Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 284, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 November 1912 — EXCUSE ME! [ARTICLE]

EXCUSE ME!

By Rupert Hughes

Copyrtyht, UU, hy H. X. Fljr 00. 24 SYNOPSIS. ! 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 LatlTrop. a Yankee business man. The elopers have an exciting time getting to the , train. "Little Jimmie” Wellington, bound for Reno to get a divorce, boards train In maudlin condition. Inter Mrs. Jimmie appears. She is also bound for Reno with same object. Likewise Mrs. Sammy Whitcomb. Latter blames Mrs. Jimmie for her 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 ot 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 oachelor, discovers an old sweetheart, Annie Gattle. a fellow passenger. Mallory vainly hunts for a preacher among 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. Sight 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. Dr. Temple puzzled by behavior of different couples. Marjorie’s jealousy aroused by Mallory’s baseball jargon. Marjorie suggests wrecking the train In hopes that accident will produce a preacher. Also tries to Induce the conductor to hold the train so she can shop. Marjorie’s dog Is missing. She pulls the cord, stopping the train. Conductor restores dog and lovers quarrel. Lathrop wires for a preacher to marry him and Miss Gattle. Mallory tells Lathrop of his predicament and arranges to borrow' the preacher. Kitty Lewellyn, former sweetheart of Mallory’s, appears and arouses Marjorie’s jealousy. Preacher boards train. After marrying Lathrop and Miss Gattle the preacher escapes Mallory by leaping from moving train. Mallory's dejection moves Marjorie to reconctlation. The last day on the train brings to Mallory the fear of missing his transport

CHAPTER XXXlll.—Continued. Mallory put out his hand: "Would you be kind enough to lend me your razor again this morning!?” “Sure thing,” said Ashton. “You'll find your blade in the box there.” Mallory then negotiated the loan of one more fresh shirt from the Englishman, and a clean collar from Ashton. He rejoiced that the end of the day would bring him in touch with his own baggage. Four days of foraging on the country was enough for this soldier. Also he felt, now that he and Marjorie had lived thus long, they could survive somehow till evening brought them to San Francisco, where there were hundreds of ministers. And then the conductor must ruin his early morning optimism, though he made his appearance in the washroom with genial good mornings for all. Mallory acknowledged the greeting, and asked offhandedly: “By the way, how’s she running?” - v The conductor answered even more offhandedly: “About two hours late — and losin’.” Mallory was transfixed with a new fear: “Good Lord, my transport sails at sunrise.” “Oh, we ought to make ’Frisco by midnight, anyway.” “Midnight, and sail at daylight!” . “Unless we lose a little more time." Mallory realized that every new day managed to create its own anxieties. With the regularity of a milkman, each morning left a fresh crisis on his doorstep.

CHAPTER XXXIV. The Complete Divorcer. The other passengers were growing nervous with their own troubles. The next stop was Reno, and in spite ot all the wit that is heaped upon the town, it is a solemn place to those who must go there in purgatorial penance for matrimonial error. Some honest souls regard such di-vorce-emporiums as dens of evil, where the wicked make a mockery ot the sacrament and assail the foundations of society, *by undermining the home. Other equally honest souls, believing that marriage is a hqman institution whose mishaps and mistakes should be rectified as far as possible, regard the divorce courts as cities of refuge for ill-treated or Illmated women and men whose lives may be saved from utter ruination by tbe Intervention of high-minded Judges. Bat, whichever view Is right, the ordeal fiy divorce is terrifying enough to the poor sinners or martyrs who must undergo it. Little Jimmie Wellington turned pale, and stammered, as he tried to ask the conductor casually: 1 “What kind of a place Is that Reno?" The conductor, somewhat cynical from close association with the di-

