 'h‘;:: cel‘ deloquence could not draw a wrnw . To get young David there w‘l‘l not quite so easy. He made one lo:t ‘l.l’m:g"ln:n;.l:mll successful ef- of bolting on the l:::l-e“nced sians His punishment was awaiting him. No sooner were we all settied in the Bonnie Lassie’s studio than th. r proceeded to regale us with a his tory and forqcast of his career, be- ginning with his precocious infant lispings and terminating with his projected, though wholly indefini marriage into the highest social circles. To do David justice, he squirmed. “Have you got him a job as a gen- eral in the army yet, ml'lm?'"?n- quired the Little Red Doctor suavely. It was quite lost upon Mrs. Berth lih. She informed us that a commf, ion as captain in the Quartermas: er's Department was arranged for. And what she wanted us to under- stand clearly was that no designing little guttersnipe was to be allowed to compromise David’s future. She concluded with an imaginative and unflattering estimate of Mayme McCartney's character, manners and morals, in the midst of which I heard - rr came from Mayme, standing, wide- eyed and white, in the doorway. The front door had been left ajar, and, seeing the Berthelin's mono- grammed car outside, she had come in. The oratress turned and stared. L 2 3 “That's & e, said- Mayme McCart- | Jary ney Bteadily. “T'm as straight a girl aa your own daughter. Ask him.” ! pointed to the stricken David. Wm ot be ladylike, but it D, €, can be extremely effective. David's head had dropped into his hands. “Oh, ma!” he groaned. “Don’t call me ‘ma,’ " soaded Mrs. Berthelia. “And this is the girl?’ She looked Mayme up and down. Mayme looked her up ard down. “I could give you a lorny-yette and beat you at the frosen-stare trick,” said the irrepressible Mayme. ‘The Little Red Doctor gurgled. I saw the Bonnie Lassie’s eyelids quiver, but her face was cold and im- passive as she turned “Mrs. Berthelin,” s: have made some very d: ments, before witness McCartney's character. have you?" ‘'Why. he wants to marry h the mother. to the aid she, ging state- about Miss What_proof al- ‘She's < " sald Mayme. ‘He told me himself that he was golng to marry you. “Qid he? Then he's wrong. I wouldn’'t marry him with a brass rin asserted Mayme. “You wouldn’t mar—— You wouldn't what?’ demanded the mother, outraged and Infuriated. “You heard me. He knows it too. T don't like the famlly—what I've seen of them,” observed Mayme judicially. “Besides, h David’ hamed face emerged into view. “I'm not” he gulped. “She— she made me.” “Captain!” said Mayme with a sear- ing scorn in her voice. “Quartermas- ter's Department! Safety first! When half the little fifteen-per tape snip- pers in the Emporium are breakin’ their fourteen-inch necks volunteerin’ early and often to get where the fightin’ is.” David Berthelin stood on his feet, and his pretty face had an ugly ex- pression. “Let me out of here,” he growled. 3 “David!” said his mother. “Where are you going?" “You “You can go to—' “Buddy!” Mayme's voice, magically softened, broke in. “Cut out the rough stuff. You better go home and think it over. Bein' a private is no pink- silk picnic.” Young_David addressed Mayme in the words and tone of a misunder- stood and aggrieved pet. “You think T'm no good. I'll show you, Mayme. Wait till I come back—if I ever do come back—and you'll be sorry.” “Hero stuff,” commented the Little Red Doctor. “It'll all have oozed out of his finger tips this time tomor- ow.” To"Will you show me a place to en- 1ist?" challenged the boy. “And.” he added with a malicious grin, “will you enlist with me?” “Sure!” said the Little Red Doctor. “I'll show you. But they won't take me.” He bestowed a bitter glance on his twisted foot. “Come along: They went off together, while Mrs. Berthlin scandalized Our Square by an exhibition of hysterics involving language not at all in accord with the rich rupecliabmly of her apparel 1limousine. 