The Seattle Star Newspaper, November 10, 1921, Page 13

THE SEATTLE STAR DOINGS OF THE DUFFS | WONDER WHERE OLIVIA 1S UNTIL THIS HOUR ! YOu GO ON | DON'T LIKE TO RETIRE | To BED, I'm GOING “"® READ FOR AWHILE YET ~ PLL LET e ee ee IN STREET cage || es The Story of Carol Kennicott BY SINCLAIR LEWIS Copyright, 1920, Harcourt, Brace & Howe, Inc. e Seeccecccesesscccsososeoecsose (Continued From Yesterday) touting these Greek dancers, or Mt whatever they are, that don't even They had gene to the “movies."| wear a shimmy!" The movies were almost as vital to But, dear, the trouble with that{ Kennicott and the other solid citi-| fiim—it wasn’t that it got in so gens of Gopher Prairie as land/ many legs, but that it giggled coyty speculation and guns and automo-|and promised to show more of them diles. jand then didn’t keep the promise, It The featura film portrayed a] wag Peeping Tom's idea of humor brave young Yankee who conquered] “I don't get you. Look here & South American republic. He/ now turned the natives from their bar She lay barous habits of singing and laugh-| with slor ing to the vigorous sanity, the Pep) “I must go on. and Punch and Go, of the North;| he calls them. I thought that ado: he taught them to work tn factories./ ing him, watohing him operats,| to wear Klassy Kollege Klothes, and| would be enough. It isn't. Not) to shout, “Oh, you baby doll, watch| after the first thrill | me gather in the mazuma.” He| “I don’t want to hurt him, But changed nature itself. A mountain) I must go on, which had borne nothing but lilies} “It isn't enough, to stand oy d cedars and joafing clouds was] while he fills an automobile radiator y his Hustle so inspirited that it) and chucks me bits of information. broke out in long wooden sheds, and| “If I stood by and admired him piles of iron ore to be converted| long enough, I would be content. I into steamers to carry iron ore to] would become a ‘nice little woman.’ be converted into steamers to carry) The Village Virus. Already I'm iron ore. not reading anything. I haven't The intellectual tension induced) touched the piano for a week. I'm by the master film was relieved by/ letting the days drown in worship a livelier, more lyric and less philo-| of & good deal, ten plunks more sophical drama: Mack Schoarken/ per acre.’ I won't! I won't suc and the Bathing Suit Babes in aj cumb! YOUNG LADY, WHERE HAVE ‘You BEEN UNTIL THIS HOUR OF ‘THE NIGHT P IT'S NEARLY TWELVE OCLocK | YOU SEE,WILBUR ANO DORIS INVITED ME OVER TO THEIR APARTMENT FOR DINNER AND BELIE ME ILL NEVER GO THERE AGAIN ! | WAS UNAVOIDABLY DETAINED ! AFTER DINNER WHEN | DECIDED TO GO HOME - AND YOU KNOW WHAT A SMALL FLAT THEY HAVE WELL | GOT WEDGEO IN AND HAD AN awake, while he rumbled! My ‘crank ideas,’ | ol BY BLOSSER ¥ RT REP ESOS S Say comety of manners entitled “Right on the Coco.” Mr. Schnarken was at various high moments a cook, a & burlesque actor, and a eculptor. There was a hotel hall way up which policemen charged, only to be stunned by plaster busts hurled upon them from the innumer- ous doors. If the plot lacked lucid “How? I've failed at everything the Thanatopsia, parties, pioneers, city hall, Guy and Vida. But— It doesn't matter! I'm not trying to ‘reform the town’ now, I'm not trying to organize Browning Clubs, and sit In clean white kids yearning Up at lecturers with ribbony eye- glasses, I am trying to save my SPF FFE RE FFEFF By ity, the dual motif of legs and pie| soul. was clear and sure. Bathing and “Will Kennicott, asleep there, Modeling wore equally sound occa-| trusting me, thinking he holds me. sions for legs; the wedding scene|And I'm leaving him. All of me ee 7 ~ as but an approach to the thunder-|ieft. him when ‘he laughed at me{ Want the same things—we're atl to! EVERETT TRUE ous climax when Mr. Schnarken|It wasn't enough for him that 1|#ether, the industrial workers and) q da plece of custard ple into| admired him; I must change myself] ‘®* Women and the farmers and th clergyman’s rear pocket and grow like him. He takes ad-| #TO race and the Asiatic colonic The audience in the Rosebud| vantage. No more. It's finished.