The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, July 10, 1904, Page 12

THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. HAT do you suppose Adam and Eve talked about?” inguired the girl in the Hongkong chair with & yawn, as she settied her Burne- Jones proportions a trifie more luxu- riously in the barbaric splendor of the plllows and clasped her large, shape- 1y hands above the shadowy darkness of her head. . “Love!” replied the man with la- conic promptness. “There wasn't any- thing else for them to talk about, so far as I can see.” 3 Miss Chesterton’s glance slowly de- tached 1 the enchanting pic- ture of tur water and topaz nds aff e oval opening n the ¢ that screened coolly upon €< rested ather!” she ar- birds and the Adam was a nion, with upon the last which the ap- a August Miss Chester- Then she once more. a man sud- ess from ured. Al- pardc loomed 1 of their wi one’s talking A ugh. You t against me,” was le You see, I feel like Like—like them perceived the new- was a fim large , of the proof passion You will content opens the side of tched thought <h of sun- the shine ar re w planatior ed for an ex- she s serpent must - = o= — = . A ] : NITY JIMMIE TORRINGTON'’S INSA | By Colin S. Collins L ey . = g e Sl HEN Jimmie Torrington pro- at the completeness and suddenness of room with so curt a “good evening’” posed amateur theatricals as his surrender. that even Torrington gasped. 2 means of lifting the debt But Torrington was not worried. If Ranson looked surprised, but there 1 the Kingston Golf Club, he Was aware of the compassion of the was no time then for explanations, and poss supplving a foundation ™Men and the scorn of the women hedid and he went off to the dressing-room for & building 'fu: i, the golf club POt show it, and his moonlike face was Wwhere the professional actor had in- crowd Aecided that he must be crazy. 21Ways lighted by a peaceful smile as stalled himseif. This bellef was strengthened when D€ Sat by the prompter's table at re- The shelf in front of the mirror was Torringion placidly consented to act Dearsals and watched the proceedings. covered with sticks -of paint of all &s property man and made no effort to prevent Herbert Ranson becoming stage manager. It was well known that Kittie Clausen favored these two of her numerous train of admirers, Torrington was the type of man who most enjoyed doing things for others. lHe was not & handsome chap, in spite of his bright eyes and clear complexion. He was rather short of (dumpy, Ranson called him), favor with Kittie Clausen had 4 his qualities of mind osition. Ranson, on the other nd, was as striking in appearance as the hero of a cheap novel. He made an ideal hero for the play and even at rehearsals he put a deal of feeling into the love scenes with Kittte, Appare: Torrington was the only one who did not motice the fervor thrown into the rehearsals, and when it was brought to his attention he merely smiled complacently and re- marked that he hoped the speaker might be able to play his part as well on the fateful night. Gradually this indjfference was ac- cepted as a silent admission that Tor- rington had withdrawn from the con- test in favor of his more attractive rival, and, when he was not around, the men began to speak of “Poor” Torrington, while the women marveled He acted as useful man about the stage, reading the part of some one un- able to attend rehearsal, holding the book as prompter or performing any slight service asked of him. Ranson, who possessed considerable ability as an actor, worked hard with his cast of amateurs, but it is not easy to teach the art of acting, and when in the course of time the repetition of mis- takes drove him frantic he gradually lost command over his temper and at the dress rehearsal he had to apologize to the entire company (including Kittie) at various times throughout the even- ing. The others absolved him, but that evening Torrington walked home with Kittie, to the great surprise of all Their astonishment would have been greater had they known that the invi- tation came from Miss Clausen herself. But if Miss Clausen had transferred her favors to Jimmie in the hope of finding in him a ready sympathizer she was in error. Torrington was sorry that her feelings had been hurt, but he was not prepared to admit that Ranson was to blame. Oddly enough, his defense of Ranson served to in- crease her sense of injury. When the night of the performance arrived she was