2 A e waitea at. the Bonnie Lassie’s for the Little Red Doctor's return. He came back alone. I thought that I detected a pathetic little gleam of ointment in Mayme's eyes. AP e done 1t,” said the Little Red Doctor. “He's off tomorrow.” And I was sorry for him, so much was there of tragic envy in his face. “Will he write”" said Mayme in a curlous, strained voice. “He will. He'll report to me from' time to time." “Didn’'t he—wasn't there any mes- sage?” “Just good-bye and geod luck.” an- swered the Little Red Doctor, censor- ing ruthlessly. The Bonnie Lassie went over and put her arms around Mayme McCart- ney. My dear,” she said softly, “it uldn't do. It really wouldn't. He isn’t worth it. You're going to for- get him.” “All right” Suddegly Mayme looked like a very helpless and sor- rowtul little girl. “Only, it—is isn't goin' to be as easy as you think. He was 50 pretty.” Summer was smiting our square with white-hot bolts of sun fire, from which one could scarcely find refuge beneath the scraggly shelter of parched shrubbery, when one morn- ing the Bonnie Lassie approached my bench with a fell and purposeful smile. “Dominie, you're a dear old thing,” she began in her most insinuating tones. “I won't do it.” T said hastily, fore- boding something serious. “Oh, but you've already done it.” “Help! Tell me the worst and get it over with.” “It must be lovely to be rich,” said the Bonnie Lassie meditatively. “And s0_generous!” “How much is it? What do you want 1t for? I haven't got that much,” I hastily remarked. “The Little Red Doctor has found the place. It's in New Mexico. And in the fall she's going on to the coast. He's almost willing to guarantee that a year of it will make her as strong as ever. And the hundred dollars a month you allow her besides her traveling expenses will be plenty. You are a good old thing, Dominie!" ‘Where did the Little Red Doctor raise it?" I queried. ‘There are times, Dominie, when your mind has real penetrative power. Think it over.” “The Weeping Scion of Wealth and Position!” I cried. “Did our medical friend blackmail him?" “Not necessarily. He only dropped 2 hint that Mayme's chance here was rather poorer than a soldier’s going to war, unless something could be done, and the Weeping Scion fairly begged to be allowed to do it. ° you think she'd take it from you, said the Little Red Doctor, ‘after what your mother called her? ‘Don't let her know. Tell her somebody else is doing it. Tell her it's from that white-whiskered ol—from the elderly gentles i JT was much easter than 1 expected it to be, especially when littl Mayme, having come out to say good- bye, put her lips close to my ear and tried to whisper something, and cried and kissed me instead. Our Square was a dinner and duller place after she left. But her letters helped. They were so exactly like herself, even at the first, when things seemed to be going 11l with her; they were all courage and quaint humor and de- termination to :get well and come k to Our Square, which was the dearest and best place in the ' world, with the dearest and best people in it. Homesickness! Poor little, lonely Mayme. She was reading—she wrote the Bonnie Lassie—all the books that the Dominle had listed for her. and she was %egnx tutored by a school * % % % teacher with blue goggles and a weak heart who fived at the resort. “Why grow up a boob?’ wrote the philosophic Mayme, “when ,nxa 1 old world is tull of e guys just al to spul thelr wiseness? 5 ntemporaneously, the = Weepl: Scion of Wealth was writing hlckpl:‘l‘ views of life and the emptiness there- of in better orthography, but with dlnlnotllI less of spirit. The Little Red tor was able to send him progressively encouraging news. When the cold weather. came Marme moved west t 0_southern fornia and found hersolf on the edge of one of the strange, tumultu- ous moving-picture colonies of that region. Thence came, presently, stir- ring tidl “fhat_do_you think?” wrote our exile. “They've got my funny little monkey mug in the movies. Five per and steady work. The director l.lru me and says he will give me a real chance one of these days. But, as the Dominie would ll,h:.hll 18 a hell P! front and a pneumatic figure calls herself Mayme or Daisye or Tootsye. Not for me! I am keeping up my lnuon: and lt“ry!lhn.a"w make my head good for some! besides carryl 2 s s0 n o :nn forgotten ggw. rnd 1 love you all 80 hard that it hurts. Your loving McCartn oY. m{ull‘ to be Marie G e R e L bl S e M s e e A AR L i A L RS S U e e e R e m'hpped the | et.’ Courtenay when I get my name up i | tor - e e e SEPTEMBER 11, 1921—PART. 4. getting_along? Poor kid! I expect' he is finding it a lot different from Broadway with money in your pock- About this time the Weeping Scion, in a muddy French sector, was finding things very different, indeed, from Broadway; but he had earned a cor- poral’s stripes and then & sergeant's. You've got to be a man to do that. Matters continued to go forward with Mayme—I beg her pardon, Mary McCartney—too. “Better and more of it she wrote the Bonnie Lassie. “They rang me in on one of their local Red Cross shows to do a monologue. Was I a hit? Say, I got more flowers than a hearse! You've to remember, though, that they del flowers by the carload out here. And the local stock company has made me-an offer. Ingenue, parts. There is not the money that I might get in the pictures, but the chance is better. So Marie Courtenay moves on to the leglt —I mean the spoken drama. Look out for me on Broadway later!” In the ‘correspondence from Sergt. Berthelin there came a long hiatus fol- lowed by a curt bit of official informa- tion: “Serieusly wounded.” The Little Red Doctop brought the news to me, with a_queer expression on his face. “It doesn’t look good, Dominie,” he sald. “I was getting to kind of like that young pup,” he added moodily. But in the end there came a scrawl from David himself. He was mending, but very slowly, and they said it would be a long time—months, perhaps—be- fore he could get back to the front. Meantime they were still picking odds and ends, chiefly metallic, out of vari- ous parts of his system. Thereafter the Little Red Doctor ex- hibited, but read to us only in small parts, " quite bulky communications from overseas. Some of them, it be- came known, he was forwasding to our little Mary, out in the far west. Came her answer: “Some of the ‘Grass and Asphalt’ sketches are wonders; some not so good. I am going to try out ‘Doggy’ if I can find a poodle with enough in- telligence to support me. But you need not have been so mysterious. Doc, about your ‘young amateur writer who seems to have some talent.’ Did you think I would not know it was David? Why, bless your dear, silly heart, how could I know him as 1 did and not recognize his hand? Besides, 1 told him some of those stories my- self. But how does he get a chance to write them? 1Is he back on this side? Or is he invalided? Or what? Tell me, I want to know about him. You do not have to worry about my— well, my infatuation for him any more. He was a pretty boy, though, wasn't he? But I have seen too many of that kind in the picture game. I'm spoiled for them. At that you were all wrong about Buddy. He was a lot decenter than you thought, only he was brought up wrong. Give hi my love as one pal to another. 1 hope he don't come back a He-ro. I'm off'n he-roes too. Excuse again® ‘Wars and exiles alike come to an end in time. And in time our two wanderers retyrned, but Mary first, David having been sent into Germany with the army of occupation. Modest announcements in the theatrical col- umns informed an indifferent theater- going world that Miss Marie Cour enay, 2n_actress new to Broadway. was to play the ingenue part in the latest comedy by a highly popular dramatist. Immediately upon the pro- duction the theatergoing world ceased to be Indifferent ‘to the new ac- tress; in fact, it went into ome of its occasional furores obtu her. Not that she was in any way a great genius, but she had a certain ind finable and winningly individual qual ity. My prediction regarding the an cestral potencies of the monkey face were being abundantly justified. No announcements, even of the most modest description. heralded the arrival of Sergt. Maj. (if you please!) David Berthelin upon his native shores. He came at once to Our ! Square and tackled the Little Red| Doctor. - “Where is she?” he asked. | 1 1 The Little Red Doctor assumed an air of incredulous surprise. “Have you still got that bee in your bon- Det?” said he. “Where is she?” Maneuvering for time and counsel. the Little Red Doctor took him to see ! the Bonnle Lassie, and they sent for me. We beheld a new and reconsti- tuted David. He was no longer pretty. The soft, brown eyes were less soft and more alert, and there were little wrinkles at their corners. He had broadened a foot or so. That pinky delicate complexion by which he had in earlier and easler days set | obvious store was brownish and | looked