Novclixad from the Comedy of the Same Name

ILLUSTRATED Fraa Pbotoirmpb* es the Play »»Produced By Henry W. Savafta

Torce-mill and Its grist, grinned: ‘That depends on what you’re leay log ‘behind. Most folks seem to get enough of it in about six months.” * Then he went his way, leaving Wellington red, agape and perplexed. The trouble with Wellington was that he had brought along what he was learing behind. Or, as Ashton impudently observed: “You ought tb enjoy your residence there, Wellington, with your wife on hand.” The only repartee that Wellington could think of was a rather uninspired: “You go to —” —• ' - “So tong as it isn’t laughed, and walked away. Wedgewood laid a sympathetic hand on Little Jimmie’s shoulder, and said: “That Ashton Is no end of a bounder, what?” Wellington wrote his epitaph in these words: “Well, the worst I can say of him Is, he’s the kind of man that doesn’t lift the plug out when he’s through with the basin.” He liked this so well that he wished he had thought of it in time to crack it over Ashton’s head. He decided to hand it to him anway. He forgot that the cardinal rule for repartee, is “Better never than late.” As he swung out of the men’s room he was buttonholed by an individual new to the little Trans-American colony. One of the camp-followers and sutlers who prosper round the edges of all great enterplses had waylaid him on the way to the battleground of marital freedom. The stranger had got on at an earlier stop and worked his way through the train to the car named “Snowdrop.” Wellington was his first victim here. His pushing manner, the almost vulture-like rapacity of his gleaming eyes, and the Very vulturine contour of his profile, his palmy gestures, his thick lisp, and everything about him gave Wellington his immediate pedigree. It ill behooves Christendom to need reminding that the Jewish race has adorned and still adorns humanity writh some of Its noblest specimens; but this interloper was of the type that must have irritated Voltaire into answering the platitude that the Jews are God’s chosen people with that other platitude, ‘‘Tastes differ.” Little Jimmie Wellington, hot in pursuit., of. Ashton, found himself checked-in spite of himself; in spite of himself deposited somehow into a seat, and in spite of himself confronted with a curvilinear person, who said: 1 "Excoose, pleass! but are you gettink off at R-r-reno?” “I am,” Wellington answered, curtly, essaying to rise, only to be delicately restored to his place with a gesture and a phrase: , “Then you neet me.” “Oh, I heed you, do I? And who are you?” “Who ain’t I? I am Baumann and Blumen. Our cart, pleass.” Wellington found a pasteboard In his hand and read the legend:

Wellington looked from the crowded card to the zealous face. “Divorce Outfitters, eh? I don’t quite get you." “Veil, in the foist place—” “ ‘The foist place,’ eh? You’re from New York.” f "Yes, oritchinally. How did you know it? By my feshionable clothink?” “Yes,” laughed Wellington. “But you say I need you. How?” “Veil, you’ve got maybe some beggetch. some trunks —yes?” “Yes.” “Veil, in the foist place, I am an expressman. I delivej ’em to your address —yes? Vere iss it?” “I haven’t got any yet.” “Also I am addressman. Do you vant it a nice hotel? —or a fine house? —or an apartment?—or maybe a boarding-house? —yes? How long do you make a residence?” “Six months.” “No longer?” “Not a minute.” “Take a fine house, den. I got some beauties just wacated.” “For a year?—no thanks.” “All the leases in Reno run for six months only.” “Well, I’d like to look-around a little first.” “Good. ■ Don’t forget us. You come out here for six months. You vant maybe a good quick divorce —yes?” “The quickest I can get." "Do you vant it confidential? or very nice and noisy?” "What’s that?” , “Ve are press agents and also suppress agents. Some likes ’em one way, some likes ’em anudder. Vich do you vant it?” “Quick and quiet.” “Painless divorce is our specialty. If you pay me an advence deposit now, I file your claim de minute de train stops and your own vise don't know you’re divorced.” “I’ll think it over," said Wellington, rising With resolution. “Don’t forget us. Baumann and ’ Blumen. Satisfaction guaranteed or your wife refunded* Avoid substltoots." And then, seeing that he could not extract any cash frotn Little Jimmie, \ Mr. Baumann descended upon Mallory, who was Just finishing hls v shave. Laying bis hand on Mallory’s arm, he began: “Excoose, pleass. Can I fit you out ▼it a nice divorce?” “Divorce? me! that’s good," laughed Mallory at the vision of it.

