Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 236, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 October 1912 — EXCUSE ME! [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

EXCUSE ME!

By Rupert Hughes

Novelised treat th* C*srody *f th* Seats N*sro ILLUSTRATED Fr*a Pbo*o*r»*ha *f tin Play aa Produced By Henry W. Savage

Ouwrtglrt. uu, by H. K. Fly O*. I SYNOPSIS. Lieut. Harry Mallory ia ordered to the Philippines. He and Marjorie Newton decide to elope, but wreck of taxicab prevents their seeing minister on the way to th* train. Transcontinental train Is taking on passengers. Porter has a lively tine with an Englishman and Ira Lathrop, a Yankee business man. CHAPTER tl. (Continued.) He resigned himself to the despot, and began to transfer bls burdens to th* seat. But he did nothing to the satisfaction of the Englishman. Everything must be placed otherwise; the catch-all here, the portmanteau there, the Gladstone there, the golf sticks there, the greatcoat there, the raincoat there. The porter was puffing like a donkey-engine, and mutiny was growing In his heart. His last commission was the hanging up of the bowler hat. He stood on the arm of the seat to reach the high hook. From here he paused to glare down with an attempt at Irony. "Is they anything else?" "No. You may get down." The magnificent patronage of this wilted the porter completely. He returned to the lower level, and shuffled along .the aisle in- a trance. Ho was quickly recalled by a sharp: “Pawtab!” "Yassah!" “What time does this bally train start?”

“Ten-thutty, sah." “But It's only ten now.” “Yassah. It'll be ten-thutty a little later.” j “Do you mean to tell me that I’ve got to sit hyah for half an hour—Just waitin'?” The porter essayed another bit of irony: “Well,” he drawled, "I might tell the conducts you're ready. And mebbe he’d start the tram. But the timetable says ten-thutty.” He watched the effect of his satire, but ft fell back unheeded from the granite • dome of the Englishman, whose onjy comment was: ‘ “Oh, never mind. I’ll wait." The porter cast bis eyes up in despair, and turned away, once more to be recalled. "Oh, pawtah!” "Yassah!"

“I think we’ll put on my slippabs.” “Will we?’’ “You might hand me that large bag. No, stupid, the othah one. You might open it. No, it’s in the otbah one. Ah, that's it You may set it down.” Mr. Wedgewood brought forth a soft cap and a pair of red slippers. The porter made another effort to escape, his thoughts as black as his face. Again the relentless recall: “Oh, pawtah, I think we’ll unbutton my boots.” f He was too weak to murmur YasBah.’’ He simply fell on one knee and got to work. There was a witness to his helpless rage—a newcomer, the American counterpart of the Englishman in all that makes travel difficult for the fellow travelers. Ira Lathrop was zealous to resent anything short of perfection, quick and loud of complaint, apparently impossible to please. In everything else he was the opposite of the Englishman. He was burly, middle-aged, rough, careless in attire, careless of sperech—as uncouth and savage as one can well be who is plainly a man of means. It was not enough that a freeborn Afro-American should be caught kneeling to an Englishman. But when he had escaped this penance, and advanced hospitably to the newcomer, he must be greeted with a snarl. “Say, are you the porter of this car, or that man's nurse V “I can't tell yet. What’s yo* numbs, please V > . ■ The answer was the ticket. “Numbs se’m. Hesh she is, boss.” “Right nextXo a lot of women, I'll bet. Couldn’t you put me In the men's end of the car?’’ “Not ve’y well. sub. 1 reckon the eah la done) sold out." ± _ With a growl of rage.' Ira Lathrop slammed into the seat his entire hand hnggsae one ancient and rusty valise. The porter gazed upon him with increased depression. The passenger list had opened inauspiciously with .two of the worst types of travelers the Aaglo-Raxon race has developed. “But their anger was not their worst trait in the porter's eyes. He was, in a limited way, an expert in human character When you meet a stranger you reveal yow* o* l character in what you ask about his. With some, the finbt qnaation la. "Who are his people?" With others; "What has he achieved?" With Others, “How much izheworthr’ Bach gauges fats cordiality according The porter was not curious cm any

cd tbese point*. He showed a demo- < mtlc indifference to them. His on* pttal Inquiry was: "How much will he tip?”