hardened. His manner was unaseertive. but eminently self-re- specting, and me, whom aforetime he had stiginatized as a white-whiskered | 0ld goat; he now addressed as “sir.” “Perhaps you'll tell me where she is, sir isaid he patiently. “Leavs it to me," said the Bonnle Lassie, ;who has an unquenchable thirst fér the dramatic in real life. “And keep. next Sunday night open.” ? * % % x GHE acranged with Mary McCartney to giye:a reading on that evening. at her . studio, of David's “Doggy from the “Grass and Asphalt” sketches which he had written in hos- pital It was a quaint, pathetic little conceit, the bewildered philosophy of a walf of the streets, as expressed to his waif of a dog. For the support- ing part we borrowed Willy Wolly from the House of Siivery Voices, and admirably he played it, barking accurately and with true histrioni> fervor in the right places. After the try-out Mary came over to my bench with & check for a rather dazzling sum in Rer hand, and said that now was the time to settle accounts, but she never eould repay—and so forth and so on; all put so sweetly and genuinely that I heartily wished 1 might accept the thanks if not the check. Instead of which I blurted out the truth. “Oh, Dominie!” said the girl with cuch reproach that my heart sank ‘within me. “Do you think that was fair> Don’t you know that I mevcr could have taken the money?” “Precisely. And we had to find a way to make you take it. We couldn’t have you dying on the premis 1 argued with a feeble attempt at joc- ularity. “But from him!" she said. “After what had happened! And his moth- er! How could you let me do it?” “I thought you would have gotten over that feeling by this time,” I ven- tlll:&fl there's none of the old feeling left,” ‘she answered so simply that I knew she believed her own statement. “But to have lived on his money! ‘Where is he?’ she asked abruptly. I told her that also and about Sun=| day night: the whol hing. The Bonnie Lassie would have slain me. But I couldn’t help it. I was feeling rather abject. Sunday night came. and with it Miss e , escorted by an “ace™ covered with decorations, whose name is a household word and who was only too obviously her adoring slave. Already there had been hints of their engagement. Had I been that ace, I should have felt no small dis- composure at the sight of the girl's face when she first saw the changed and, matured Weeping Scion of threc years before. David, after greeting the star of the evening, took a modest rear seat as befitted his rank. But when the announced “Dogg: that was the study. z Of that performance I shall say rothing. It i8 now femous and fa- miliar to thousands of theatergoers Fut If ever mortal man spent twenty minutes in fairyland it was David while Mary was playing the work of his fancy. At the close he disap- eared. 1 suppose he did not dare trust himself to join in the congrat- ulations with which she was over- I found him, as J rather of & place. (Graceless !) I would |expected, on_the bench where he had not say it myself, because I am very |sat when Mayme McCartney first careful of my speech and uct. | found him. And when the crowd had Perfect-lady st You have to be |departed from the studio I told the out here. hn reminds me, I have ‘Without even to put on cut out the Mayme. Every fresh little | her hat she went out to him. frissle in the colony with & false| e was s with his elbows on fists supporting his 'k ho not weeping, as ot old, she humped shoulder. Startled, he looked ! up and jumped to his feet. She was hold! something out to him. "W‘:a‘t'l that?” he said. “A check. For what I owe you.” “‘Who told 1._11:. Little s told -.M» he sald slowly, *“Tve). “Oh, 1 | objects ot art of Red Doc- |& kept his promise. The Dominie '.'