Then a sudden idea struck him. It took no gre£t genius to see that Mr. Baumann was not a clergyman, but there were'other marriers to be had. “You don’t perform marriages, do you?” he asked. Mr. Baumann —drew hfcaselY-njH "Who says I don't? Ain’t I a Justice at the peaces Mallory put out his hand in welcome: then a new -anxiety chilled him. He had a license for Chicago, but Chicago was far away: “Do I need a license in Nevada?” “Why shouldn’t-you?” said Mr. Baumann. “Don’t all sorts of things got to have a license in Nevada, saloons, husband s, dogs—” r ~ “How could I get one?” Mallory asked as he went on dressing. “Ain’t I got a few vit me? Do you vant to get a nice re-marriage license?’’ “Re-marriage ?—huh! ” he looked round, and, seeing that no one else was near: “I haven’t taken the iirgt step yet.” Mr. Baumann laved his hands in one another: “A betchelor? Ah, I see you vant to marry a nice divorcee lady in R-r-reno?” “She Isn’t In Reno and she has never been married, either.” This simple statement seemed to astound Mr. Baumann: “A betcheller marry a maiden! —in Reno!—oi, 01, oi! It hasn’t been done yet, but it might be.” Mallory looked him over and s twinge of distaste disturbed him: “You furnish the license, but —er — ah —is there any chance of a clergyman —a Christian clergyman—being at the station ?” “Vy do you vant it a clolgymanT Can’t I do it just as good? Or a nice fat alderman I can get you?” Mallory pondered: “I don’t think she’d like'anything but a clergyman.” “Veil,” Baumann confessed, “a lady is liable to be particular about her foist marriage. Anyvhy I sell you de license.” — “A&l right.” Mr. Baumann whipped out a portfolio full of documents, and as he searched them, philosophized: “A man ought alvays to carry a good mar. riage license. It might be he should need it in a hurry.” He took a large iron seal from his side-pocket and stamped the paper and then, w-ith fountain pen poised, pleaded: "Vat is the names, pleass?” "~~ “Not so loud!” Mallory whispered. Baumann put his finger to his nose, wisely: “I see. It Is a confidential marriage. Sit down once.” When he had asked Mallory the necessary questions and taken his fee, he passed over the document by which the sovereign state of Nevada graciously permitted two souls to be made more or less one in the eyes ol the law. “Here you are,” said Mr. Baumann. “Vit dat you can get married anyvere in Nevada.” Mallory realized that Nevada would be' a thing of the past in a few hours more and he asked: —“lt’s no good in California?” “Hlmmel, no. In California you bot’ gotta go and be examined.” “Examined!” Mallory gasped, In dire alarm. “Vit questions, poissonally,” Mr. Baumann hastened to explain. “Oh!” “In Nevada,” Baumann insinuated, still hopeful, “I could mary you my-? self—now, right here.” “Could you marry us in this smoking room?” “In a cattle egr, if you vant it.” “It’s not a bad idea,” said Mallory. “I’ll let you know.” Seeing Marjorje coming down the aisle, he hastened to her, and hugged her good-morning with a new confidence. Dr. and Mrs. Temple, who had turned to their bertH, witnessed this greeting with amazement. After the quarrel of the night before surely some explanation should have, been overheard, but the puzzling Mallorys flew to each other’s arms without a moment’s delay. The mystery was exciting the passengers to such a point that they were vowing to ask a few questions point Nobody had quite dared to approach either of them, but frank curiosity was preferable to nervous prostration, and the secret could not be kept much longer. Fellow-passengers have some rights. Not even a stranger can be permitted to outrage their' curiosity with impunity forever. (TO BE CONTINUED.)