Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

t 1 2 CL TTEARST’S SUNDAY AMERICAN, ATLANTA, OA.. SUNDAY, MAY 25, 1012, Terrance's Terrible Scrape An Echo of tne Barber'* Strike. By Goode Knight. C*TT r tirT t. 191 Great [' impany -red K'flitl li O N those terriDie dayB ^hen the people ■ of l’ompcil were given the roast that killed them; when 40,000 in Lis bon were Jolted Into the Atlantic and bathed to death, and when the continent of Atlantis, with all Its happy people, was uphcaved and submarined into the depths of the ocean, bringing their death rato up to 100 per cut in one minute—when these great cata clysms happened the sky was azure, the sun was shining through fleecy clouds, the birds were twittering and all was hap piness. And so It was when our unfor tunate hero, Terrance Hlggen- hoihatu. sallied forth. The sun was blazing overhead, the birds were twittering, the fleecy clouds moved cooling shadows about over the greensward of the parks and the tesselated tar-oozlng paving blocks Sing ye. for Terrance was about to be married. Lift up your voices, for Ter rance, though poor as an editor, was about to marry an he.resser- ine with ninety-three millions! What wonder lie yodled with Joy as he sauntered torth to his bar ber’s to be dolled up for the coro- mony that would put hint on easy street? “Well!" Terrance exclaimed, when he found his faiorite barber shop closed. But he went to the next one. "Huh!" he snorted with disgust, finding that shop also closed. Then he wandered across the street to another tonsorial parlor. "Great snakes!” yelled Terrance, lor this place was also closed as tight as an Oil Kings purse "The smaller shops will be open,” he mused, as be went down a side street "Why, what the ," contin ued Terrance, tor on this street all the shops were closed Terrance began to look pallid. He stopped twirling his inalacca stick and plodded stubbornly up *ml dow u the streets in search of an open barber shop. The sun, like a dying monarch, as the Fourth Header sa)B, was It king below the horizon, gilding the accumulation of clouds that hovered about It like faithful sub jects—but this Is not getting us anywhere. Terrance is now doing a quickstep up and down tbs streets. lie has ceased murmuring "Well" nud "Huh." Long ago he began talking sterner stufT. Now, when ever he finds a closed barber shop the people sn IT and think the board of health is fumigating some Douse with brimstone. It Is only the remarks of Terrance. The little birds have ceased their twittering, the -tin lias set, the stars are peeping out, one by nue, am] still our hero plods. At last, with a cry of Joy, Ter rance finds a barber shop that is open lie rushes in "Quickly," lie gasps, "a shave and hair trim; I am in a hurry; 1 am to be married in twenty minutes!" The barber scurries around. Here is a big tip He lathers our hero s countenance and has care- f illy removed the growth from one side when three forms enter They say someth.ng in Italian. The little barber listens, then he grins, then he wipes his razor, places It In his pocket and says to Terrance: "Meester w-eel oblige by go; 1 rlosa da shop." "But you haven't finished. I'm only half shaved I " “Da strike a. I am order to stop. Da commit Jnst-a get aroun' to me. Ver' sorry " "Do you mean to tell me, you sawed-off son of-—er - er — Very well!” and sobb r.g hysterically Terrance staggered out The committee had surrounded him and were nonchalantly ex a .Tuning a collect on of weapons, including stilettos and automatic -evolvers. which explains wuy lie p st interest in his conversation arm r.ed. ■ Tat she loves mo—ahe will we I me as I am! I cannot keep her waiting!" he told himself, and he lurried to the home of his heiress. "Put that maniac out. Jeems!” ordered the lady with the ninety- three m llions. "Do you not Know me, Penel- T lie besought "I am ye-:, Terrance, your beloved, your affianced. I should ha —" “You should worry!' haughtily exclaimed i'<neli ;o i !-.., e j UE . dc Lost She Sold Her Soul an Scene—Home of Young Millionaire and His Wife. Time—Fifty Years from Now—Dinner Hour “So iht! egg is the price of honor!" I RENE—Half an hour early? BASIL—I'm awfully hungry IRENE All right; open the food safe, will you. dear? What brings you home so early to- day. dear? BASIL—I'm on the Jury. We Just finished a esse, a very sad one, too. A man w'as being tried for killing a hen. IRENE—And you helped sentence him—to death? BASIL There was nothing else to do. Don't von understand lie killed a hen—killed It in cold blood? A man who can do that deserves no pity. iUhr hn* taken buttle nf water nut of food safe, half fill* plans'*, lakes very *mall phial of m’lk anti medicine dropper and drops n little milk in raeli pin*.