-llfll got to take this. You course you woudn’t.” tried to keep wouldn't—no, of He sighed. strict account,” she lopted a matter-of-fact n't deny that it'll come in handy just now,” he remarked. “At the present price of clothing, and with my personal exchequer in its de- pleted state——" as anything Your mother——?" “She’s cut you off? On my account? ‘No. I've cut her off. Temporarily. She doesn’'t want me to work. I'm working. On a newspaper.” “That's good,” said the girl warmly. “Let's sit down. They sat down. Each, however, found it curiously hard to begin again. Finally David did make a be- ginning. “Mayme.” “No: not Mayme any more. He flushed to his temple: your pardon, Miss Courtena: “Nonsense!” she said softly. “Mary. I've discarded the Mayme long ago.” “Mary,” he repeated in a tone of musing content. | “You're a queer buddy,” returned the girl, not quite steadily. “Did you bring me home & German helmet for a souvenir?” “I didn’t bring home much of any- thing, except some experience and the discovery of the fact that when I had to stand on my own feet 1 wasn't much.” “You got your stripes, didn't you?” suggested the girl. “That's all 1 did get,” he returned jealously. “I didn’t get any medal or | Famous Art 1 beg palms_or decorations or crosses of ! war; I didn't get anything except an occasional calling -down and & few scratches. If I'd had the luck 10 get into aviation or some of the fancy branches—" David checked hin.- self. “There I go.” he said in self- disgust. “Beefing again.” *x x ¥ ¥ X was quite in the old. spoiled-child tone; an echo of indestructible per- sonality, the Weeping Scion of other days; and it went straight to Mary’'s swelling, bewildered, groping heart. She began to laugh, and a sob tangled itself in the laughter, and she choked and said: “Buddy He turned toward her. “Don’t be dumb, buddy.” she said in the words of their unforgotten first talk. “You've—you've got me—if you still want me.” She put out a tremulous hand to him, and it slipped over his shoulder and around his neck, and she was drawn close into his arms. “The Little Red Doctor.” remarked David after an interlude, in t shaken tone of one who has had undeserved miracles thrust upon him, “wrote me that to want something more than anything in the world and not get it was good for my soul. be- sides serving me right.” “The Little Red Doctor.” Mary McCartney with the rec retorted less in- gratitude of a woman in love, “is a | dear little red idiot. What does he know about * (Copyright. 1921.) Collection Has a Beautiful Home ELIZABETH RICHARDS LANKED by the Smithsonian Institution on the one side and the Department of Agriculture | on the other, the new Freer Art Gallery, a simple one-story structure with an ample high basement and open central court, will be opened soon in Washington. Within a few months thiz million- dollar Lorenzo-Florentine building will contain the most representative assemblage of art masterpieces in this country or any other. The mu- seum is a gift and the most unique and restrictive bequest the nation has ever received from onme of its citi- zens. The donor of this extraordinary gift, Charles Lang Freer, began his life in the Catskills, sixty-five years ago, and there, over a year -ago, those who loved-him best laid him to rest. If he had lived a short time longer he would have seen the result which justified his outlay of time and money. Mr. Freer's success in business and in art was simply the logical result of seeing and seizing. While living in} one room and cooking his meals over an oil stove he climbed from the post of timekeeper to director of the Eel: River railroad, a short line of only| thirty miles of track, sixteen freight and six passenger cars and two loco- motives. When the road was sold Mr.. Freer and his friend, Frank Jo- seph Hecker, since Panama canal com-, missioner, pooled their frugal savings, a few thousand dollars, went to De- troit and started in a small way the Peninsular Car Company. the first] car works in the west. In 1900 they sold out to a trust company for a vast sum. During the next twenty years Freer devoted himself to unwearied searching in all lands, but particular- ly in the far east and near east, for the highest quality periods of high DAVIDSON. and widely separated civilization. His efforts were abundantly re- warded. He always came back laden with wonderful specimens from old temples, palaces and tombs and treas- ure chests—marvellous glass out of Egypt, fictile productions from hith- erto unknown sources, strange in- cised potteries from Babylon and Nin- eveh; potteries from Korea, with their peculiar slip and inlay decora- tions, and Chinese porcelains and tex- tiles in all reigns from 1766 B.C. to 1776 A.D. . * % % X 1\‘ R. FREER was the pioneer col- lector of Chinese and Japanese art. He reveled in their