New Britain Herald Newspaper, August 26, 1921, Page 4

{ HOLDING A HUSBAND | Adele Garrison’ 8 Ne“.r Phase of Revelations of a Wite The Way Dicky Greeted Grace Dray Draper and Masked 1is Chagrin. "Hush, Dicky e’ll hea Dicky abrt stopped grieved mu ov s chansed hat and wa she caught sight of us. to the girl w hand thought t in courtesy ind we to her side. She had her her bag in the other and Dicky took them from her in fashion as it had been a frequent week- nd guest. 1 retiected that I ircumstances of last meetin; and p d 1 dered if there were in s mind a remembrance of that time. No need s Grace Draper remembered She could control her face and her but there an expression eyes as shé glanced quickl Di. and then as quickly away in, told me she had forgotten no s est incident their acquaintanc “Hello, Grace!" 1s it my fancy, or did Dicky ¢ avoid anything but the most cas “How was the trip—warm 0, thank you, pleasant,” she responded in as carefully indiffer- ent a tone, taking my outstretched hand in a firm grasp. An Odd Experience. “Thank you for letting me come, Madge she said simply, and it 1 ever heard gratitude and sorrowfui remorse for the past in any human being’s v I heard it in hers. It I had wished I could not have helped giving her answer in keeping with her greeting. “I am glad to have turned: “Come this swWay is Tight over here I drove rapidly to the inn of which Dicky had spoken, with her by my side and Dicky with the lug the tonneau. It was one of the experiences of my life, and I myself speculating upon the processes of the girl. There the slightest remnant of the spa ooquetry which had made he luring in the old da She simply dignity itself to Dic ch ingly friendly to me, with correct touch of humility. Was she truly repentant, or was she playing a dufficult part extremely well? Oh, what a wonderfully place! I think the exclamation burst simul- taneously from both Grace Draper and myself, as T turned a sharp cor- ner under Dicky’s directions and dre up in front of a rustic archway. twined with climbing rose bushes cov- ered with buds. 10lin appearance ved a Dra lifted his waved h common led swittly greet to is 1lso se 1 ke neve to ev s ase in one hana s casual did not know th2 the riing, a w Dicky to ask voice was in ca ial glances. very vou,” 1 The re- ca dde found mental not klin al- was rm- just the was so pretty ! also, although his reaction to it took “I thought it would hit you between Mac Dicky said com- d for a long minute we es upon the in a grove iacently, sted ou mbling - of won- ees. one can sighed Madge’s rest here!” Grace Drape Question. “That's ri Dic eagerly. st and in work.’ sed, and I rpened wits h then from man- vou be embar pe pick up a bit 1 He w think ¢ fore T £ *s st the trul caught his ‘I suppose I'm too thin, an nged,” she said with tempt at a smile. “Rot!"” Dic thought too he 1 anticipated her q look tired, of course, but that only be a matter of a few days. can’'t possibly begin work for over a week yet. Then we'll talk thing: ver.' | “Very well.” The words were quiet | snough, but there was a world of dis- ppointed mortification in her voice. I knew she must have rcalized, perhaps for the first time, that not only h eXquisite beauty but her power over Dick s gone, and he knowledge nust have been misery itself to her. r voice haunted me as we drove and I knew it troubled Dicky —and— lant ar- rejoined promptly. It sharply, 1| And I | the form of irritated crititism. | Why she’s positively haggard!” he | ploded, as we drove away. “She| won't do at all. Of course, she still is lissome, and she’d be graceful even ‘ranking a fliver, and I think rest and zood food will bring back her lines in . wéek or two. But her face! It's hard as nails, all the youth and ex- pression gone out of it. What the devil am I going to do? 4 I made no reply, knowing from long | perience that Dicky wished none hen he was fighting something out with himself. “I've got it!” he exclaimed after a minute’s silence. “Didn't I tell you Miss Foster's profile was like Grace's. She doesn’t know how to pose, but I can use her for the flsh curves of he face, and then with Grace for the postures I can do. I say, old dear > it