Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 132, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 June 1914 — Page 3

BROADWAY JONES

by EDWRD MARSHALL

FPOMTfIL PLAY O' GEORGLAi.CO/lAN

SYNOPSIS. ■■■ »"»■ Jackson Jones, nicknamed "Broadway** because at his continual glorification of Jonarrilfe. Abner Jones, his unde, is vwnr angry because’ Broadway refuses to mtu< down and take a place in the yum factory in which he succeeded to hie father’s interest Judge Spotswood intOMM Broadway that 1250,000 left him by hts father is at hie disposal. Broadway makes record time in heading: for his torortU street in New York. With hie ««w York friend, Robert wallaoe, Broadway creates a sensation by his extrava- . dance on the White Way. Four' years pass and Broadway suddenly discovers that bo is not only broke, but heavily in debt He applies to his uncle for a loan and receives a package of chewing gum with the advice to chew it and forget Ms troubles. He quietly seeks work without success. Broadway gives what Is intended to be a farewell supper to his New York friends, and before it is over becomes engaged to Mrs. Gerard, and *netbnt widbw. wealthy and very giddy.

CHAPTER iV—-Continued. Having performed this sacred ste of friendship he regained the center of the room, looked about him as if curiously, and then went unsteadily to the grand piano, upon which he placed his elbow with a nestling search for comfort which seemed to indicate afirm decision to lean against the instrument and go to sleep without delay. This would never do, for when his slumber became deep he would be sure to lose Ms balance. Rankin saw the deep necessity for rousing hlmWrom his inten"Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones," he urged, tapping him upon the shoulder. Jackson looked up, sleepily, as if astonished at the interruption of his slumbers. "Hello,” he said* good naturedly, “who’s there?” "It’s Rankin, sir" said Rankin. "Who’s 'Rankin, sir?'" The tone was that of tolerant curiosity to learn a total stranger’s unimportant Identity. "I’m the butler, sir." "Butler?" ~ "Yes, Mr. Jones; the butler." This seemed to rouse his master and be looked him over with some show of interest "A butlert" he exclaimed in tones of deep reproach. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself? When you were a little boy your mother had great hopes of you—thought you were going to be president of the United States, or something like that.’’ Rankin bowed impassively; he did not deny It “Now,” said his employer with the deepest of reproach, you've disappoint, ed everybody. You've turned out to be nothing but a butler. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!** Rankin was not offended; instead bis air was that of triumph. “Ah, but see who’s butler I am, sir!" he exclaimed. "Who’s butler are your’ inquired Broadway, apparently with idlest cariosity. I ' £ "I’m your butler, sir.” "Oh, you’re my butler?" This seemed not to be' especially astonishing, though deeply interesting to the master of the house. c "Yea, sir." Broadway looked at him with a glad smile, then with an earnest and enthusiastic gravity. He warmly shook his hand. "I congratulate you, Rankin. I’m very fond of my butler." His sentiment rose higher end he patted Rankin on the cheek. "I love my little butler. You must come out with me some night, Rankin.” ' . ' "I should like to, sir," said Rankin truthfully. Broadway became gay, mysterious. He looked at Rankin slyly Ad himself essayed to whistle some bars of the

"But See Who’s Butler I Am, Sir!”

weddlng march. 1 know something you don't know," ho cried irrelevantly Rankin listened with respect and cioM attention. His curiosity was almoot painful. ..h V ■ But hi. master did not satisfy It -Now Hl bld you godd-night, Rankin Nightie, nightie!- Genially ho waved Ms hand at him, laughed, whistled an•tliftF ter or two and elaborately made the starboard tack toward the door of his bedroont.... ■<? si 21122 master granted after 6 second’s deep trt

wish to be called ? What day Is it, Rankinr “It’s Thursday, sir." . - .7 ” ’£ “Thursday? Well, I tell you what you do, Rankin. You call me on Saturday.” . After this entirely unexpected suggestion to the little butler whom he loved, he found a devious course into his bedroom and Rankin, after he had watched the door close, heard the key turn in the lock. He sank Into a chair, even his composure utterly destroyed. In ' the distance a church-clock chimed. Rankin counted the slow strokes. “Five o’clock in the morning!" he said helplessly. . chapter v. Wallace was a mid-morning visitor. He came in briskly, Inquiring at the very much puzzled butler for the very elegant apartment's master. - “He’s not yet up, sir.” This apparently had not the least deterrent effect on the young caller. He urged his firm athletic frameethrough the short hall into the dim Illumination of the flat’s reception room. It was evident enough that he had no Intention of departing, simply because the master of the house had not yet risen. Rankin understood that and did not gainsay him. Wallace had his privileges as the best friend of the tenant of the. flat