*.) IRENE—But his family— RASIL—Oh. you women are so sentimental! Have you forgotten that the hen Is the fowl who lays eggs? IRENE Eggs. Oh! (She turns faint and staggers slightly.) RASH. Irene—what's the mutter? IRENE (recovering) Nothing—not fling, dear. I'm belter now. But wait a minute— I've a treat for you to-night. (She lakes one cracker from food safr, puts it on platter anti sets it before him.) HASH -By Jove, dear, but we are living high - a cracker! IRENE—And milk— BASIL—Milk! A cracker and milk the same duy—Isn’t that rather— IRENE—But you're making a hundred thou sand a year! BASIL-—Still, there's no use squandering it. Is there? However, I suppose we can treat our- r■ Ives once in a while. (She doses food safe and locks it. They begin to eat. H» serves her with half the cracker, takes the rest himself and they eat it with forks. He smacks his lips.) It 1b delicious. Remember, when we first married we couldn’t have these little luxuries. But, you know, whenever I sit down to a meal like this I think of the poor who can’t buy proper food. IRENE—Yes. BASIL—That’s why we could show no mercy to that man to-day. You see, what made It so terrible was—that the hen was about to be come a— IRENE (getting faint again)—Don't—don't, Basil— BASIL—Why. my dear child, what is the matter? You must see the doctor again. I've noticed you haven’t been yourself for some time. You haven’t been eating well; why, look there— you've hardly touched your diuncr! IRENE—I’m not hungry. (She collects the m/mbs and puls them on a plate and the plate in the food safr.) You won't mind having these for breakfast, will you, dear? BASIL—No; but the doctor— IRENE—Basil, I—I’ve seen the doctor—1 went to-day. BASIL—What did be say? (She is silent.) Come—-come dear, why don’t you tell me? IRENE—I—I—oh, what s the use, Basil? It— BASH.,—It s something serious, then? IRENE—-Yes. (An exclamation from him.) We we might as well face it. Basil, the doctor says I've got to eat another egg. BASIL—Great heavens! IRENE (turning to him, weeping)—I can’t help It, Basil; you—you know It isn’t my fault. BASIL—But—won't a trip to Europe do—a change of scene? Anything— (Irene sinks in chair.) Why, it's only two years ago you had an egg—a whole one. I had to mortgage this house to get It for you. Surely you can’t need another—so soon— IRENE—I know It's terrible, but—I—I must have It, Basil— BASIL—Oh, how did you ever get this ac cursed taste—ah—thank heaven the children all starved to death. They might have Inherited— IRENE—Basil! (He stops.) That’s a cruel thing to say. I never told you how I came to be—this way— BASIL—No, you never told me. You married me without letting me know you had this crav ing for eggs—oh, how could you? IRENE—Basil, when I was a little girl my parents were very wealthy, and once they gave me—an egg to taste. My brother had brought tt from Europe. You know the effect the taste of a egg has on one—the strange feeling of happi ness that, once felt, can never be forgotten. I— I couldn’t forget It. The taste of that egg has been the memory of my waking hours, my dream at night. Sometimes the desire for It drives me to the point of madness. Oh! don’t look at me like that; X know I shouldn’t have married you without telling you of it; but—I loved you, Basil. BASIL—If you had loved me you would have told me. IRENE—Then you won’t—get It—for me? BASIL (recoiling)—Great heavens, I can’t! IRENE (cold and hard)—Very well, I’ve nothing more to say. (Returns as if to go out, pauses at door.) BASIL—Don’t take it like this, Irene. Heav ens knows I’d do it if I could; hut it’s out of the question. Good night. IRENE (looking straight front)—You’re go ing to bed? BASIL—Yes—I—I have a touch of indiges tion. Good night. (He goes out.) (She sits a moment in thought, then rises and goes to phone. She takes off the receiver and puts it to her ear. As she does so a knock comes at the door. She says, ”Come in.” and Harold enters and stands Inside doorway. She is startled at sight of him and retreats, leaving receiver off the hook. Harold is a good-looking man, in uniform. He has a leather case strapped on his left side, a revolver at his right.) 