scarcely civil to the stage man- ager and flounced into her dressing- colors, boxes of powder and the ve- rious implements of make-up art, all redolent of the cheap perfume added to conceal the rancidity of the grease used as a foundation. Ranson, to whom the process of making up was not new, gubmitted to the heavy applications of paint and powder and started back to the stage to superintend the final preparations. Presently Kittle emerged from her dressing-room and he went toward her. She shrank from him. While she knew that make-up was required, she was not accustomed to seeing men with paint on their faces and there was something oddly repulsive in the appearance of this man with his heavily lined eyebrows, rouged cheeks and whitened temples. It seemed like a ghastly mask of the man she knew— like the badly painted portrait of an acquaintance. During the first act the excitement of playing was too great to permit her to turn her attention to other thoughts. She could not permit her mind to be diverted for an instant from her next speech, the next move across the stage. ‘With the second act came greater confidence. It was here that the love scenes commenced, but they did not seem the same as at rehearsal. She + — "“PROBABLY ~EVE SGREAMED, | TOO,” SHE REMARKED DES- | PERATELY. | [ o P could not endure the touch of this man, with paint-covered features, and the penetrating odor of bergamot, heavy almost to nausea, sickened her nostrils. The scene was like a night- mare. Even worse was the last act with its powerful closing scene. The touch of his greasy lips upon her cheek, the unnatural look of the eyes made brilllant by the dark circles of crayon, startled her and before the curtain rang down she felt that she should scream. Leaving the stage after the last tab- leau, Ranson caught her hand. “Can’t you forgive last night, Kit- tle, and make the ‘ves’ you have just spoken your answer to the question I have wanted to ask for so long She tore her hand from his grasp. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that,” she panted. “If you do not let me go I shall call Mr. Torrington.” Ranson threw a black look at Tor- rington, who was placidly gathering up small stage furnishings, dropped her hand and turned away. “Jimmie,” she asked softly, “do you want to take me home agalin, to- night?” “Do I?" repeated Torrington. “r'd like to take you to a home of our own, Kittle.,” She smiled demurely. may,” she sald. That night Jimmie Torrington ad- dressed his shaggy terrler. “Wrig- gles,” he said solemnly, “when you find in your canine walk of life a lady dog you love, be wise. If she looks with favor on a sleek-coated puppy, you just get that puppy to run a dog show. It's a sure cure.” And Wriggles blinked an approving eye. (Copyright, 1904, by T. C. McClure.) “I think you tonic after the enervating wonder that s joy to rest 1 ’ solu ache—wrest and weep.” “And yet you of 1t.” ful, and Dinsr e 3 look th to feel « gave caused her redden with annoyance done so. To divine that’ undern his wor: ight lie an img her efforts to discourage his s than her startled at the appearance of the s intuition. But to sho divined it was a a break more ward spoken. nsmore laughed out, a ph in his voic f you think so, little note of e that she daid for eettling a pe x Deflance sparkled ester- ton's ej Reading between the lines,” she ob- served with much de parent evance, habit. I You ¢ cause t} At t tle further alo as if som “Incredu upon the cushions. ( to look awkward man, even a T to refuse. The warm gold of the tght was gradually was creeping stealthi alr. Dinsmore, recogn of late afternoon, looked Just a half hour until the 5 o'clock would bear him away from this corner in Paradise back to San Franciseo. He drew a small case from his pocket and calmly handed it to Miss Chester- ton. “You like old jewels! think of it,” was his comment. She obeyed him, drawing from the case a ring of qualnt workmanship in which two beautiful pearls were Im- bedded. “Beautiful!” she exclaiméd, enthusi- astically. “Exquisite!” But she did not look toward him. “What is it for and where did you get 1t?"” she added, struggling to appear natural. For an answer he leaned toward her and took it gently from her clasp. Then he lifted her left hand and calmly placed it on the third finger, holding the hand firmly in his while he sald author- itatively: “That is what it is for. As for the rest, it has been in the Dinsmore family for two