His Inspection of bls first two ebarges promised small returns. He buttoned up his cordiality, and determined to waste upon them the Irreducible minimum of attention.

It would take, at least a bridal couple to retsore the balance. But bridal couples In their first bloom rarely fell to the lot of that porter, for what bridal couple wants to lock Itself in with a crowd of passengers for the first seventy-two hours of wedded bliss?

The porter banished the hope as a vanity. Little he knew how eagerly th* young castaways from that wrecked taxicab deslre<Fto be a bridal couple, and to catch this train. But the Englishman was restlv* again:

"Pawtah! I say, pawtah!” “Yassah!" “What time are we due in San Francisco?”

“San Francisco? San Francisco? We. are doo thah the evenin’ of the fo’th day. This bein’ Monday, that ought to bring us In abote Thuzzday Ovenin’.” The Yankee felt called upon to check the foreign usurper. “Porrterr!” "Yassah!” “Don’t let that fellow monopolize you. He probably won’t tip you at all.” The porter grew confidential: “Oh, I know his kind, sah. They don’t tip you for what you do do, but they’re ready letter Writers to the Sooperintendent for what you don’t do.” „ . ...

“Pawtah! I say, pawtah!” “Here, porrterr.” The porter tried to Imitate the Irish bird, and be In two places at once. The American had a coin In bls hand. The porter caught the gleam of it, and flitted thither. The Yankee growled: “Don’t forget that I’m on the train, and when we get to ’Frisco there may be something more.” The porter had the coin in his hand. Its heft was light. He sighed: “I hope so.” x The Englishman wqs craning bls head around owllshly to ask: “I say,, pawtah, does this train ever get wrecked?” “Well, it hasn’t yet,” and he murmured to the Yankee, “but I has hope*.” The Englishman’s voice was queruous again.

“I say, pawtah, open a window, will you? The air is ghastly, abso-rlpping-luteiy ghastly.” The Yankee growled: “No wonder we had the Revolutionary war!” Then he took from his pocket an envelope addressed to Ira Lathrop & Co., and from the envelope he took a contract, and studied it grimly. The envelope bore a Chinese stamp. The porter, as he struggled with an obstinate window, wondered what sort of passenger fate would send him next.

CHAPTER 111. In Darkest Chicago. The castaways from the wrecked taxicab hurried along the doleful street. Both of them knew their Chicago, but this part of It was not their Chicago. They hailed a pedestrian, to ask where the nearest street car line might be, and whither it might run. He answered Indistinctly from a discreet distance, as he hastened away. Perhaps he thought their question merely a footpad’s introduction to a sandbagging episode. In Chicago at night one never knows.

“As near as I can make out what he said, Marjorie," the lieutenant pondered aloud, “we walk straight ahead till we come to Umptyump street, and there we find a Rarara car that will take us to Bloptyblop avenue. 1 never heard of any such streets, did you?”

“Never/’ she panted, as she jogtrotted alongside his military pace. "Let’s take the first car we meet, and perhaps the conductor can put us off at the street where the minister lives.”

"Perhaps.” There was not much confidence In that “perhaps.” When they reached the street-carred street, they found two tracks, but nothing occupying them, as far as they could peer either way. A small shopkeeper in a tiny shop proved to be a delicatessen merchant so busily selling foreign horrors to aliens, that they learned nothing from him. At length, in the far-away, they made out a headlight, and heard the grind and squeal of a car. Lieutenant Mallory waited for it, watch in hand. He boosted Marjorle-s elbow aboard and bombarded the conductor with questions. But the conductor had no more heard of their street than they had of his. Their agitation did not disturb his stoic calm, but he invited them to come along to the next crossing, where they could find another car and more learned conductors; or, what promised better, perhaps a cab. He threw Marjorie into a panic by ordering her to jettison Snoozleums, but the lieutenant bought his soul for a small price, and overlooked the fact that he did not ring up their fares.,. The young couple squeezed into a seat' and talked anxiously in sharp whispers. -Wouldn’t it be terrible, Harry,*lf, just as we got to the minister’s, we should find papa there ahead of us, waiting to forbid the bands, or whatever it is? Wouldn’t it be just terrible?" * . { V '