“Shall I tell him you are here?** “Yea." said Wallace firmly, “and tell him that I want to see him right away. It’s very important Do you understand?" J-J-‘‘.r Rankin had already read the morning’s papers which were lying in a neat .pile on the table. He longed for fuller news than theirs. “Yes, sir.” But he hesitated slightly. Broadway was an indulgent mas-ter-still, strange things were happening; he was doubtful. "He said he didn’t wish to be disturbed till Saturday, sir." Wallace was not impressed. "That doesn’t make any difference. You tell him I want to see him.” “Yes, sir.” But the perfect servant still hesitated, filled with curiosity about the previous night Wallace might enlighten him. "Ho didn't get home until five o’clock He attended some big dinner-party, I< believe.” “Yes; I was there—l was there! Go bn and "call him! Tell him lam waiting. I’m going to have a heart to heart talk with that young man.” "Yes, sir,” said the butler without hastening, for he saw that Wallace had picked up a paper from the neat pile he had made of all of them upon the table. ; "Great Scott!" Wallace cried, dismayed. "Here it is on the front page?” "I beg pardon, Mr. Wallace, but is it all true, sir?” "What?" “The story in the morning papers, sir, about—er—his engagement?” "I don’t know. Someone rang me up and told me of it It's what brought me here- I want to find out if it’s true. I left the dinner at 12:30. The engagement, 1 am told, was announced shortly after I had left. Were you up whence got home this morning?" "Yes, sir." "Did he talk of It at all?" “He—couldn’t talk so very much, sir.” “Tipsy?” Rankin nodded very solemnly. "Stewed, sir." , “Did he come home alone?” "He came in here alone, but a crowd was serenading him upon the sidewalk for ten minutes after be arrived. It was the wedding march they tried to sing. I couldn’t understand why they chose that until I read the morning's papers, sir.” ~ ""Well, what do you think of it, Rankin?” < Rankin shrugged his shoulders, but did not reply. His instinctive loyalty to his employer, bis perfect knowledge of his own proprieties prevented that "Oh, come on," Wallace urged. "You can tell me. Just between us now." "She’s old enough to be his mother, sir,” Rankin said with lowered voice.

“She’s old enough to behls mother’s mother!- Wallace cried explosively. Then, with determination: "Go on and tell him that I want to see him. Hurry up!" Rankin yielded. These were the headlines of the item Wallace had perused with such dismay upon the first page of the newspaper. There were columns of It. “MRS. JAMBS GERARD'S ENGAGEMENT. "The Three Times Widow to Share Her Millions With Broadway’s Own Jackson Jones. “This Announcement, Which Surprised New York, Was Made Last Night at a Dinner-Party Given by the Young Spendthrift in Honor of the Wealthy WidowWallace dropped the paper and looked at It as It lay upon the floor with disoontent apparent in his countenance. “That’s the biggest laugh New York has had in years.” he groaned. “I’d like to—’’ Upon a nearby table the telephone “Hello” said he. “Yes • . . No; ...

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

this is Mr. Wallace speaking. . 4. .. No; not Mr. Jones. 4 am a friend of his. . . . No; he can’t come to the phone. He’s dressing. .1 .. . can’t make an appointment for you. . 7 . What’s the name? . . . Yes; I have It: Peter Pembroke. . . . You must see him today? . . • Very well, I’ll tell him. . . . Say you’ll call? ... All right I'll ten him. ... Good-by." He returned from the phone as Rankin reappeared. "Wake him, did you?" jTes, sir. He’ll be dressed in about ten minutes.” He bustled about the room, gathering up the newspapers. “I told him I had just read of his engagement and I congratulated him." “What did he say?” “Nothing, sir; just asked for the papers and a whisky sour. He says be sure and wait." “Oh,Til wait all right!" -There was something stronger than meYe acquiescence in the young man’s voice. There was determination in it;

"You Don’t Think He Seriously Considers Marrying You?"