1R EN E—H a rol d—you! HAROLD (drawing back)—Irene'. IRENE—Why do you come to me again, after all these years? HAROLD—You see my uniform—I am an of ficer of the Food Trust IRENE—An officer—the Food Trust! HAROLD—Yes. You ordered a slice of bread? (She nods.) I was sent to deliver It. (He hands her a small package, she takes tt, puts it in the food sale. He hands her the paper.) Please sign the receipt. (Bhe does so and hands it back; their hands touch—both are much moved. Then he turns as if to leave her.) IRENE—Harold, don’t leave me like this. You never understood— HAROLD—I only know you broke my heart and ruined my life when you married him—not for love, but—for food. IRENE—Yes—and I’ve been punished. The food I crave he can't give me. HAROLD—Be careful. IRENE—What is It? HAROLD—You mustn't toudh this case. IRENE—Why, what does It contain? HAROLD—Hush! (Lowers voice and comes to her, whispering.) An egg. IRENE—An egg! (Stops her mouth with her han&J HAROLD—8h! I—I shouldn’t have told you. I’m on my way to a billionaire’s house to de liver it. (Turns to go.) IRENE—You said once that you would do anything In the world If I would he yours. HAROLD—Yes, I said that—once. IRENE—Then I give you the chance to prove It now. HAROLD—You mean that you will— IRENE—Yes, I’ll be yours on one condition. HAROLD—Name it—name it, and I’ll— (He starts to her, she keeps him off.) IRENE—Wait; give me—that egg! HAROLD—You don’t realize what you’re ask ing. They know I left the storehouse. If I don’t return soon they’ll search and discover the truth. Then I’ll be a fugitive from justice—a hunted man—dishonored and disgraced. IRENE—And am I not worth it? (Puts her arms around him, tempts him with her lips; he kisses her; then, realizing what he is. he stands with bowed head.) Now let me see the egg. (After a rh\-ntal struggle he undoes the case, first drawing his revolver and looking around carefully. She falls on her knees, adoring it.) Now—we must go—quickly. But wait; you can’t carry it in that case. It would be recog nized. Ha! my jewel box— (Gets it quickly, takes out a handful of gems, throws them away and puts the egg in the box. As she is closing the lid Basil enters. She gives a startled cry and moves away from the toble, leaving box on it.) Why, Basil; I thought you’d retired— (Basil, without speaking, moves toward table, suddenly seizes jewel box, opens it. Irene gives a cry. Harold draws his gun.) BASIL (seizing the egg and holding it up)— Shoot, and watch it fall. (Harold lowers gun.) IRENE—Basil, how did you know? BASIL—The phone—you left the receiver off. An Amusing Travesty on the Cost of Living, from the Popular One-Act Play, “FOOD.” Published by Permission. I heard everything, (holding up egg)—And this Is the price of honor— IRENE—Basil! Basil! What are you going to do? Basil—Basil— Ah! (Gives a shriek at Basil dashes the egg to the floor, on the little rug. Sinks to her knees over it. Harold stag gers back, convulsed with horror.) HAROLD—Do you know what you have done? BASIL—Yes, claimed the price. Now pay it HAROLD—Yes, I’ll pay it; but your punish ment is worse than mine. Through all your life (pointing to remains of egg) you'll see that horrible sight—that little egg lying there crushed and mangled—wasted—wasted—and by your hand. Thnnk heaven I haven’t got that to face! IRENE—Harold, where are you golug? HAROLD—To give myself up. ( - IRENE—But—It means—death. HAROLD—Yes. Good-by. (He goes out.) IRENE (turns to Basil, who is standing mo tionless)—Basil, I—I didn’t mean to—I was mad—the sight of It—the knowledge that it wa» here—1n my hands— BASIL—There can be nothing more between you and me. I shall go to the club to-night When I return to-morrow I don’t want to find you here. IRENE—You—mean? BASIL—You have betrayed me—for an egg. IRENE—Wait, you needn’t go I’ll go now—• to-night. BASIL—Very well. (Irene starts to roll up the rug on which the egg is lying.) Irene, have you no shame? You would take it even now, after what has happened? IRENE (the rug rolled up and in her arms) — Why shouldn’t I? It's all I’ve got left now, and I’ve paid for 1t, haven't I? Oh, I’ve paid all right, and I’ve got to go on paying the rest of my life. (With a bitter laugh.) Oh, what do you know about temptation. You have never tasted an egg in your life, and you stand there and judge me—-who had it given to me—given to me when I was a little, defenseless child- got It in my blood before I knew what It meant —and— (checking herself) Oh, what’s the use; you never ate one, and you can’t understand— you can't understand. (A pause—his back is to her—she goes to him.) They gave tt to me fatten I was young, Basil—when I was young. (He doesn't move. Bhe turns and exits sob bing. carrying the rug in her arms. He sinks into the chair, his face in his hands.) CURTAIN. abating Society onders of the Universe By Anthony H. Euwer (Conducted by Prof. Ora Torric) (This week we will take up the affirmative side of the all-important question: "Resolved. That it is worse for a man to sew on a button than for a woman to drive a nail!" Next week It may bo something else again.) HEN we state that it is worse for a man to sew on a button than