Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 263, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 November 1912 — EXCUSE ME! [ARTICLE]

EXCUSE ME!

By Rupert Hughes

Novelbed from the Comedy of the Some Name ILLUSTRATED Tr*m Photograph* of Oil Ptajr uniduri Br B*iry W. Savaga

, Oagrrigbt, nu, by tL K. Hy 00. \ IS BYNOPBIS. -Lieut. Barry Mallory la ordered to the Philippi nee. He and Marjorie Newton decide to elope, but wreck of taxicab prerents their seeing minister on the tray to the train. Transcontinental train Is taking on passengers. Porter has a lively time with an Englishman and Ira Lathrap, a Yankee business man. The elopers Save an exciting time getting to the train. “Little Jimmie" Wellington, bound for Reno to get a divorce, boards train tb maudlin condition. Later Mrs. Jimmie appears. She Is also bound for Reno with same object Likewise Mrs. Sammy Whitoomb. Latter blames Mrs. Jimmie for bar marital troubles. Classmates of Mallory decorate bridal berth. Rev. and Mrs. Temple start on a vacation. They decide to out loose and Temple removes evidence of his calling. Marjorie decides to let Mallory proceed alone, but train starts while they are lost in farewell. Passengers Join Mallory’s classmates In giving couple wedding basing. Marjorie Is distracted. 0a Lathrop, woman-hating bachelor, discovers an gld'Nßweetheart, Anne Gattle. a fellow passehfeer. Mallory vainly hunts for apreacher among the passengers. Mrs. Wellington hears Little Jimmie’s voice. Later she meets ICrs. Whitcomb. Mallory reports to MarSrte his failure to find a preacher. They >cide to pretend a quarrel and Mallory Orids a vacant berth. Mrs. Jimmie discovers Wellington on the train. Mallory again makes an unsuccessful hunt for a preacher. Dr. Temple poses as a physician. Mrs. -Temple is Induced by Mrs. Wellington io smoke a cigar. Bight of preacher on a station platform raises Mallory's hopes, but he takes another train. Missing hand baggage compels the couple to borrow from passengers. Jimmie gets a cinder in his eye and Mrs. Jimmie gives first-aid. Coolness Is then resumed. Still no clergyman. More borrowing. V CHAPTER XXll—(Continued). He felt that he was the greatest sinner on* earth, but worst of all was the [act that when he had fallen, the forbidden brew was not sweet He was inexperienced enough to sip it and it was like fohmlng quinine on his palate. But he kept at it from sheer shame, and his luxurious transgression was its own punishment The, doleful Mallory was on his way to Join the “club.” Crossing the vestibule he had met the conductor, and had ventured to quiz him along the old lines: "Excuse he, haven't yon taken any clergymen on board this train yet?" “Devil a one.” “Don’t you ever carry any preachers on this road?" “Usually we get one or two: Last trip we carried a whole Methodist convention." “A whole convention last trip! Just my luck!” The unenlightened conductor turned to call back: “Say, up in the forward car we got a couple of undertakers. They be of any use to you?" j “Not yet” Then Mallory dawdled on into the smoking room, where he found his own porter, who explained that he pad been “promoted to the bottlery." “Do we come to a station stop Mallory asked. “Well, not for a considerable lnter)val. Do you want to get out and walk bp and down?" j "I don’t,” said Mallory, taking from (under his coat Snoozleums, whom he smuggled past the new conductor. •“Meanwhile, Porter, could ’ you give him something to eat to distract >*lmr

The porter grinned, and picking up ft bill of fare held It out “I got a tneennel. It ain’t written In dog, but you can explain It to him. What would go’ canine deslah, sah?” Snoozleums put out a paw and Mallory read what It indicated: “He says he’d like a filet Chateaubriand, but if you have any old bones, hell take (those.’’ The porter gathered SnoozleUms in and disappeared with him into the buffet, Mallory calling after him: “Don’t let the conductor see him." Dr. Temple advanced on the disconsolate youth with an effort at cheer: “How is our bridegroom this fceautifnl afternoon?" •. Mallory glanoed at his costume: *1 led like a rainbow gone wrong. Just my luck to have to borrow from everybody. Look at me! This collar of Mr. Wellngton’s makes me feel like apeanulJn a rubber tire.” He turned to Fosdlck. “I say, Mr. Fosdlck, what size collar do you wear?" "Fourteen and a half," said Fosdlck. "Fourteen and a half! —why don’t you get a neck? You haven’t got a plain white shirt, have you? Our RngUsh friend lent me this, but it’s purple, and Mr. Ashton’s socks are maroon., and this peacock blue tie Is very unhappy." "I think I can fit you out," said Fosdlck. "And If you had an eatra pair of socks,” Mallory pleaded—"just one ndr of unemotional socks." show you my repertoire." f "All right, 111 see you later." Then Jha went op to Wellington, with much thaaftnnrs of manner. "By the way, llgE. JWellla*ton, do_yp* O»PiK2iaJMrA [Wellington could lend Misa—Mrs.— MOUld lend Marjorie some—some —" i WeWngtoo waved him aalda with