craftsman- ship, whether of painting, print or pottery. To this vast assemblage of Asiatic art he added specimens from the works of eleven modern Ameri- can artists, giving as his reason that he found in them the same feeling for the beautiful inherent in the works of ancient orienta] art that he had; assembled. Those who were in his confidence were well aware that he had dedicated himself to turning the major portion of his great wealth into objects of beauty and use for the en- joyment and education of the people of his own country. ‘The enormous Xledl;d ?roper:fr:l';e Freer gatherings an r. Free! - idly fiying years admonished him that he must make some prompt, definite and wortty disposition of his joy work. In January, 1904, he-made his first and tentative approach to the regents of the Smithsonian Institu- tion, outlining the extent of his col- lection and unfolding his object. Not until January, 1905. was a com- mittee sent from the institution to appraise his collection. They Tecog- nized the great value of his immense and unusual collection, and 8o re- ported. Some legal hitches required the intervention of President Roose- velt and Chief Justice Fuller. In 1908 Mr. Freer revised his former offer, satisfied every legal technicality and agreed to a fictitious sale which ena- bled the regents, without further question_or delay, to accept the be- quest. For the sum of $1, and “other valuable considerations paid to him in hand,” Mr. Freer conveyed his col- lection to the nation “forever.” Those who have had the privilege of seeing Mr. Freer's wonderful exam- ples of oriental and modern art mas- terpleces in his Detroit home and those he lent to museums, expositions and world fairs bear witness to the collection’s unique value and rejoice that Mr. Freer's intelligent generosity prompted him to present his monu- mental eollec:lon to the nation in its rety and forever. en%hllti Mr. Freer bound himself to provide a suitable building to house his collection, he stipulated that the structure should be mnear the Na- tio! Museum, that the interior should be arranged with special re- gard for the convenience of students and others desirous of an oppor- tunity for uninterrupted study, that there were to be no additions to nor deductions from the collection and nothing else ever exhibited with it in the bulilding, that the collec- tion should never be removed from the building except for repairs and renovations, that no charge should le for admission or for the pi of examining or study- ing the collections, that the museum should bear his name in some madest and appropriate form, that he shbuld continue his censorship and that the collection should remain in his pos- session during his lifetime. * ¥ * % I‘l‘ is now only a matter of transpor- tation when his dream will be In full realisation and operation, defi- nitely in the possession of the United States for the benefit of the untech- nical observer, and making its ap- peal to the esthetic instincts of the American people. To the more than 6,000 objects, ar- abllity, and comprehensive art library for the use of students. His custom, bor- rowed from the orientals, of exhibit- ing only a few of his treasures at SCS it L relationship exifting ancient oriental and mo terpieces can now be demonstrated his disc tions from the work. Homer, John Singer Sargent. J Melchers, Thomas Wilmer Abbot Handerson Thayer. i teh tler. ex- William Tryon, John Henry Twa: man and James MeNeill - Wh required to With all obeisance to ten of these artists, the thrill of the gallery is the Whistler collection. Mr. Freer was the first American collector 1o begin to gather the works of this famous artist. His 1200 Whistler specimens require three large galleries, besides special and separate space for the world-wide mous peacock room. When this famous peacock room was thrown on the market Mr. Freer was the ready and quick purchaser. The entire contents, inside woodwork and decora- tions were transported to his home in Detroit and reconstructed precisely as they stood in the Leland House in Lon- don, and the entire contents are again reconstructed in the gallery exactly as they stood in the annex Mr. Freer built especially for them in Detroit. * % % ¥ “THE history of this room really be- gins with the rose and silver