|®2¢ even @ few of the respectables Movie Palace squealed and wiped|1 will go on.” It's all the same revolt, in all thelr eyes; they scrambled under Iv the classes that have waited and the seats for over-shoes, mittens,| Her violin lay on top of the up-| ‘ker advice, 1 think perhaps we and muffiers, while the screen an-| right plano. She picked it up. Since| W#%t & more conscious life. We're nounced that next week Mr. Schnar-|she had last touched it the dried| “i'd of drudging and sleeping ant ken might be seen in a new, rip-| strings had snapped. and upon it dying. We're Ured of seeing just a few people able to be individualist«. » extra-special superfeature a tea umao! ban an tne Cocperation | ny * Sold and crimeon clgarbend.| We're tired of always deferring hops ate BY AHERN Ven, an! HE, KNEW “THAT Now We'D BE BACK i HERE WT A é OUR BOARDING HOUSE Z{OK— DIME! 1 WoNDER \A7_ 1 Jes! wPPENED To "WOW IT GOT UNDER THIS i gee» shat PLATE? IT WASN'T THERE | 7 UNDER HIS PLATE WHEN | SET THE TABLE = | ~| WHEN HE GOT UP Al ae HE DID IT LIKE HE MAYBE SOMEBODY AS IN A TRANCE ! DOING A MAGIC TRICK! seep | & \\ NY “6 Ny) Danan Comedy entitled, “Under Mollie's Bed.” “I'm glad." said Carol to Kenni- cott as they stooped before the Rorthwest gale which was torturing the barren street, “that this is a moral country. We don't allow any of these beastly frank novels.” “Yump. Vice Society and Postal Department won't stand for them. The American people don't like filth.” It's fine. I'm glad we have such dainty romances as ‘Right on the Coco’ instead.” “Say what in heck do you think you're trying to do? Kid me?” He was silent. She awaited his anger. She meditated upon his gutter patois, the Boeotian dialect characteristic of Gopher Prairie. He ; Duzalingly. When they into the glow of the house he peereabakeie hae tiveness, that boost and get the world’s work done.” “Then I'm probably a crank.” She smiled negligently. “No. I won't admit it. You do like to talk, but at a showdown you'd prefer Sam Clark to any magazines publish of highbrow stories it old maids, and about wives don't know what they want. Ob, we're a terror! . . . Come now, Carrie; come out of it; wake You've got a fine nerve, kick- & movie because it shows Why, you're always oe She longed to see Guy Pollock, for the confirming of the brethren in the faith. But Kennicott's dom» nance was heavy upon her. She could not determine whether she was checked by fear of him, or by inertia—by distike of the emotional labor of the “scenes” which would be involved in asserting inde. pendence. She was like the revolu tioniat at fifty: not afraid of death but bored by the probability of bad steaks and bad breaths and sitting up all night on windy barricades. | The second event after the movies she impulsively summoned Vida Sherwin and Guy to the house for pop-corn and cider. In the liv. ing-room Vida and Kennicott de bated “the value of manual tratn- ing in grades below the eighth,” while Carol sat beside Guy at the dining table, buttering popcorn. She was quickened by the speculation in his eyes. She murmured: “Guy, do you want to help me?” “My dear! How?” “I don't know! He waited. “I think I want you to help me find out what has made the dark- ness of the women. Gray darkness | and shadowy trees. We're all in it, | ten million women, young married women with good prosperous hu» bands, and business women in linen collars, and grandmothers that out to teas, and wives of underpaid miners, and farmwives who really like to make butter and go to church. What is it we want—and need? Will Kennicott there would may that we need lots of children and hard work. But it ten't that. There's the same discontent in women with eight children and one *| More coming--always one more com ing! And you find it raphers and wives who scrub, just as much as in girl college graduates | who wonder how they can cacape | their kind parents. What do we { want?” “Besentially, I think, you are like myself, Carol; you want to go back to an age of trenquillity and charm ing manners. You want to en throne good taste again.” “Just good taste? Fastidious peo- ple? Oh—no! I believe all of us DVENTURES , “Do tell us which is the most beautiful” The Twins thought that it was time they were doing something to break up the meeting, so they made their way thru the popweed tangle to the place where all the fish-ladies Were quarreling about their clothes Gnd who was the finest 'n’ all. They certainly did wear fine tlothes, Nancy thought, especially Mrs. Wrasse and Mrs. Goby. Indeed, all of them would have made the Most wonderful of Christmas tree ernaments, for they shimmered and Bhone and glittered und glistened With all the colors of the rainbow. Suddenly Mrs. Boar-Fish spied the fle boy and girl looking at them. ok!" she cried, pointing with her Queer