Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

■ ' . I *» •' ■' in Terrance's Terrible Scrape An Echo of the Barber'* Strike. By Goode Knight. CopyrtiM. 1813, to !hr Sl*r lompuij. Ur, A' Britain Rlshti lleisrwl O N those terrible (lays when the people of Pompeii were Riven the roast that killed them; when 40.000 lit Lis bon were Jolted into the Atlantic and bathed to death, and when the oontlnenl of Atlantis, with all Its happy peoplo, was upheaved and submarined Into the de|itbs of the ocean, brining tiheir d«ath rath up to 100 per cent in one minute when these great cata clysms happened the sky wag 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 Hlggeu- botharn. 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-ooztng paving blocks. Sing ye, for Terrance was about to be married. IJft up your voice*, for Ter ranee, though poor as an editor, was about to marry an heiresser- lne with ninety-three millions! What wonder he yodled with Joy as he sauntered forth to hts bar ber’s to be dolled up for the cere mony that would put him on easy street? "Well!” Terrance exclaimed, when he found his favorite barber shop closed. But he went to the next one. "Huh!” he snorted with disgust, flndlng that shop also closed. Then he wandered across the street to another lonsorlal parlor. "Great snakes!" yelled Terrance, for this place was also cldsed as tight as an Oil King s purse. “The smaller shops will he open," he mused, as he went down a side street. "Why, what the contin ued Terrance, for on this street all the shops were closed. Terrance began to look pallid. 11c stopped twirling hjs malaeca stick and plodded stubbornly up anil down the streets In search of an open harher shop. The sun. like a dying monarch, as the Fourth Header says, waB sinking oelow the horizon, glld.ng 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 the streets. lie has ceased murmuring “Well" REARST’S .SUNDAY AMERICAN, ATLANTA, GA., SUNDAY, MAY 25, 1013. . She Sold Her Soul for an Scene—Home of Young Millionaire and His Wife. Time—Fifty Years from Now—Dinner Hour ,, :V. \*f-*> ' ' ' , Z iUak ill 1 „ ■ ’;«ii i 1 Mf "So tins egg is the price of honor I" I RENE—Half an hour early? HASH/—I’m awfully hungry 1KENK—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 case, a very sad one, too. A man was being tried for killing a hen. IRENE-—And you helped sentence him—to death? „ BASIL—There was nothing else to do. Don t you understand he killed a hen— killed it In cold blood? A man who can do that deserves no pity. (She has taken buttle o) water out of fond safe, half fills glasses, takes very small phial of milk and medicine dropper and drops a little milk in each glass.) IRENE— But his family—•• RASH/- Oh, you women are so sentimental! Have you forgotten that the hen Is the fowl who lays eggsf » IRENE Eggs. Oh! (She turns faint and staggers slightly.) BASIL— Irene—what's the matter? 1 RENE '(recovering)—Nothing—nothing, dear. I’m better now. But wait a minute—I’ve a treat for you to-night. (Hhc takes one cracker from food safe, puts it on platter and sets it before him.) DASH- By .love, dear, but we ore llviug high • n cracker! IRENE And milk— BASH. Milk! A cracker and milk the same day—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- »,lves once In a while, (She closes food safe and locks it. They begin to eat. Ho serves her with half the cracker, takes the rest himself and they eat it with forks. He smacks his lips.) It is delicious. Remember, when we first married we couldn’t have these little luxuries. But, you know, whenever I sit down to a meal like thl* 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. Yon haven't been eating well; why, look there— you’ve hardly touched your dinner! IRENE—I’m not hungry. (She collects the crumbs and puts them on a plate and the plate in the food safe.) 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 he say? (She is silent.) Come—come dear, why don’t you tell me? IRENE—I—I—oh. what’s the use, Bus!!? It—■ BASII.—It's something serious, then? IRENE—Yes. (An exclamation from him.) We—we might as well face it. Basil, the doctor suys 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. BASH/—But—won’t a trip to Europe do—a change of seene? Anything— (Irene sinks in chair.) Why, it’s only two years ago you had au egg—a whole one. I hail to mortgage this house to get It for you. Surely you can’t need another—so soon— IRENE—1 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 yoli how I came to be—this way— BASIL—No, you never told me. Yon 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 It from Europe. You know the effect the taste of a egg has on one—the strange feeling of happi ness that, once felt, enn 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; I know T shouldn’t have married you without telling you of It; but—I loved you, Basil. BASH/—If you had loved me you would have told me. IRENE—Then you won’t—get it—-for me? BASIL (recoiling)—Great heavens, l 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? BASII/—Yes—I—I have a touch of indiges tion. Good night. (Re, 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 ease strapped on his left side, a revolver at his right.) I RENE!— Ha rol d—you 1 HAROI/D (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 E'ood 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 lakes it, puts it in the food safe. He hands her the paper.) Please sign the receipt. (She does so and hands ii 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 Hud 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 touch this case. IRENE!—Why, what does It contain? HAROLD—Hush! (Lowers voice and comes to h-er. whispering.) An egg. IRENE!—An egg! (Btops her mouth with her hand.) HAROLD—Shi 1—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 be 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— (H» 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; ho kisses her; then, realizing what he is, he stands •with bowed head.) Now let me see the egg. (After a m\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 ense. 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. A* she is closing the lid Basil enters. She gives a startled cry and moves away from the toblc, 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 drains his gun.) BASIL (seizing the egg and holding it up)— Shoot and watch It fall. (Harold lowers gun.) IRENE—Basil, how did you know? BASH/—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—Bnsil— Ah! (Gives a shriek as 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? BASH/—Yes, claimed the price. Now pay It i HAROLD—Yes, I’ll pay it; but your punish ment is worse than mine. Through all your Ilf* (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. Thank heaven I havsn’t got that to ^ face! IRENE!