the determination of a man who has a plan in mind. Thus might a fond; but angry father speak, who held a rod in pickle for the erring son for whom he waited. Fiercely he paced the room until his steps, half way to the outer hall, were arrested by the bussing of the doorbell. Rankin, who had started with the whisky sour and newspapers for his master’s door, turned back and put them on a table. "Another early caller!" he complained. The situation had begun to get on his nerves. ' "If it’s a newspaper reporter tell him Mr. Jones is out of town." - . "Yes, sir." Wallace felt his nerves rasp as he heard the voice Which greeted Rankin' in the hall. It was not that of a Journalist, but that of the fair and ancient widow to whom Jackson was alleged to be affianced. For a moment he considered flight, but he was made .of sterner stuff and held himself in check. The lady swept into the room. It was evident that she was just a bit nonplussed at seeing him, but she recovered quickly; she had had much experience with the emergencies of life. "Good morning, Mr. Wallace," she said sweetly. ; Her age, he noted, showed more plainly in the daytime, despite the arts which she invoked to hide it He had not seen her previously, save by artificial light.

He was shocked. She made him think of the unpleasant mother of an unpleasant boyhood schoolmate. Jle had hated all of them. Exactly as this old woman now was smiling that old woman of his early youth bad smiled when she with diabolical ingenuity had been devising comprehensive plans for spoiling a day’s fishing. His greeting of Mrs. Gerard was very formal, but she did not seem to mind. “Where is Mr. Jernes?” she asked Rankin. “He’s dressing, ma’am.” "Well, tell him I am here and waiting to take-him for a spin through the park. Say to him that it’s a glorious morning’’ ’ < There was an unction in her tones, a hint of triumph and proprietorship which maddened Wallace. Could it be possible that his good friend was to be linked in wedlock with thio—er—this — He was Instinctively a courteous man and his thoughts refused to form a word to suit his wild emotions. She turned to him. "Won’t you loin us, Mr. Wallace r Her voice was honeyed, though he saw that she was sure of his antagonism and reciprocated it. “No,” he snapped. It was as an afterthought he added: "Thanks!” "You went away early last night,” she ventured, still with the honeyed smile ' ‘ > "Yes." “You didn’t wait for the announcement” -UC • “No.”" “Were you surprised when you heard it?" ■ ' “Staggered.” The smile deepened. She was most offensive in her victory. "1 thought

WITH PHOTOGRAPHS \J FROM SCENES IN THE PLAY

you would be. What do you think of It an?’’

As'he thus apologized, disgusted, worried, even frightened by the muddle in which his friend had so Involved himself, entirely Ignorant of the sorry cause which had led Broadway to the fatal step, that young man entered from the hall, having effaced as many traces as he could of the wild night, and rightly clothed himself for morning callers. As he advanced .he hummed a stanza from some cabaret favorite which ran, monotonously: “I love you; oh, I love you!" She looked at him with natural Indignation. - -

“You’ll pardon me, Mrs. Gerard,” he said apologetically, “but I was thinking of something funny.” ' “Something that just happened?" she said suspiciously. “No,” he replied earnestly, "something that happened years ago." “For a moment I thought you were laughing at me,” she admitted. "Oh, Mrs. Gerard —how could you?" She was pacified. Taking herself with perfect seriousness she did not fall to credit others with the same intention. “I know I’m horribly touchy In some respects." She would gaily, almost babyishly. “Mother always calls me a silly child.” His astonishment was genuine. “Your mother! Is your mother still living?” “Why, yes; of course. And what a mother!” she cried enthusiastically. "What a wonderful mother! Sixtyfive!" As she had herself at least reached that age, he felt himself pardonable for interpreting her meaning as he did. “Slxty-flve children? Really!" “No, no!’’ “No. of course not,” he admitted. “What am I thinking of?” "Ten children,” said the ancient sweetheart of his friend. "Five boys, five girls. 'The baby,’ they always call me.” . ,„7„ He was literally withered by the bold effrontery of this. - ncredible even to the bald complacency of this extraordinary dame. But he was young and rapid of recovery. “I suppose,” he suggested with mild eye and an inquiring air, “that most of the boys are still going to school?” “Why, of course not!" She seemed to be taking him quite seriously, to be pleased, in fact "They all married T’ “Foolish youngsters!” "Oh, I don’t know. I married my first husband when I was eighteen. Her eyes grew reminiscent When she spoke It was as If she made concession of unwelcome truth to him because he was a friend—a confidential friend. "That's twenty years ago!" He was losing patience with the woman- “Do you mean to tell me that you’re—"

“Sh!” she cautioned playfully. "I don’t tell my age to everyone!" y I can readily understand that" “How old are you, Mr. Wallace?" she asked sweetly, evidently pleased ’at the establishment of confidential relations with this, Broadway’s most intimate friend. "I’ll be twelve in October,” he replied with a calm smile. "Twelve!" She paused and then burst into her small cackle of artificial laughter. “Oh, I see; you want me to add about twenty to that!" “Yes,” he exclaimed ungallantly, disgustedly, “and add about thirty more to your own.” "What!" She was instantly indignant, not unnaturally.