hundred years, worn always by the sweetheart and wife of the eldest son.” “But you haven’t asked me,” objected a faint voice. “One doesn’t bother about those de- taifls in Paradise, beloved,” he mur- mured happily. “Adam knew that Eve was his—and by the same token, I know that you were made for me.” The slug was squirming slowly te- ward the garden again. (Copyright, 1904, by P. C. Eastment.) See what you matter-of-fact NOT IN THE WEDDING PARTY | By Euphemia Holden \ -+ ZHE best man wove his way In and out of the gay throng at the foot of the stairway. Bright col- ored confetti decorated the white shoulders of the women and the black coats of the men. The atmosphere vi- brated with music and the rustle of gowns. He walked across the deserted li- brary and, drawing aside the curtains of a small den, stepped Into semi- darkness. On the broad window seat a swirl of fluffy white stirred and a startled head arose. “Oh, 1 didn’t expect to be found,” said the maid of honor ungraciously, “I'm so tired. Are they nearly ready?” She was rising slowlv. “Don’t move,” commanded the best man, “there’s plenty of time."” Tucking the cushions behind her, he sat down in a chair at her side. “What a pace we've led the last few days,” he sighed wearily. “You girls seem able to stand it, but, personally, I'm so muddled I don’t L.now whether it’s Ralph’s wedding or mine.” “I suppose circumstances, also, make that difficult to decide.” The best man felt his color rise. He could not see the girl's face distinctly, but he knew the mischievous look that gleamed In her eyes. Of course it was no secret that Elsa and he had been girl-and-boy lovers, but the thrust piqued him. In fact, their few days’ acquaintance had been a serles of drawn battles, without malice, but not without keenness. “Have you ever been in love?’ in- quired the best man abruptly. “I have thought I was,” simply. “Ex—actly,” he went on with meas- ured emphasis, “then you've ceased thinking so. Later you've studied him calmly and said to yourself: ‘A gentle- she said man and eminently respectable, but why did I think I cared for him? ‘When you heard he was engaged to another girl you congratulated him heartily and honestly. Just the same when they were married, you felt a trifle sad and a trifle lonely. Not because you wanted anything changed, merely because it was another chap- ter closed forever.” “How do you know?" ghe cried ting up straight. He laughed the low, pleased laugh of a flattered man. “It's the way I feel about Elsa,” he sald. “And the way I feel about Ralph,™” she gasped. In the silence they could hear the talk and laughter of the wedding guests. “And yet,” she began. “And yet,” he interrupted. are the happy ones. each other.” “And they will be peaceful and con- tented because real love never analy- zes.” “While the left-overs—you and I— are sitting in the dark, tired, lonesome, sit- “They They have found theoretical, yet so hard-hearted we wouldn’t cha: e “Oh, don” she said sadly. “Just think of the fairy kingdom that be- longs to them, all full of romance and fun and companionship. Critical will never see their treasure.” The best man was surprised to hear ot her catch her breath. He had connected sentiment with the merry maid of honor, not having realized that a sharp tongue may give utter- ance to sympathy and gentleness. The discovery opened new vistas to him. “But not a treasure we should be blind to if we forced our eyves open?” She shook her head dubiously. “There’s no hope for the analytical. -+ They may peep at a gentle afterglow. One needs to be very young and very rash to find what Eisa and Ralph have found.” “You think it's out of the question for us?” “You've personal ques- tions, the third is forfeit. I merely meant to speculate. (ome! We must 80 or we'll mi ¥ L But If we stay said quickly, we find worlds. Think 2 of the time we've wasted s arring, and now- the last night—we find mutual and man sympathies.” The maid of honor the cushions, smi enthusiasn 8 “Do you she adde “nothing In the world is more than the thought of some one stand by you year after year put up with your foolishness leyal friend, who will be your forever and ever?” A babel of voices, exeited and a scurry of feet Interruptec said the maid of Hhonor up. She opened the curtains ed out. re gone,” she pouted, coming ack. » sorry,” ap: the best man, fully dras curtains behind “I ought ave—" “Ir * he cried qother wed- (Copyright, 1904, by Euphemia Holden.)