magnificent scorn: “I am no longer in Mrs. Wellington’s confidence.” "Oh, excuse me," said Mallory. He had noted that the Wellingtons occupied separate compartments, but for all he knew their reason was as romantic as his own. CHAPTER XXIII. Through a Tunnol. Mrs. Jimmie Wellington, who had traveled much abroad and learned in England the habit of smoking in the corridors of expensive hotels, had acquired also the habit, as travelers do, of calling England freer than America. She determined ’to do her share toward the education of her native country, and chose, for her topic, tobacco as a feminine accomplishment She had grown Indifferent to stares and audible •comment and she could fight a protesting head waiter to a standstill. If monuments and tablets are ever erected to the first woman who smoked publicly In this place or that, Mrs. Jimmie Wellington will be variously remembered and occupy a large place in historical record. The narrow confines of the women’s room on the sleeping car soon palled on her, and she objected to smoking there except when she felt the added luxury of keeping some other woman outside —fuming, but not smoking. And now Mrs. Jimmie bad staked out a claim on the observation platform. She sat there, puffing like a majorgeneral, and In one portion of 'Nebraska two farmers fell off their agricultural vehicles at the sight of her cigar-smoke trailing after the train. In Wyoming three cowboys followed her for a mile, yipping and howling their compliments. Feeling the smoke mood coming on, Mrs. Wellington invited Mrs. Temple to smoke with her, but Mrs. Temple felt a reminiscent qualm at the very thought, so Mrs. Jimmie sauntered out alone, to the great surprise of Ira Lathrop, whose motto was, "Two heads are better than one,” and who was apparently willing to wait till Anne Gattle’s head grew on his shoulder. “I trust I don’t Intrude,” Mrs. Wellington said. "Oh, no. Oh, yes.” Anne gasped In fiery confusion as she fled Into the car, followed by the purple-faced Ira, who slammed the door with a growl: “That Wellington woman would break up anything.” The prim little missionary toppled Into the nearest chair: “Oh, Ira, what will she think?” “She can’t think!” Ira grumbled. "In a little while she’ll know.” “Don’t you think we’d better tell everybody before they begin to talk?” Ira glowed with pride at the thought and murmured with all the ardor of a senile Romeo: “I suppose so, ducky darling. I’ll break it —1 mean I’ll tell It to the men, and you tell the women." “All right, dear, I’ll obey you," she answered, meekly. “Obey me!” Ira laughed with boyish swagger. "And you a missionary!” “Well, I’ve converted one heathen, anyway," said Xnne as she darted down the corridor, followed by Ira, who announced his intention to “go to the baggage car and dig up his old Prince Albert.” In their flight forward they passed the mysterious woman in the stateroom. They were too full of their own mystery to give thought to hers. Mrs. Fosdlck went timidly prowling toward the observation car, suspecting everybody to be a spy, as Mallory suspected everybody to be a clergyman in disguise. As she stole along the corridor past th*e men's cluhroom she saw her husband —her here-and-there husband —wearily counting the telegraph posts and summing them up Into miles. She tapped on the glass and signalled to him, then passed on. He answered with a look, then pretended not to have noticed, and waited a few moments before he rose with an elaborate air of carelessness. He beckoned the porter and said: “Let me know the moment we enter Utah, will you?” “Yassah. We’ll be cornin’ along right soon now. We got to pass through the big Aspen tunnel, after that, befo’ long, we splounce into old Utah.” “Don’t forget," said Fosdlck, as he sauntered out. Ashton perked up his ears at the promise of a tunnel and kept his eye on his watch. Fosdick entered the observation room with a hungry look in his luscious eyes. His now-and-then wife put up a warning finger to indicate Mrs. Whitcomb’s presence at the writing desk. Fosdick’s smile froze into a smirk of formality and he tried to chill his tone as If he were speaking to a total stranger. “Good afternoon." Mrs. Fosdlck answered with equal ice: “Good afternoon. Won’t you sit down?” “Thanks. Very picturesque scenery, Isn’t it?” ‘lsn’t It?” Fosdlck seated himself, looked about cautiously, noted that Mrs. Whitcomb was apparently absorbed In her letter, then lowered his voice confidentially. His face kept up a strained pretense of indifference, but his whisper was passionate with longing: • — : ~ . —J — : “Has my poor little wlfey missed her poor old hubby?" “Oh, so much!" she whispered. “Has poor little hubby missed his poor old wife?” “Horribly. Was she lonesome in that dismal stateroom all* by herself r ■ "Oh, so miserabteT I can't stand It much lodger.” Fosdick’s faoe biased with, good