SOMETHING TO SAY FOR MULE

Traveling Tobacco Man Made a Study of Spanish With a Distinct Object In View.

"Before returning from my first trip to Cuba I improved my Spanish by diligent study in order to inform a mule in his own language just what I thought of him without any confusing equivocation,” said a traveling tobacco man. “This mule was one that I rode on a tour of some tobacco plantations. The people from whom I borrowed the mule said that it was an animal, of tireless energy, tenacious disposition, and marvelous speed. “I had no sooner mounted the beast titan it showed a disposition to canter far in advance of my party over hills and through fields until I realized suddenly that I had practically lost the others. "J spoke sharply to the mule and tried to rein it In. Instead of slacking pace the animal went faster. “I spoke more sharply still and reined harder. Same result. “Raster and faster went the mule. It galloped on through forests, open country and startled villages. I might have been galloping yet, a kind of permanent John Gilpin, had I not uttered, wholly by chance, a word at Spanish profanity that the mule might understand.

“Oh, some, now, Mrs. Gerard!" he urged. "You don’t expect me to believe that you—" She was thoroughly indignant “How dare you, sir! Do you know what you’re saying?" "I know what I’d like to say," he confessed, looking steadfastly at her. "About what?” “About your- engagement to young Mr. Jones. Why, you’re not taking the chap seriously, are you?" • Her anger grew. “What do you mean?” “Just what I say," he answered firmly. “That It’s all wrong. It’s Impossible. The idea of a woman of yonr age Imagining for a moment that this boy is fool enough to think of such a thing! Do you stop to think what people will say? Don’t you realize that It can’t be? That It’s simply preposterous? Why—" “Are you trying to Insult me, sir?" “No,” he answered earnestly, “I’m trying to save you from being humiliated and laughed at Deny the story at once. Say it was all a joke. Say anything, but for heaven’s sake don’t let It go any further!” She gazed at him in speechless wrath while he nervously paced the room. ‘ " -

"Surely," he said whirling, “you don’t think he seriously considers marrying you?" "And why not?" Her icy tone was full of outraged dignity. "Because it would be a ridiculous match. Give it serious thought You’re a sensible woman, figure it out for yourself Why, you're more than twice his age!" "Sir!" "Why, he’s only twenty-five—not that, yet” She gazed at him in speechless rage for twenty seconds, then said, explosively: "You—brute!" "I’m your friend," he urged. "I’m trying to help you. I'm trying to save you from being made the laughing stock of the town.” . "Do you mean to insinuate that Jackson doesn’t love me?" "Jackson doesn’t love anyone except a good time. Why, he doesn't take anything seriously, especially women. To my knowledge he’s been engaged to thirty since he’s been here in New York.” He made no reply, merely casting at her a malevolent, sidelong glance. ‘1 say what do you think of all?" "What do you think of it, yoctoMf 1" "I am as happy as a little birdy to a tree-top,” she replied, assuming atw reserved for maidens of sixteen. Against his will, indeed, to hte (astonishment, he burst into a roar to laughter. ' “I—don’t —believe you!** ; He shrugged his shoulders. “VeiT well; go ahead; it’s no affair of She agreed with thia “You'll de well to remember that Attend te yotfr oWn WaiiiuA’’ "Excuse me,” he said apds'gettags&" "I’m sorry I spoke.” - At sight of Mrs. Gerard he brightened and sprang toward her eagerly. He was not the one to go back on a bargain, or to make a wry face over necessary medicine. "Beatrice; My Beatrice!” he cried. Wallace eyed them with disgust as they flew into each other's arms. Having released his "Beatrice, my Beatrice,” he turned to Wallace with a calm which Wallace could not but admire. The youngster certainly was game! "Good morning, Bob.” Wallace scorned him. (TO BE CONTINUED.)