for me, will you? Ask Miss and, yes—of course you'll have ude ‘Sawbones’ to dinner out here to meet Gracie. Then we'll fix it up.” I cculd not foster one astonished estion “But do you think Miss Foster wili consent to pose?” “T'll bet you anything vou like that she will.”” Dicky said, confidently. qu Unless otherwise noted, these b bureaus of the theater or atf: AT FOX'S THEATER. “Over the Hill,” the William Fox | picturization oz Will Carleton’s “Farm Balla, which has broken the best record of any screen attraction that ever visited Broadway, and is still | playing to crowded houses in that city, ¥ will shortly be scen upon the local | screen. Management of the Fox thes ter has been fortunate enough to land | this great attraction for an early showils The story of “Over the Hill,"” was adapted ,from Carleton's poems by | Paul 1i. Sloane, who is said to have | written a screen sto: that defies | eritici in this form of entertain- ment. The story has to do with the adversities of a typical American fam- ily, the mother of which lled upon to beur the brunt of all the shor comings of her little flock AT THE LYCEUM The story of the play treats of the conversion of Parker by the messenge. from Mars through the latter’s taking him out into the streets of the city o: London at night and showing him the wealth of the great metropolis in con trast to the destitution and poverty of the East End. So ektensively does the messenger from Mars enter into the story of the pl that the scenes in which he appeared with Mr. Lytell, the star, occasioned the taking of over 30u double exposures. The vaudeville gram is headed by Little Miss a classical revue of singing ing. O'Burrell and Cur elty act. This is the only act that is in vaudeville Roberts and Ardo complete ville program ver nov kind of an Robert ana the vaude ANOTHER FINE BILL AT PALACE The Pal is now offering for th balance of the week, another excellent bill that equs if not betters, the one of the first t da The Keitl vaudeville offers four ver od acts with Fred ‘‘Broomstick’” Elliot, the wise cracker, back again and funnier ree Dircet From Broadway 1 HARRY FOX BEATRICE CURT HARRY DeCOSTA Popular Composer, Accompanist. Marguerita Padula Morton Jewell & Co. Adams and Thompson Sisters BRYANT WASHBURN s “The Sins of St. Anthony” The otices are written by the press ractions with which they deal. than ever. Fred plays a broomstick fiddie and a mandolin in a way all his own and certainly hands out a laugh a minute while he holds the stage with his twenty minutes of fun.. The Great Johnson offers a fine novelty offering that is both sensational and daring; Shapire and Jordan, two clever girlies, present an excellent singing and piano offering; and Oakes and De Lour Co. are well liked with their excellent nov- elty song and dance numbers. The act is beautifully staged with something new in the scenic effects that is very pleasing. The feature photoplay offer: popular Charlie Ray in his latest, ““Scrap Iron,”” a story of the fighting ring and in which he surprises his fans by showing that he sure can put on the gloves and box, CAPITOL. Hary Fox has always been a fav- | orite, and now thii headliner par ex- ellence returns to vaudevilla after after succesa in music- in pictures. Where- ever vaudeville is liked, so is Harry, ind in his homecoming jollification at the Capitol this symbol of levity 1ssisted by Beatrice Curtis, one of a prettiest women on tho American stage. A pretty little romance is unfolded inst a jazz kground in ‘“‘The ‘ins of St. Anthony,” a picture from Saturda ening Post story with iryant Washburn in the role of a soung scientist who is rejected by his flancee because he hasn't a bit of society pep. He stars along the prim- se path, aided by a pretty da rom a girly show, and the result unexpected as they are amusing. scoring succ al comedy and is i B"' 2 I EATRE 4 NOW PLAYING BERT LYTELL —IN— MESSAGE FROM MARS —VAUDEVILLE— BERT GREEN IN NOVELTY ACROBATIC ACT ROBERTS and ROBERTS Celebrated Musicians O’BURRFELL and CURTISS The World's Fastest Dressmaker WINNING MISS Singing—Dancing Act 8 — People lovw, | il | | dience. (Cop | >ntinued from Yesterday's Herald.) Jimmy