pic- ture—"'La Princess du Pays de la P celaine.” It was Rosetti who suggested to Whistler that Christine Spartali, afterward Countess de Cohen, and sis- ter of his model, Mrs. Stillman, beiter known as Marie Spartali, would be the exact model for his proposed princess It was also Rosetti who negotiated the sale of the picture o a collector, frov whom it was purchased by Frederick Leland for 420 guineas. A ye: Whistler’s death Mr. Freer pa guineas for the lovely princess. as she is in a Madame Bu clothes, she is far from looking the part of the Madame Butterfly of opera fame Only her beautiful “clothes” and th setting are Japanese. The entire colw scheme and setting were inspired by « Japanese screen and robe in Whistler's possession—and with these gorgeous “‘properties” and the pretty Greek girl he made an arresting and unforgettable picture. When Mr. Leland bought the house in Princes Gate he made many radical alterations in its construction and de rations. The dining room was mad: Over over according 1o the taste of a Mr Jeckyll—and the princess was 10 be the glory ard pride of the room. Whe Whistler, who had designed the sid: rd, saw the result ne convinced M: Leland of its monstrous incongruity inconsistency to und Jeckyll's work and make a setting him- self worthy of the princess. Poor Jeckyll, ovemeome by d pointment and humiliation, lost his mind and died in a_madhouse. Mr Leland retired and Whistler had full sway He openly declared that he was going to cover up the Spanish leather and make the one perfect mural decoration of modern times. He held daily receptions. Acquaintance: and worshiping admirers came to his dream unfold. Working out his amazing s. born of his amazing brain. in to preserve the continuous theme- lines he closed the shutters and swept across them at white heat spe. the middle shutter he paint peacocks with their feathers fly toward the top, one peacock each of the two flanking shutters All‘the work was well advanced and he was about to undertake the deco- ration of the wall opposite the mah- tel and the princess, when he sent Mr. Leland a bill which doubled the amount originally agreed upon for his work. Mr. Leland refused to pay the account as rendered, but sent Whistler £1,000 instead of the 2,000 guineas he demanded. * x % % WB]STLER liked jam on his bread, but he was artist first. He asked to be permitted to finish the room. His request was granted and his revenge was the two frenzied peacocks, one with feathers splaying perpendicularly, clutching at a piis of gold coin, head stretched to the utmost height and glaring at the other, whose feathers sweep horizon- tally, with head as high, glaring back in righteous indignation and defiance ‘The witty, waspy Whistler gave them symbolic names, “Art” and “Money." which will forever cling 10 them. There will always be great argu- ment as to which of Whistler's works —or which one of his mediums—wili perpetuate his fame. Standards are but condensed opinions, and time brings about versals, but it will always be con .ceded that Whistler was the great- est master of his time. The new Freer Art Gallery is his shrine in America. Thousands and thousands will make the pilgrimage and stand without sandals in presence of his works merely feast their eyes. Those who know Wkistler only as i~ as Michaelangelo's Holy will now have, without thout price.” the op- portunity and privilegd of widening their knowledge of the art of this versatile master. ‘The new Freer Art Gallery is not only Whistler's shrine; it is a monu- ment to the memory of a great and discriminating collector and bene- factor whose passion was not pos- session, but pursuit and dlscove:y, and the satisfaction of passing de- light and instruction on to others 1o ‘whom fortune is less kind. e A Bacteria Census. NOT long ago there was made known the result of an exami- nation made by one of the govern- ment scientists of the colonies of bacteria residing on the surface of unwashed fruit taken from the mar- kets. This scientist computed the number of bacteria found on half a pound of each of the fruits named. as fol- lows: Huckleberries, 400.000; dam. ears, 800,0 gooseberries, 1.000,006; £ len s r-b.%l;rlu. :moo.ow.-’n‘- les, grapes, ,000,¢ grapes, 8,000,000; cu: 11,000,000, cherries, 12,000,000. - © R