for a woman to drive a nail, we have * hit the nail on the head— that Is, the feminine finger nail on the head of the hammer. Down through the ages since the time Mother Evs designed her celebrated skirtlet with the aid of a tew fig leaves and a bunch of crab-apple thorns, it has been woman s sphere to do the sewing for the family. Just as tt has been man's sphere to handle a hammer since the days he bounded a stone axe on the head of some prehistoric disosaurian In the quest of a suc culent steak. Therefore, would we but allow Nature to have her righteous way about everything, no man would endanger hts soul and his body attempting to sew on buttons. He might prick his thumb and get tetauus—that's the body danger— :md it's safe to assert he would use a line of unexpurgated lan guage when he pricked his thumb ihat would endanger the safety of his soul. It may not be quite right for a woman to drive a nail. We are ot attempting to prove it is. Our ! duty is to prove that it is much | worse fo: a man to attempt to i sew on a button. Suppose a woman does try to drive a nail? When she pounds hei fingers there are only three things j that can happen. If she is devoutly religious she j will probably say. "Oh, Dear!” If she is just an ■ average woman she will hop up and down and prob ably say. “Oh. Darn!’ but If she Is a really quick | tempered, highly-strung, sensitive woman, she will throw the hammer through the window and clinch her teeth and say nothing—that can he heard. And there you are. But when poor man essa.vs to sew on a button it take3 him fifteen minutes to learn that the eve of the ueedle is not on the same end as the point. During this time he will have expressed himself freely on several topics Next he will jati the threaded needle through the at ric. pul the button o. r uei tile and van - The ivsuit i- his aim t. ill d. ;'uu liu.:.h, the Lutu:. Pole right, 1013. by ttiv SUr Coropsnj. Great Britain Rights Reeffrred. will fall to the floor and he will have to try agatn. After several attempts at thlB, tt will suddenly dawn upon him that It is necessary to tie a knot In the end of the thread, but this discovery will not come until he has expressed his opinion profanely upon every known subject from why field violets are purple to why the radio-activity of barum Is not equal t6 that of pure radium. The recording angels will weep and ask for the latest Improved electric stenographic typewriters. Then the man will diligently sew the thread over and over between Just two of the four holes In the button until he has them so full he has to hammer the needle through, after which he will jab viciously, run the needle Into his thumb and break tt off. At this Juncture he will go Into convulsions, but finally take a trip to the surgeon, have the thumb X-rayed, the needle-point extracted V 9 ^> 4LP and go back home. "I got the button sewed on,” he will exclaim, picking up the garment. Then, with his knife, he will cut the thread. In do ing this he will cut all the threads, and the button will fall off, and when they find him and take him away to the asylum he will be moaning continually, "Button, but ton, who's got the needle In the haymow ?” Then again, a woman can wait until some male friend arrives to drive that nail She hasn't got to hold up anything In particular with that nail. It may be a pantry 6helf or a curtain rod, or a pic ture. But surely she can appear In public whether these things are properly suspended or not. But the poor man — when he sews on a button it is because It Is terribly Important; fearfully Important. That button is not going to hold up any shelves or curtain rods, but It Is going to hold up something, and he positively cannot appear In public until the button is in place and on the regulation hold!ng-up Job. Woman doesn't have to pound that nail. It isn't her Job and she can go out without the nail being driven. But when It comes to a button, she should be right at home sewing It on, In order that poor man may venture forth sanely clad and wrest a few- more wads of currency from hts business. Inasmucn as woman generally and almost tmme liiately gets that wad of currency, she has no excuse for not sewing on the button. There are few crimes as hideous, pitiful, and shod, ng as that of the woman who allows man to i , nil iiv o.vu luUous. Copyright, 1913, by the Star Company. Great Britain Rights Reserved. No. 2—The Telephone T HE telephone is the shortest audible distance between two alien bodies. It consists of a wire through which may be poured language of any kind—good, bad or foreign. By the use of the telephone, the most difficult languages are made plainly intelligible—Greek, Arabic and Weehawken havjng been transmitted with the greatest ease. Like the phonograph, a number of people may listen to the telephone at the same time, Including the operator when not otherwise engaged. As many others as may comfortably get on the same wire may also engage In the conversation, which Is thus much enlivened, consisting of a tourney of wits, polite anathema and diversified invective, furnishing a delightful pastime and, from the Inaccessibility of the opponents, quite harmless. If you are not familiar with the.telephone and Its use, approach the Instrument fearlessly, addressing the talk-hole quite informally with the { i ',JS I Hello, is this Nineveh? Well, send a whaler to Lat. 44.23, i.on_ r . 