Gordon, sheep and villa; home after se the family bla ne'r do well, comes eral months’ absence 1d received a cool welcome. The only pleasant greetings he gets arc from “Melody’” a not too respectable actress, and a dog owned by the local saloon keeper. Jimmy is stepson ot the Rev. Watson Duncan. Rev. Dun-~ can however, ignores Jimmy but goes to the station with T. Elihu Banks the banker and village magnate, who is a brother to Duncan's wife, making him an uncle to Jimmy, where the pair meet Sidney Banks, Elihu's son, as the latter alights from the train, “‘gorgeous in fine rainment and leadi bull terrior b leash.” Jimmy recognized Evelyn's laugh. He caught fragments of conversation rom the Latham piazza. They were ussings a theatrical representation which the “younger set” were to give soon for some charitable purpose. Then he heard Evelyn say: “There another thing about which I have been uncertain. I've been wondering—but I know you can advise me what to do. Don’t you think that we should ask your cousin —DMr. Gordon, isn’t it?—to help us, too The first choking exclamation with which Sidney greeted the preposter- ous proposition was inaudible. Jimmy heard his breathless “What?” And he marveled at the girl's naive com- posure before a monosylable so ex- plosively eloquent. “Then you don’t think it necessary. I wasn't. quite sure. It's a church charity, you know—and out of def- erence to Mr. Duncan—" “Necessary! You haven't spoken to the Rev. Watson about it, have you?" ked Sidney. Miss Latham’s reply was brief and chill. Sidney tried hard to master his mirth. “Then don’t, my dear,” he chuckled. “Take the advice of a member of the family and don't!” Presently the front door opened and slammed to again and he heard his stepfather storming below. “I tell you, madam, that this is the end! I have endured his sullen ob- stinacy, his vagabondage, his love for loose associates, with all the Christian fortitude of which I am capable, be- cause he is your son. But there is a limit at which “ven my forbearance must cease, and that limit has been reached today!™ Delayed momentarily by the very volume of her husband’s tirade, Mrs. Duncan’s usual hysteria was overdue, when Jimmy stepped into the room. “You'd better go to your room, mothe he said, “‘before your head- ache grows worse.” For the infinitesimal part of a second she was incapable of motion. Then she turned and left the room, too astounded by a note of compas- sion in her son’s voice and a kind of apologetic authority in his manner to wonder at the strangeness of her obe- Jimmy followed her across is An abscrbing story of a * 0 with the aid of the woman who loved and trusted. ight 1917, by the H. F. Fly Co. .until after I was gone' “HIS OWN HOME TOWN” By Larry Evans. ‘no-good” who made good and Metropolitan Magazine Co.) rthe threshold : And the Rev. Watson unc n was left standing alone, with his mouth inelegantly open. He had hardly begun to recover from the shock when Jimmy reached the back door. From that point, however, his recovery was practically instantan- cous. He leaped to follow; he tore open the door which the boy had closed quietly behind him. And his forefinger, playful no longer, shook jerkily at his stepson's back, already disappearing down a beaten path which led away through an orchard behind the house. “If you go now, to confort with that creature of the ourlesque,” he shrilled, “you go to stay! Do you hecar me?” Jimmy Gordon went steadily on, without a backward look. He trav- ersed the orchard, negotiated a crazy barbed-wire fence without damage to his blue serge and crossed a decidedly discouraged garden plot. He round- ed the corner of a dingy house which fronted an unpaved, back street and stopped before an open door. Beyond the door, back toward him, stood a slender bronze-haired girl in a mad little costume of black, a slender fisure which would have been unrecognizable had it not been for the familiar tilt of her head. The girl's head tilted to the other side as she spread the folds of the absurd skirt, pre-eningly, then nodded with manifest satisfaction: whereupon she laughed softly, hummed a meas- ure as mad as the costume itself and tripped a dainty step