Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 267, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 7 November 1912 — EXCUSE ME! [ARTICLE]

EXCUSE ME!

By Rupert Hughes

Novelized from the Comedy of the Same Name ILLUSTRATED From Photographs of tho Ploy as Produced By Henry W. Sarade

Oopjlitfbt, UU, hj H.K. FI7 00. . 13 SYNOPSIS. I Lieut. Harry Mallory Is ordered to the Philippines. He and Marjorie Newton decide to elope, but wreck of taxicab prevents their seeing minister on the way to the train. Transcontinental train is taking on passengers. Porter has a lively time with an Englishman and Ira Lathrop, a Yankee business man. The elopers nave an exciting time getting to the train. “Little Jimmie" Wellington, bound for Reno to get a divorce, boards train In maudlin condition. Later Mrs. Jimmie appears. She is also bound for Reno with same object. Likewise Mrs. Sammy Whitcomb. Latter blames Mrs. Jimmie for Iter marital troubles. Classmates of Mallory decorate bridal berth. Rev. and Mrs. Temple start on a vacation. They decide to cut 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 hazing. Marjorie is distracted. Ira Lathrop, woman-hating bachelor, discovers an old sweetheart, Anne Gattle. a fellow passenger. Mallory vainly hunts for a preacher agiong the passengers. Mrs. Wellington hears Little Jimmie's voice. Later she meets Mrs. Whitcomb. Mallory reports to Marjorie his failure to find a preacher. They decide to pretend a quarrel and Mallory finds 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 to smoke a cigar. ’ " j j CHAPTER XlX—(Continued). ' And a lady who was evidently Mrs. Deacon spoke up: “We’ll miss you terrible. We all say you are the best pastor our church ever had.” —--- Mallory prepared to spring on his prey and drag him to his lair, but Marjorie held him back. “He’s taking our train. Lord bless his dear old sonl.” And Mallory could have hugged him. But he kept close watch. To the rapture of the wedding-hungry twain, the preacher shook hands with such of his flock as had followed him to the station, picked up his valise and walked up to the porter, extending his ticket. But the porter said —and Mallory coud have throttled him for saying it: “’Scuse me, posson, but that’s yo’ train ova yonda. You betta move right smaht, for it’s gettin’ ready to pull out.” With a little shriek of dismay, the parson clutched his valise and set off at a run. Mallory dashed after him and Marjorie after Mallory. They shouted as they ran, but the conductor of the east-bouud train sang but “All aboard!” and swung on. The parson made a sprint and caught the ultimate rail of the moving train. Mallory made a frantic leap at a flying coat-tail and missed. As he and Mafjorle stood gazing reproachfully at the train which was giving a beautiful illustration of the laws of retreating perspective, they heard wild bowls of “Hi! hi!” and “Hay! hay!" and turned to see their own train in 1 motion, and the porter dancing a Zulu step alongside.

CHAPTER XX. Foiled Again. Mallory tucked Marjorie under his arm and Marjorie tucked Snoozleums under hers, and they did a sort of three-legged race down the platform! The porter was pale blue with excitement, and it was with the last gasp of breath in all three bodies that they scrambled up the steps of the only open vestibule. The porter was mad enough to give them a piece of his mind, and they were meek enough to take it without a word of explanation or resentment. And the train sped on into the heart of Nebraska, along the unpoetic valley of the Platte. When lunchtime came, they ate it together, but In gloomy silence. They sat in Marjorie’s berth throughout the appallingly monotonous afternoon in a stupor of disappointment and helpless dejection, speaking little and saying nothing then. Whenever the train stopped, Mallory watched the on-getting passengers with his keenest eye. He had a theory that since most people who looked like preachers were decidedly lay, it might be well to take a gambler’s chance and accost the least ministerial person next So, In his frantic anxiety, he selected a horsey-looking individual who got on at North Platte. ,He looked so much like a rawhided ranchman that Mallory stole up on him and asked him to'excuse him, but did he happen to be a clergyman? The man replied, by asking Mallory if he happened to be a Pea-bitten maverick, and embellished his question with a copious flow of the words ministers use, but with L secular arrangement of them. In ;t he split one word in two to insert a double-barrelled curse. All that Mallory could do was to admit tb»* he was a flearbitten what-he-said, and back away. , Alter that, if a vicar in fall uniform had marched down the aisle heading a procession of choir boys,