89.37. I'm all ixl" salutation, “Hello!’’ Do not try to talk to people who have no phone— It takes at least two to make a phone conversation interesting. If they have nothing but a gas meter, use the mail. If there Is no response to your first greeting, hello again, using a slightly rising inflection, with the emphasis on the metal holder. Do not talk harshly to central. Beside attending the switch, telling the time of day and reading best-sellers, they are constantly called upon to reprove rude patrons, keep track of no end of family squabbles, etc., etc. If you should not find the number you want, call up Information. Out< line your dilemma as briefly as possible, put the receiver In your ear and go to sleep. In half an hour or so, a gentle voice will awake you to say that the phone has just been taken out of that apartment Then ask for the nearest drug store and go to sleep again. W hen you awake, wiggle the metal holder. If there is no response, keep up the wiggling until you count a hundred. If there Is no answer by this time, it would be better to hang up the receiver before continuing your conversation. Always hang up the receiver—never throw it Re member that information is a lady and that she represents a Limited Trust. Questions of a personal, political or religious character should not he asked under any circumstances. There are Telephone centrals and Hotelephone centrals. To hold her Job, an Hotelephone central must be able to look very beautiful. At the end of the first year she acquires such a finish through her various social connections that she is willing to accept a much higher salary for con siderably less work. This is paid by the millionaire who marries her and carts her off to Atlantic City as soon a3 her photographs have been featured in all the daily papers. Though apparently phony, these marriages are usually very happy, as the bride, being skilled In all manly evasions and subter fuges, may know what to expect and temper her conduct accordingly. As you do not have to look people in the eye, plain lying can be handled much safer on the phone than in ordinary conversation. Never hang up the receiver till your partner has finished stating his case, as this is considered the pinnacle of rudeness; it should only be resorted to in the case of creditors, reporters, insistent suitors, invitations to turkey- trots, etc. One of the most important uses of the phone Is in the climax scenes of the W all Street variety. It Is also used to some extent commercially. When you drop in to use your friend’s phone, do not think because he has ''unlimited service” that it applies to your conversation in particular. Should you be cut off, abruptly, do not be peevish—remember this is central s prerogative should vour conversation prove dry or uninteresting. W hat changes might have taken place in the world's history, had the telephone received earlier attention, we can now but vaguely approximate. If Jonah, after his sensational disappearance, could have established Immediate connections with his friends in Nineveh, a whaling expedition could have set forth to recover the klanapped prophet without further delay. if he'd had a telephone, Paul Revere might have saved himself all that wild night ride by sitting down and ringing up all the farmers from their beds, and that shot might have been heard around the world three hours sooner, at least. Does any one suppose that Sister Anne would have spent all those hours of agony on Blue Beard’s tower looking for succor if she could have called up a suitor to speed with all haste to the rescue of her darling sister? And little Red Riding Hood, had she dashed to the phone the instant she discovered the old wolf's perfidy, Bight lived to become a dear old granny herself and tell the erants of thfP terrible day to her own grand and great grand children. But no. now that I think of it. perhaps 'tis just aa wall we didn't navw it sooner—history would hate been utterly ruint** with a telephone.