or two, with the grace of a wild thing. This movement made room for the boy’s reflection in the glass, and she cncountered it there. She stiffened. Her eyes grew wide and shining. She stared at it, and turned and stared at him. Then she flew to him, and flashed both arms about his neck. “Jimmy!” she cried. “Jimmy! And was afraid you mightn't get back I was be- ginning to think you weren't coming back at all.” Assuredly there was a welcome here. The girl's immature body quiv- ered her gladness, but the boy's face exhibited little emotion save vague curiosity and a certain distaste for the fuss she was making over him. He unwound her arms and stood her away from him; she submitted to his scrutiny with a matter-of-fact desire for his approval untinged by self- consciousness; and at length he nod- ded his head. The costume spoke for itself. “I *hought for a moment—just for a moment—that they had asked you to take part,” he said. ‘“Then you're —egoing ?” “I had to,” she answered. *I had to. IUs better than waiting for a chance that might never come. Don't I look pretty?” The boy entered the room heavily I into a chair beside a red plush cov- cred table. For a time he sat gaz- {ing vacantly before him, his chin SLE EPY =TI ME TALES “CTradamerk Registered> BY ARTHUR SCOTT“ BAILEY: SPOT GOES TO TOWN. The boys had to step lively that morning, for Farmer Green’s family didn't want to be late for the circus parade in the village. There were many other teams on the road, and almost nobody to be seen working in the fields. It seemed to Johnnie Green as if everybody had made up his mind to go to the cir- | | 2a “I don't want to stop to fight this fellow' ke thought. cus. The only thing that troubled him was that his father didn’t drive fast enough to suit him. Half way from the farm to village Farmer Green stopped bays at a vatering trough. jumped out of the carryall check them, so they the the Johnnie to u could drink. And there. beneath the carriage was old dog Spot! “Spot's Green cried The old dog whisked out from be- tween the wheels and frolicked about Johnnie. He didn't act at all guilty. “Well, T never! d Farmer Green. “I certainly shut the barn door after I shoved him inside.” “Spot gave a few short, sharp barks. as if to say, “Yes! But you forgot the | window that was open ™ He had scrambled through the window and overtaken the carryall before it reached the gristmill ‘Well, what could Farmer Green do? They had come too far to send Spot back home. “We'll have to take him with us d Johnnie Green's father, followed us!" Johnnie “thougn ne’ll be a nuisance because the village will be crowded today.” drink the party started on again. And old dog Spot was content. He did carriage. the more they pleased him; get to town and see the crowds the fun. farmhouse and tried to reach him. That made Spot somewhat uneasy. “I don't want to stop to fight this fellow,” he thought. “If I do, I'll be left behind.” Luckily Farmer Green cut at the strange dog with his whip and bade him be off. Spot grinned as he sneaked away, yelping. At last they entered the Main street was thronged with people. Carriages and wagons of all sorts lined the road on both sides—glisten- ing buggies with red ribbons tied in bows about the whip stocks, old lumber wagons with chairs set behind the driver’s seat. gathering—not even at the fair. The whole county’s here!” he ex- claimed. “I hope we'll find a good rlace to stop, where we can see the parade.” They the bay did. Farmer Green backed into the last open space in relieved. The crowd made such a roar, with its talking and laughter, that old Spot cowered down under the carryall and almost wished he had stayed at home. The cries of men selling peanuts and popcorn, squawkers and toy balloons mingled with the shouts of small boy: and the squeals of theif si Goodness,” Spot murmured a racket! It hurts my ears. A moment late out from bencath the carriage burst into a mournful howl “Keep still!” Farmer Green dered Little did he know, then, made Spot cry like that. But in a minute or two Johnnie Green hear: the same thing that Spot’s |ears hat caught first how t0o. ai: the band!" he shouted. “Ilur- rah! The parade’s coming! and