news: “In Just a little while we come to the Utah line—then we’re safe.'' “God bless Utah!” The rapture died from her face as she caught sight of Dr. Temple, who happened to stroll In and go to the bookshelves, and taking out a book happened to glance near-sightedly her way. “Be careful of that man, dearie,” Mrs. Fosdlck hissed out of one side of her mouth. "He’s a very strange character.” Her husband was infected with her own terror. He asked, huskily: “What do you think he is?” “A detective! I’m sure he’s watching us. He followed you right In here." “We’ll be very cautious—till we get to Utah.” * The old clergyman, a little fuzzy In brain from..hla debut In beer, contlnued innocently to confirm the appearance of a detective by drifting aimlessly about. He was looking for his wife, but he kept glancing at the uneasy Fosdlcks. He went to the door, opened it, saw Mrs. Wellington finishing a cigar, and retreated precipitately. Seeing Mrs. Temple wandering In the corridor, he motioned hqr to a chair near the Fosdlcks and she sat by his side, wondering at his filmy eyeß. The Fosdlcks, glancing uncomfortably at Dr. Temple, rose and selected other chairs further away. Then Roger Ashton sauntered In, his eyes searching for a proper companion through the tunnel. * He saw Mrs. Wellington returning from the platform, just tossing away her cigar and blowing out the last of Its grateful vapor. With an effort at sarcasm, he went to her and offered her one of his own cigars, smiling: “Have another.” She took it, looked it over, and parried his irony with a formula she had heard men use when they hate to refuse a gift-cigar: “Thanks. I’ll smoke it after dinner, If you don’t mind.” “Oh, I don’t mind,” he laughed, then bending closer he murmured: "They tell me we are coming to a tunnel, a nice, long, dark, dismal tunnel.” Mrs. Wellington would not take a dare. She felt herself already emancipated from Jimmie. So&he answered Ashton’s hint with a laughing challenge: “How nice of the conductor to arrange it.” y Ashton smacked his lips over the prospect. And now the porter, having noted Ashton’s impatience to reach the tunnel, thought to curry favor and a quarter by announcing its approach. He bustled in and made straight for Ashton Just as the tunnel announced itself with a sudden swoop of gloom, a great Increase of the train-noises and a far-off clang of the locomotive belj. Out of the Egyptian darkness came the unmistakable sounds of osculation in various parts of the room. Doubtless, it was repeated In other parts of the train. There were numerous cooing Bounds, too, but nobody spoke except Mrs. Temple, who was heard to murmur: “Oh, Walter, dear, what makes your breath so funny!” Next came a little yowl of pain in Mrs. Fosdick’s voice, and then daylight flooded the car with a rush, as If time had made an Instant leap from midnight to noon. There were interesting disclosures. Mrs. Temple was caught with her arms round the doctor’s neck, and she blushed like a spoony girl. Mrs. Fosdlck was trying to disengage her hair from Mr. Fosdick’s scarf-pin. Mrs. Whitcomb alone was deserted. Mr. Ashton was gazing devotion at Mrs. Wellington and trying to tell her with his eyes how velvet he had found her cheek. But she was looking reproachfully at him from a chair, and saying, not without regret: “I heard everybody kissing everybody, but I was cruelly neglected.” Ashton’s eyes widened with unbelief, he heard a snicker at his elbow, and whirled to find the porter rubbing his black velvet cheek and writhing with pent-up laughter. (TO BE CONTINUED.)