Mallory would have suspected him. He vowed In his haste that Marjorie might die an old maid before he would approach anybody else on that subject. Nebraska would have been a nice long state for a honeymoon, but Its four hundred-odd miles were a dreary length for the couple so near and yet so far. The railroad clinging to tbise meandering Platte made the way far longer, and Mallory and Marjorie left like Pyramus and Thisbe wandering along an eternal wall, through which they could see, but not reach, one another. * They dined together as dolefully ar if they had been married for forty years. Then the slow twilight soaked them In its melancholy. The porter lighted up the car, and the angels lighed up the stars, but nothing lighted up their hopes. “We’ve got to quarrel again, my beloved,” Mallory groaned to Marjorie. Somehow they were too dreary even to nag one another with an outburst for the benefit of the eager-eyed passengers. * A little excitement bestirred them as they realized that they were confronted with another night-robeless night and a morrow without change of gear. “What a pity that we left our things in the taxicab,” Marjorie sighed. And thiß time she said, “we left them,”4nstead of “you left them.’’ It was very gracious of her, but Mallory did not acknowledge the courtesy. Instead he gave a start and a gasp: “Good Lord, Marjorie, we -never paid the second taxieab!” how shall we ever pay him? He’s been waiting there twenty-four hours. How much do you suppose we .owe him ?” “About a year of my pay, I guess.” “You must send him a telegram of apology and ask him to read his meter. He was such a nice man—the kindest eyes—for a chauffer.” • “But how can I telegraph him? I don’t know his name, or his number, or his company, or anything.” “It’s too bad. He’ll go through life hating us and thinking we cheated him.” “Well, he doesn’t know our names either.” And then they forgot him temporarily for the more immediate need of clothes. All the passengers knew that they had left behind what baggage they had not sent ahead, and much sympathy had been expressed. But most people would rather give you their sympathy than lend you their fclothes. Mallory did not mind the men, but Marjorie dreaded the women. She was afraid of all of them but Mrs. Temple. She threw herself on the little lady’s mercy and was asked to help herself. She borrowed a nightgown of extraordinary simplicity, a shirt waist of an ancient mode, and a number of other things. If there had been anyone there to see she would have made a most anachronistic bride. Mallory canvassed the men and obtained a shockingly purple shirt from Wedge wood, who meant to put him at his ease, but somehow failed when he said in answer to Mallory’s thanks: “God bless my soul, old top, don't you think of thanking me. I ought to thank you. You see, the idiot who makes my shirts, made that by mistake, and I’d be no end grateful if you’d jolly well take the loathsome thing oft my hands. I mean to say, I shoudn’t dream of being seen in it myself. You quite understand,' don’t you ?” Ashton contributed a maroon atrocity in hosiery, with equal tact: “If they fit you, keep ’em. I got stung on that batch of socks. That pair was originally lavender, but they Washed like that Keep ’em. I wouldn’t be found dead in ’em.” The mysterious Fosdick, 'who lived a lonely life in the Observation car and slept in the other sleeper, lent Mallory a pair of pyjamas evidently intended for a bridegroom of romantic disposition. Mallory blushed as he accepted them and when he found himself in them, he whisked out the light, he was so ashamed of himself. Once more the whole car gaped at the unheard of behavior of itsTjewly wedded pair. The poor porter okd been hungry for a bridal couple, ljpfe as he went about gathering up the castoff footwear of his large family and found Mallory’s shoes at number three and Marjorie’s tiny boots at number five, he shook his head and groaned. “Times has suttainly changed for the wuss. If this is a bridal couple, gimme divorcees.” CHAPTER XXI. Matrimony to and Fro. And the next morning they were in Wyoming—Well toward the center of that State. They had left behind the tame levels and the truly rural towns and they were among foothills and mountains, passing cities of wildly picturesque repute, like Cheyenne, and Laramie, Bowie, and Medicine Bow, and Bitter Creek, whose very names imply literature and war whoops, cowboy yelps, barking revolvers, another redskin ’ biting the dust, cattle stampedes, town-paintings, humorous lynchings and bronchos in epileptic frenzy. But the talk of this train was concerned with none of these wonders, which the novelists dnd the magazinist have perhaps a trifle overpubliahed. The talk of this train was concerned with the eighth wonder of the world, a semi-detached bridal couple. Mrs. Whitcomb was eager enough to voice the sentiment of the whole populace, when she looked up from her novel In the observation room and, nudging Mrs. Temple, drawled: “By the way, my dear, has that bridal