—Harold, where are you going? HAROLD—To give myself np. IRKXE—But—It means—death. HAROLD—Yes. Good-by. (He goes out.) 1RKNE (turns to Basil, who is standing mo tionless)—Basil, I—I didn’t mean to—[ was mud—the sight of It—the knowledge that It was here—In 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. I RENE—You—mea n ? BASIL—You have betrayed me—for an egg. 1RE!NE—Walt, you needn’t go I’ll go now— to-night. BASH.—Very well. (Irene, starts to roll up the t ug on which the egg Is lying.) Irene, have you no shame? You would take It even now, after wliat 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 it, 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 gtveu to me—given to me when I was a little, defenseless child— j 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 it to me when I was young, Basil—when I was young. (He doesn’t move. She turns and exits sob bing. carrying the rug in her arms. He sinks / into the chair, his face in his hands.) CURTAIN. Our Debating Society Wonders of the Universe By E2 223 Anthony H. Euwer Cop>ri*ht. 1913. by t.b» Star Oompsax Great Briuln Sight. Ri»/tts4. Copyright, 1913, by the Star Company. Great Britain Rights Reserves. and “Huh.” Long ago he began talking sterner stuff. Now, when ever he finds a closed barber shop the people sniff and think the board of health is fumigating some nouse with brimstone. It is only the remarks of Terrance. The little birds have ceased their twittering, the -mi has set, the stars are- pee'ping out, one by one, and still our hero plods. At last, with a cry of joy, Ter rance finds a barber shop that la open. He rushes In. "Quickly," he gasps, “a shave and hair trim; I am In a hurry; 1 am to be married in twenty minutes!’’ The barber scurries around. Here 1* a big tip. He lathers our hero's countenance and has care fully removed the growth from one tide when three forms enter. They say something in Italian. The little barber listens, then he grins, then he wipes his razor, places it in his pocket and says to Terrance: “Meester wool oblige by go; 1 losa da shop.” "But you haven't finished. I’m nly half shaved I ’’ “Da strike a. I am order to stop. Da commit just-a get aroun’ to ■ i«. Ver’ sorry ” "Do you mean to tell me, you ■ wed-off son of—er er Very ell!” and sobbing hysterically . Arrance staggered out. The committee had surrounded :n and were nonchalantly ex lining a collection of weapons, 1 iluding stilettos and automatic ’/Olvera, which explains why tie t interest In his conversation d fled. But she loves me—she will wed ns i am! I cannot keep her ■lting!" he told himself, and he rried to the home of his hvdress. Put that maniac out. dooms!" >red the lady wit ; the ninety. • tree m.llions. Do you not know me. Penel- ■T" be besought her ’T am r Terrance, your .belovef*. your anced. 1 should ha ’’ You should worry!" haughtily . (aimed Pei. 1 : I have Just -JifaSi .Us Oval (Conducted hy Prof. Ora Torrie) (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 I” Next week It may bo something else again.) W 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— j that is, the feminine finger nail on the head of the I hammer. Down through the ages since the time Mother Eve designed her celebrated skirtlet with the aid of a few fig leaves and a bunch of crab-apple thorns, It has been woman's sphere to do the sewing for the family. Just as It has beeu 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 w-ould endanger his soul and his body attempting to sew- on buttons. He might prick bis thumb and get tetanus- that’s the body danger— j and it's safe to assert he would use a line of unexpurgated lan guage when he pricked his thumb that would endanger the safety of 1 his soul. It may- not be quite right for a woman to drive a nail. We \re not attempting to prove it is. 6ur duty is to prove that it Is much worse for a man to attempt to sew on a button. Suppose a woman does try to drive a nail? When she pounds her fingers there are only three things that can happen If she is devoutly religious she will probably say. "Oh, Dear!" If she is just an average woman she will hop tip and down and prob ably say, "Oh. Darn!’ but if she is a really quick- temper, d, highly strung, sensitive woman, she will throw the hammer through the window and clinch her teeth and say nothing that can be heard. And there you are. But when poor r an essays to sew on a button It i takes him fifteen minutes to learn that the eye of the j needle is not on the same end as the point. During this time he will have expressed himself freely ou several topics Next he will lab the threaded needle through the i ;te, pu' the hutton’ov, r ;h n needle and yank. The t iicuR is his .. i in >..11 lb out full length, the button will fall to the floor and he will have to try again. After several attempts at this. It 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 to 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 It 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 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 shelf 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 holding-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 his business. Inasmuen as woman generally and almost Imme diately gets that wad of currency, she has no excuse for not sewing on the button There are few crimes as hideous, pitiful, and shock r.e as that of the woman who allows man to cow ou ills o»n buttons. 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 having 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 UBe, approach the Instrument fearlessly, addressing the talk-hole quite Informally with the Hello, L- this Nineveh? Well send a whaler to Lat. 44.23, 80.U7. 1'ia ail in." salutation, “Hello!" Do not try to talk to people who have no phone— It takes at least two to make a phono 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. Oub line your dilemmh 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. When 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 be asked under any circumstances. There are Telephone centrals and Hotelephone centrals. To kold her Job, an Hotelephone central must be able to look very beautiful. At thej 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 as 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 Wall 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 your conversation prove dry or uninteresting. What 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 kidnapped 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, might have lived to become a dear old granny herself and tell the events of that terrible day to her own grand and great grand children. \ But no, now that 1 think of it. perhaps 'tis just as well we didn't o Jt sconer history would have beeu utterly ruined with a t<?lei>hone.