or- t 1921 by The Metropolitan Newspaper Service). Tomorrow: Elephant els and Clowns—Old Do Ther All! (Copyrig crossed on lagging feet and dropped | !in his hands, oblivious to the grow- | As soon as the bays had had their not mind the dust that the bays’ heels kicked up as he followed beneath the | And the faster they trotted, for he {to come back in a week, after he was as anxious as Johnnie Green to |had a chance to read the stuff over.” and | Once a surly dog ran out from a village. Johnnie Green had never seen such the gutter. And Johnnie was greaflyl he stuck his nose | what | sharp | And Johnnie ing distress in the girl's eyes. “Chorus?” he asked then, stractedly. She nodded. Her voice had become infinitely small and wistful. “ The Satin Slipper.’ We play here the beginning of nex; week—we're rehearsing now—and then a month or so on the road, and then into New 4 You're glad, aren’t you?" But her tone belied the statement; her er .ittle face gave it the lie. And the next instant she had darted across the room and dropped to her knees, and buried her head in his lap. “Jimmy!—Jimmy!” she .sobbed. “Oh, I don’t want to leave you here alone. Are you going to stay?” “T dom’'t know,” he answered vaguely. “But you couldn’t stand alone,” she repeated with “You couldn't stasmd it! can’t you come?” “I don’t know.’ “Im a pig!" she accused herself, candidly. “You're tired; you're hun- gry—that’s what's the matter with you. And I've still an hour almost before I have to go; I'm going to get you something to eat. And you'd | better wash your face, Jimmy. It's pretty smudgy—in spots.” The Warchester Daily Gazette (pithily termed the “town crier and criterion” in its own advertising mat- ter) was not the only purveyor of divorce and disaster o¥ which the city could not boast, though it fretted it- self but little over the presence of a competitor in the field. Indeed, from Mr. Latham, the proprietor of the Gazette, and Wainwright, the city editor, down, they were all exceed ingly grateful for the other dail existence. Every canvas needs its frame; and while, if put to it, doubtless every member of the Gazette staff would have admitted that the Gazette was a superior product of modern, up- | to-the-minute journalistic —methods worthy of comparison with any sheet | in the country, it was still very sat- istying to turn now and then, to contrast it with the Daily Courler, its alleged competitor, owned and man- aged by impecunious and old-fash- ioned David Landis, father of the brenze-haired girl who had given Jimmy Gordon such a warm welcome. “Old Dave” Landis had grown old in achieving failure. Carol Landis, his daughter, was the one thing close- ly identified with his own existence, which did not seem to appeal, mute- ly or otherwise, for commiseration. The unpainted house on the back street had grown to look like its owner; it was sadly down at the heel. But Carol resembled him not at all Hers was a more vivid personality; she was alive to her finger-tips—as alive as he was dreamy and absent- minded. Hungry to act on the stage, she proved herself daily a consum- mate artist! she treated him like the veriest Apostle of Success. And his air toward her was so beautiful a mixture of courtly deference and apologetic humility that, oftener than not, it brought desperate hot tears to her eyes—tears which she mnever dared to let him see, lest they mar the entire performance. And she played the same game with Jimmy Gordon; played it more skilfully, if anything, for Jimmy's eyes were sharper. That Sunday aft- ernoon she left him alone in the front room as if nothing at all was ‘amiss. Her going was followed im- mediately by a most cheerfully ener- getic shaking of a gr {roise the boy gave no heed, but later !he did raise his head and sniff at the penetrating odor of coffee. And |he had finished cleansing his hands and face before she spread a frayed napkin upon the kitchen table and placed plate and cup upon it, and sang out for him to come. He showed a faint interest in her mad little costume, and she, waiting for an opportunity to make conver- sation, seized avidly upon the ques- tion in his eyes. “The wardrobe woman had more work than she