“What I yelled was the Spanish for ’Whoa!’ It stopped the mule like magic. Throughout the trip I had been yelling ’Git up’ without knowing it, while sawing at the reins. “But that mule heard a lot of unintelligible Spanish from me before I left Cuba.”

Pearis From East Africa.

Cooked jewels have recently been offered for sale by East African natives. It appears that pearls as at present traded in that country are from oysters gathered by natives at tow water for food; the pearls, being in consequence from Immature oysters, are usually very small and discolored by cooking; but occasionally, however, a very good pearl is offered tor sale by natives, one such being stated-to have fetched $6,000 in Zanzibar. At least, it is certain that pearl-bearing oysters exist on the coast, and that valuable pearls have been occasionally found, while practically no effort has been made to prove whether or not a profitable industry is possible.

Mrs. Labeling Explains.

"We’re always careful about these contiguous diseases” said Mrs. Lapsling. "When Johnny bad got well ot the measles we bought some sulphur candles and disconcerted the house from top to bottom.”—Chicago Trib

' Oh. don’t you re- ■ member our ata'”* ■hip. Ben Bott, .v.., Our airship so trim and so fine: We looked with do*g -f light when - wings were outali I 1 /*') spread, ZV/Jl ■ Sb l An d spoke of its If 1 l!y A graceful design. NnjUl I fy/vl On the old scrap pile i J/7W U 1 ,n tb* “bry- Bea In • corner ob- • I t| scure and alone 7 K.I EgrtaiTO is There is lying" LjIJBW airship that ■xdE’tl gladdened ”• i once k That was built up- . 1 on Pbins of our own— J~j There Is lying the 3 wreck of a mou- ? oplane, Ben, That was built upon plans of our own. And don’t you remember the morning, Ben Bolt, When we thought we would test ouTjmachine? ' We took It around to the rear of the ehed Where the grass was untrodden an< green. You seated yourself at the levers, Ben Bolt, And up like a rocket she went; Oh, I still know the place where y«a j landed, Ben Bolt, It is marked by a deep, ragged rea»S I shall never forget the impression, Beu Bolt, That I had when you made that deeW:7 dent ........ There is change In our worldly ambitions, Ben Bott; ■: We once had a longing to soar; But I know your desire for mounting is gone, That you seek the high currents ne-- . more. And I am possessed of no yearning, Beg" ! Bolt, ' ‘ ”5 To soar as a bird on the wtng; I have learned that the earth is a pretty good place And close to its surface I cling; I have found that If one wants a footing that's safe The earth Is a pretty good thing.

CANDID OPINION.

Some people hunt tor work in about the same way that an optimist hunts for trouble. *' '■ Few men succeed In getting valuable experience by deliberately going out after it Most people would be satisfied witlb the kind of a living they are making if other people were not living better. The man who told us so is always doubly offensive if he comes around after the arrival of our troubles and tries to look as if he had forgotten aU about It

WHY SHE ASKED.

ft was lack of experience or natural awkwardness that made you go about-; It in such a ridiculous way*

Lucky.

*T consider my wife the loveliest; woman in the world.” • “I congratulate you. A man wwg considers his wife the loveliest woman? In the world has a blessing that O greater than riches. He is luckier than the man who has millions anttj is bored when he has to be aloneg with his wife. How long have you been married?” "It will be six weeks next Thurs-? day”

Slow.

"This town is rather backward, Isn’t ; ttr | “I don’t think so. We have a |lO,000,000 depot, and our street railway system is undoubtedly one of the best .S In the world.” "But you don’t seem to have either J a White City’ or a ’Luna

The Gardener.

There was a man In oer town, . *■" And he was wondrous wise: He made a Sarden which was great—Q At least it was for sis* p And when he’d got hfs planting done 1 . Hla muscles hurt him an gs That he had not the heart to dig Wi The weeds which wished to mow.

How the Rumor Started.

“They say Bexley has married a woman with a past” "No. She merely lived In a board-; Ing-house where the other women hadt * nothing to do but gossip.” , , J

At Last

When a man confidently tells his , Wife that he considers the pretty woman across the way a fright it may-1 | be admitted that he has arrived ah | i years of discretion.

A Leader.

at anything, don’t you know." cigarette roller in our set”

j "Have you ever kissed a girl be*:" fore?" she asked. “Why do you [■put? that quegtfeti"’ to ms’" he 'rig plied. . "I only wished to know whether