“Yea, it would, honey, but it doesn’t seem probable. There are thousands of ministers in Chicago. He could never find ours. Fact la. 1

doubt If we find film ourselves.” , Her dutch tightened till he would have winced, if he had not been ■ soldier. “What do you mean, Harry?” “Well, in the first place, honey, look what time it Is. Hardly more than time to get the train, to say nothing of hunting for that preacher and standing up through a long rigmarole.” "Why, Harry Mallory, are you getting ready to jilt me?” “Indeed I’m not —not for world*/ honey, but I’ve got to get that traf£s haven’t I?” "Couldn’t you Walt over one train — Just one tiny little train?” "My own, own honey love, you know it’s impossible! You must remember that I’ve already waited over three trains while you tried to make up your mind.” “And you must remember, darling, that it’s no easy matter for a girl to decide to sneak away from home and be married secretly, and go all th* way out to that hideous Manila with no trousseau and no wedding presents and no anything.” “I know it Isn’t, and I waited pa-' tlently while you got up the courage. But now there are no more trains. 1 shudder to think of this train being late. We’re not due in San Francisco till Thursday evening, and my transport sails at sunrise Friday morning. Oh, Lord, what if I should mis* that transport! What if I should!”

“What if we should miss the minister?”

“It begins to look a deal Ilk* it”

“But, Harry, you wouldn’t desert me now—abandon me to my Tate?” “Well, it isn’t exactly like abandonment, seeing that you could go home to your father and mother in a taxicab.”

She stared at him in horror. “So you don’t want me for your You’ve changed your mind! You’re tired of me already! Only an hour together, and you’re sick of your bargain! You’re anxious to get rid of me! You—”

“Oh, honey, I want you more than anything else on earth, but I’m a soldier, dearie, a mere lieutenant in the regular army, and I'm the slave of the government. I’ve gone through West Point, and they me resign respectably and if I did, we’d starve. They wouldn’t accept my resighatlon, but they’d be willing to courtmartlal me and dismiss me from the service in disgrace. Then you wouldn’t want to marry me —and 1 shouldn’t have any way of supporting you if you did. I only know one trade, and that’s soldiering.” "Don’t call it a trade, beloved, it’s the noblest profession in all the world, and you’re the noblest soldier that ever was, and in a year or two you’ll bh the biggest general in the army.” } ' i He could not afford to shatter such a devout illusion or quench the light of faith in those beloved and loving eyes. He tacitly admitted his ability

to be promoted commander-ln-chief In a year or two. He allowed that glittering possibility to remain, used It as-er basis for argument “Then, dearest, you must help me to do my duty.” She clasped his upper arm as if It were an altar and she an Iphigenia about to be sacrificed to save the army. And she murmured with utter heroism: “I will! Do what you like with me!” - *’ He -squeezed her hand between his biceps and his ribs and accepted the offering in a look drenched with gratitude. Then he said, matter-of-factly: “We’ll see how much time we have when we get to —whatever the name of that street is." The car jolted and walled on its way like an old drifting rocking chair. The motorman was in no hurry. The passengers seemed to have no occasion for haste. Somebody got on or got off at almost every corner, and paused for conversation while the car waited patiently. Mallory looked at his watch, and Marjorie’s hopes dropped like a wracked aeroplane, »or he grimly asked how long it would take them to reach the railroad station. ’’Good Lord,'the train starts in twenty minutes!” During this tense journey the girl perfected her soul with graceful martyrdom. '• ‘ •Tit go to the train with you, Harry, and then you can send mo bon*t in a taxicab.” (TO BK CONTLNUJCDJ

The Porter.