could do plained, “so they let me bring mine {home to fit it myself. It was too big |around the wa Did you—did you try to get to anybody with your play?” |she hesitated. | “A few hundred, I think,” he sald, | with a feeble attempt at humor. “I {lost count after the first days. I tried |all the little ones first, and never {got past the office boy. And then I tried Harding—and he saw me. He gave me a half-hour, and told me ab- it here, a gasp. Can’'t you— At that she leaned forward, her | hands going impulsively to his knees. ot Harding!” she breathed. ‘When all the rest refused you?” Be- fore the glow in her eyes he did his best to maintain a manner of indif- ference. “He read the play, and of- PALAC NOW PLAYING ANOTHER FINE BILL CHARLES RAY “SCRAP IRON” See the Fight! —KEITH VAUDEVILLE— FRED ELLIOTT, The Nut and His Broomstick. “He's a Wise Cracker.” YE AR SHOPPE A Classy Offering. OTHERS. No poet ever revealed a keener knowledge of the inner workings of the hearts and minds of just plain men and women than did Will Carieton, two of whose poems have been made into a screen drama of surpassing power and beauty, known as “Over the ILIL” William Fox produced the pic- ture and it opens an enzage- ment at FOX’S Beginning Saturday, Sept. 3 |She ran from the fered fo buy the first act climax (Her gasp checked him momentar- ily.) “The rest was rubbish, he said. But he advised me not to sell. He said time might cure me of the be- setting sin of all playwrights—some day I wouldn't be so young and tragic—if I didn't starve to death.” you're not soing to?” she asked quickly. Sell or rve? 1 took and refused his offer. But the second possibility doesn’t seem so remote, at |sou that, just at present.” “You've had trouble home, she accused him. than usual “Worse than usual,” “Over me?” He protested too volubly, so that even his detailed account of the dog fight, meant to be gay and inco quential, failed to deccive her. “I know she insisted, with calm stubbornness that he had herited from her father. t's a quarter to eight he sa “We'd better be starting down. That statement proved effectual. | room and came the ankles an “Politics,” replied Jimmy suceinct- “There's something doing; theyTe ng up for r election She chattered so continuously & the v Luk churcn bef. te couple or two, service, or two Iy scur, e pair went 2 y. queer g hey And s his advice gain at he admitted. never able t ith emember that ful back wrapped to old coat. “I was waiting for father,” she|warm f said. Je's so very prompt usually. He insisted on convoying me to and from the theater whenever I have to | go after dark, though it's absurd of | him to think I need an escort. when T'll soon have to look after myself | without any help at ali. I think because he's already lonely. Som times I think I can’t go, only I know my staying now would be even harder for him to bear. I wonder why T. hu wants to see him?” in he returned the (Cc ¢ s Heral ‘CASTORIA For Infants and Children In Use For Over 30 Years 789 Always bears i the E ; Signature of LooK on the Soles for the Regular Price! No guessing about the OF THIS Season’s Finest For Women At 3 Smashing Reductions! %8 Vals2 225 Ul This sale is such an overwhelming success because it is svery woman’s idea of what a sale should be, a sale in which she knows to the penny what her saving is. ' And that is what you will like about this sale. Furthermore, you can choose from thousands of pairs. You will find precisely the style you want in the leather you want IN YOUR SIZE. And they are all zenuine NEWARK shoes—the same that we have been selling all season at much higher prices. Come tomorrow and avail your- self of these wonderful bargains before they are all taken! Women’s $3.50 White Canvas Oxfords While they last—hundreds of pairs of smart, attractive NEWARK White Canvas Pumps and Oxfords that have g been $3.50 right along—$2.39. Strap and plain models, Big Selection! All Sizes! Newark Shoes for Men and Women, $4, $5 and § —NONE HIGHER. The Largest Chain of Shoe Sitores in the United States. NEW BRITAIN STORE MAIN STR Near R. R. Crossing. Cpen Mor Saturday Evenings. All Newark Stores Open Saturday Evenings to Accammodate Custemers