looking, long, piggy snout that Was just like her husband's. Mra, Boar-Fish was really proud of the “family nose,” a8 she called it, for, ‘88 whe val ‘@ good long none is cer. tainly a sign of character.” I" she repeated. “Here comes who will decide the ques- look important to me, as [they are wearing badges like Cap'n | Pennywinkle’s, so no doubt we may |trust them, Suppose we ask them |who ts the most beautiful of us all.” “Yes, yes, yes,” cried the others, swimming around the Twins. “Do tell us which is the most beautiful, #o that we may elect her president.” Nancy fell to thinking, then she said, “Mrs, Butter-Fish, for she stays home and helps her husband.” “But she had no tail! accused |Mra. Blenny, indignantly. “And no nose,” answered bright |Mra, Boar-Fish, turning redder than lever, “Or spots, or striped,” | Mrs. Rock-Fish. “Handsome is as handsome does,” |quoted Nancy, wisely. | The fish-ladies looked thoughtful. “She's right,” they said, “we'll elect declared till the next generation, We're tire of hearing the politicians and prie# and cautious reformers (and the hu bands) coax us, ‘Be calm! Be pr tient! Wait! We have the plans fo & Utopia already made; just give Us & bit more time and we'll pro Mrs. Butter-Fish, and now we'd bet. ter go home to our families.” Which they did (To Be Continued) (Copyright, 1921, Seattle Star) duce it; trust us; we're wiser thao you” For ten thousand years they've said that We want our Utopia now—and we're going to try our hands at It. All we want is everything for all of us! For ever housewife and every longshorem: and every Hindu nationalist an every teacher. We want everythin We sha'n't get it Bo we sha'n ever be content—" She wondered why he was win ing. He broke in: “See here, my dear, I certainly hope you don't class yourself with & lot of troublemaking labor-tead ers! Democracy is all right theo retically, and I'l! admit there are industrial injustices, but I'd rather have them than see the world re duced to a dead level of mediocrity I refuse to believe that you have anything in common with a lot of laboring men rowing for bigger Wages so that they can buy wretch ed fivvers and hideous player pianos and—' At this second, in Buenos Ayres & Newspaper editor broke his routine of being bored by exchanges ‘o assert, “Any injustice is better than seeing the world reduced to a gra) level of scientific duliness.” At thix second a clerk standing at the bar of a New York saloon stopped mil! ing his secret fear of his nagging — office manager long enough t» grow! at the chauffeur beside him, “Aw, you socialists make me sick! I'm an individualist. I ain't going to be nagged by no bureaus and| »| take orders off labor leaders. And) mean to say a hobo's as good as you and me?" | At this second Carol realized that for all Guy's love of dead elegancen his timidity was as depressing to her as the bulkiness of Sam Clark She realized that he was not a| mystery, as she had excitedly be-| lieved; not @ romantic messenge: from the world outside on whom! she could count for escape. He be-| longed to Gopher Prairte, absolutely She was snatched back from a| dream of far countries, and found herself on Main Street, He was completing his protest “You don’t want to be mixed up in all this orgy of meaningless dis- content?” She soothed him. “No, I don't. I'm not herole. I'm scared by all the fighting that’s going on in the world, I want nobility and ad-} venture, but perhaps I want. still more to curl on the hearth with some one I love. “Would you—" He did not finish it. He picked] up a handful of popcorn, let tt run thru his fingers, looked at hor wistfully, With the loneliness of one who has put away @ possible love Carol saw that he was a stranger, She saw that he had never been any- thing but a frame on which she) had hung shining garments. If she| had let him diffidently make love to her, it was not because she cared, but because she did not care, because it did not matter, She smiled at him with the ex-| asperating tactfulness of a woman) checking @ flirtation; a smile like an ry pat on the arm. She sighed, ou're @ dear to let me tell you my imaginary troubles.” She bounced up, and trilled, “Shall we take the pop-corn in to them now?" Guy looked after her desolately. While she teased Vida and Kennt- cott she was repeating, “I must go on.” vi Miles Bjornstam, the pariah “Red Swede,” had brought his circular saw and portable gasoline engine to the house, to cut the