couple made up Its second sight's quarrel yet?” , “The Mallorys?” Mrs. Temple flushed as she answered, mercifully. “Oh, yes, they were very friendly again this morning.” ■j Mrs. Whitcomb’s countenance was cynical: “My dear, I’ve been married twice and I ought to know something about honeymoons, but this honeyless honeymoon—” she cast up her eyes and her hands In despair. The women were so concerned about Mr. and “Mrs.” Mallory, that they hardly noticed the uncomfortable plight of the Wellingtons, or the curious behavior of the lady from the stateroom who seemed to be afraid of something and never spoke to anybody. The strange behavior of Anne Gattle and Ira Lathrop even escaped much comment, though they were forever being stumbled on when anybody went out to the observation platform. When they were dislodged from there, they sat playing checkers and talking very little, but making eyes at one another and sighing like furnaces. They had evidently concocted some secret of their own, for Ira, looking at his watch, murmured sentimentally to Anne: “Only a few hours more, Annie,” And Anne turned geranium-color and dropped a handful of checkers. “I don’t know how I can face it.” “Aw, what do you care?” “But I was never married before, Ira,” Anne protested, “and on a train, too.” “Why, all the bridal couples take to the railroads.” “I should think It" would be the last place they’d go,” said Anne —a sensible woman, Anne! “Look at the Mallories —how miserable they are.” “I thought they were happy,” said Ira, whose great virtue it was to pay little heed to what was none of his business. “Oh, Ira,” cried Anne, “I hope we shan’t begin to quarrel as soon as we are married.” “As if anybody could quarrel with you, Anne,” he said. . "Do you think I’ll be so monotonous as that?” she retorted. Her spunk delighted him beyond words. He whispered: “Anne, you’se so gol-d&rned sweet if I don’t get a chance to kiss you, I’ll bust.” “Why, Ira —we’re on the train.” “Da —darn the train! Who ever heard of a fellow proposing and getto a girl and not even kissing her.” ; ’ “But our engagement is so short.” “Well, I’m not going to marry you until I get a kiss.” Perhaps innocent old Anne really believed this blood-curdling threat It brought her instantly to terms, though she blushed: “But everybody’s always looking.” “Come out on the observation platform.” “Oh, Ira, again?” “I dare you.” “I take you—but’’ seeing that Mrs. Whitcomb whs tfying to overhear, she whispered: “Let’s pretend It’s the scenery.” So Ira rose,’ pushed the checkers aside, and said in an unusually positive tone: “Ah, Miss Gattle, won’t you have a look at the landscape?” “Oh, thank you, Mr. Lathrop,” said Anne, “I just love scenery.” They wandered forth like the Sleeping Beauty and her princely awakener, and never dreamed what gigglings and nudgings and wise head-noddings went on back of them. Mrs. Wellington laughed loudest of all at the lovers whose heads - had grown gray while their hearts were still so green. It was shortly after this that the Wellingtons themselves came into prominence In the train life. As the train approached Green River, and its copper-basined stream, the engineer began to set the airbrakes for the stop. Jimmie Wellington, boozily half-awake in the smoking room, wanted to know what the name of the station was. Everybody is always eager to oblige a drunken man, so Ashton and Fosdick tried to get a window open to look out. (TO BE CONTINUED.)