cords of pop- lar for the kitchen range. Kenni- cott had given the order; Carol knew nothing of it till she heard the ringing of the saw, and glanced out to see Bjornstam, in black leather Jacket and enormous ragged purple mittens, pressing sticks against the whirling blade, and fling- ing the stove lengths to one side, The red irritable motor kept up a red irritable “tip-tip-tip-tip-tip-tip.” The whine of the saw rose till it simulated the shriek of a firealarm whistle at night, but always at the OF HABIT FROM HIS _< NOONDAY MEALS MADE HARVEY FOSTER FORGET HIMSELF AND — LEAVE A TIP UNDER HIS PLATE AT SUPPER! == ar OF Srattle % s e bel Cleland _»% -By Mabel Ci Page 517 SAVED BY AN UGLY FACE (Chapter 11) Pegsy looked up into the blue, blue eyes of the-little-lady-with- white-curls and tried to imagine her as she had been when her father led her away from the scene of the massacre, back to the wagons and her mother. David was thinking hard. “Wasn't it awfully hard not to tell about it?’ he asked. “I re member once—I tried to keep something from motherdear and at night I could hardly go to sleep.” “It was very, very hard,” the- Iittlelady-with-white-curls replied. “In the first piace I was fright- ened most terribly myself by what I had seen, and in the second place I wasn't used to having secrets from my mother, and I not only could hardly sleep, I couldn't eat. “That evening, when we were all gathered around our supper fire, mother noticed I wasn't eat- ing”. “Are you fll?" she asked, and put her hand on my head to see if it felt feverish. “It seemed to me she must be able to see inside my head and look at the awful picture there of that massacre. “But she couldn't, of course, #0 every mealtime she cooked special things for me, to tempt my appe tite, but I could not eat. “Father told several of the men in the party what we had seen and they were all around and watching; and of all the women and children only I knew of the terrible danger threatening. “In a day or two, looking across the broad plains where the earth and the sky seemed to melt into each other at the horizon, we saw a band of Indians riding towards us, “They seemed not to be hurry. ing; they made no war cry; just followed, and steadily hour by hour they were drawing a little nearer. “We were nearing the Sweet Water, and father knew that the trail there led thru some very high bluffs and narrow passes. The Indians drew nearer and nearer, and finally one day when we stepped for dinner and the mid-day rest they came up with us, “Remembering what we had seen in the gulch, father had all the women and children hide under the covers, far back in the great wagons.” What do you want?’ he asked the they got off their ponies p to our train. n’s squaw,’ they an- swered, ‘Heap pretty squaw; maybe Indian buy, maybe he tak “We could hear them as they talked. “And in our party was one of the ugliest women [ ever saw—long none, thin face, scraggy neck, stringy hair, and all her front teeth ‘gone but two, tke tusk: P gave them one toothless, twisted grin. “white man's squaw!" they cried, ‘No pretty, Indian no can take,’ ” Twkeen end it gave a‘ lively metallic clang, and in the stillness she heard the flump of the cut stick falling on the pile, She threw a motor robe over her, ran out. Bjornstam welcomed her, “Well, well, well! Here's old Miles, fresh as ever, Well say, that's all right; he ain't even begun to be cheeky yet; next summer he's g0- ing to take you out on his horse trading trip, clear into Idaho.” “Yes, and I may go!” “How's tricks? Crazy about the town yet?” “No, but I some day.” ‘Don't let ‘em get you, probably shall be, Kick ‘em in the face!” He shouted at her while he worked. The pile of stove-wood grew astonishingly. The pale bark of the poplar sticks was mottled with lichens of sage-green and dusty gray; the newly sawed ends were freshcolored, with the agreeable roughness of a woolen muffler, To the sterile winter air the wood gave @ scent of March sap. Kennicott telephoned that he was joing into the country. Bjornstam had not finished his work at noon, and she invited him to have dinner with Bea in the kitchen, She wished that she were independent enough to dine with these her guests. Sho Confessions of a Movie Star Now, of course, I never, I was fairly sick when I that a total stranger, and not one of our company, was to follow me |around and make violent love to me, |and harass me to distraction and the verge of suicide in “Love in Leash.” The part of the villain in the play I was about to undertake wasn’t much less important than that of the hero. to do it. knew. No wonder I was distressed as 1 waited to be introduced to Dick Barnes over the phone. First came Bangs’ voice: “Hello-o0. May? about those green eyes! I wanted: somebody I sympathetic I'm so sorry lconsidered their friendliness, she sneered at “social distinctions,” she raged at her own taboos—and she continued to regard them as re tainers and herself as a lady. She gat in the dining-room and listened thru the door to Bjornstam’'s boom ing and Bea's giggles. She was the go out to the kitchen, lean against the sink, and talk to them. ‘They were attracted to each! other; a Swedish Othello and Des- demona, more useful and amiable) then their prototypes. Bjornstam told his scapes: selling horses in 4 Montana mining camp, breaking @ log-Jjam, being impertinent to a “two-fisted” millionaire lumberman. Bea gurgied “Oh my!" and kept his coffee cup filled, He took a long time to finish the wood. He had frequently to go into the kitchen to get warm. Carol heard him confiding to Bea, “You're a darn nice Swede girl. I guess if would have confessed to anyone that | Dick Barnes on the line, learned |So much was intended for me, What I heard next was not: ~. “Son, you're now going to meet | structed. the finest little lady who ever got lost in the movie game!” A pause and then: “Miss Scott?” A pause at my end of the wire. I knew it as well as IT At last I managed | versation with: to speak, calmly and cordially: I'm very glad to I didn’t want a new man |knew my own! The strangely vibrant quality of Dick Barnes’ voice over had startled me, one voice in the world like it—daily —for two happy vacation month; And there seemed no chance wh: more absurd to herself in that, after | the rite of dining alone, she could; I had @ woman like you I wouldn't be such a sorehead. Gosh, your kitchen is clean; makes an old bach feel sloppy. Say, that's nice hair you got. Huh? Me fresh? Saaay, girl, if I ever do get fresh, you'll know it. Why, I could pick you up with one finger, and hold you in the air long enough to read Robert J. Ingersoll clean thru. Ingersoll? Oh, he's a religious writer, Sure. You'd like him fine.” pastoral, “And I— But T will go on.” (Continued Tomorrow) “Bayer” on Genu Unless you see the When he drove off he waved t>/tablets you are not getting genuine Bea; and Carol, lonely at the win-| aspirin rescribed by hysicians dow above, was envious of their| ror : eae twenty-one years safe by millions, Take Aspirin only as told In the Bayer package for Colds, Headache, * (Copyright, 1921, Seattle Star) CHAPTER VII—I HEAR A VOICE I USED TO KNOW never That's good. Say, I’m going to put up with your company I'm so|I appreciate my Bangs it your own|/T laughed. “Good-by!”" hung up a receiver with I didn’t want to say “ luctance. by” to the new villain. I could not/listen to that Arizona, and proved |ties of 24 and 100. I pulled myself together Ready?” | painful effort and put my mind the rehearsals. I seldom had to 4 hearse unless extras were to I was always willing work with them. Since they hired by the day, it was part of responsibility to see that the with them went off right before cameras. Dick Barnes concluded our “Unfortunately, I've never picture of you, Miss Scott. You I've been abroad for a year, The ensuing silence was long. I|landed. Nandy picked meq up at had about concluded that somebody me off when I heard this: “Thank you, Miss Scott! sorry to bother you! Better? | just give me a hint of your style of business in the tenement interior, | you?” I'd esteem it a great favor! says you're to have way—as usual!” “They'll shoot the tenement first I didn’t know. Mr. Bangs didn't—" I stammered, stopped. keep my mind on what I was say-| voice. I was disgusted with myself cause I hadn't the courage to @ the wire|Mr. Barnes to send a few stills @ T had heard the/ himself out to my apartment! (To Be Continued) -| Colorado river forms a ever would hear that} boundary between California fraternity house. And he hooked” luck. Now But if you'd | won't object if I get Bangs or Ni to show me some of your stills, “Not at all! Nandy has ap familiar ine Aspirin—say “Bayer matism, Earache, Toothache, on package or on}bago and for Pain. 4 sell Bayer Tablets of Aspirin | handy tin boxes of 12, and in Aspirin is trade mark of Bayer Manuf of Monoaceticacidester of Neuralgia, Rheuw-jacid,