Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 303, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 December 1915 — Page 3

Millicent and the Mistletoe

I De LYSLE HXREE CASS j

-T) ILUCENT HEBARD had not the slightest idea I | that she even remotely || I ▼ 11 resembled Audrey ArII £ £1 lington, stellar member of the National Film Manufacturing c o mpar*y s cast - In facti having only recently ary rived in the big city from a downstate farm, she had not even seen any Miss Arlington’s ®7 / celebrated moving-pic-

ture portrayals, much less heard of that opuleut magnate of filmdom, the National Film Manufacturing company. Truth to tell, the very first time she learned of its existence was that evening when, wotn out by a bootless tour of business offices where she had hoped for employment, sac read its “ad” in the Help Wanted section of a newspaper. Millicent had come to the metropolis abrim with the high hopes and dimlnent enthusiasm of youth. Incidentally she brought remarkable good looks with her too, although, being unso phisticated and from the country, she was not as self-conscious of them as most city girts of her age are. The home farm was hopelessly mortgaged and for several years past she bad realized with increasing poignancy what a tax upon her aged parents’ slender resources she was. As a girl grows older she craves more and better things, and, no matter how slightly she may be in-

"Look! Look!”

dulged in the matter, her support is unavoidably more expensive from year to year. It was acute realization of this that had prompted Millicent to adventure citywards, armed with her diploma from the Tingleville Commercial college, proving her to be a fully trained stenographer. Millicent had found no positions open, however. Nobody seemed in need <sf a stenographer without past experience or even a typist. Some business men, she found, wanted a girl in their offices, but they expressed themselves afe being more personally interested in Millicent’s good looks than in her Tingleville certificate. So Millie wisely looked elsewhere. Wisely maybe, but fruitlessly. (Then one evening in her bare hall room this second week she came across the twoline “ad” of the National Film Manufacturing company, which, it seemed, was lukewarmly interested in securing a girl “for filing.” A princely stipend of six dollars per week was the practical inducement offered. Six loomed gigantic to our Millicent just then and, although the thought of being only an office girl was humiliating, it was considerably better than nothing. She determined to be first of the hundred-odd applicants at the studio on the morrow, and so, indeed, she was. On the way out next morning Miss Millie occupied herself with a perusal of the newspaper and therein read a long account of the stupendous production which the National Film Manufacturing company was about to release. The names of fascinating Aufrey Arlington, darling of the movie fans, and of Ned Tolman, her handsome male “support,” occurred fre-

quently. The release was to be in no less than five reels, three of which the press notice stated were already done and desperate efforts were being made to finish taking.the other two for a theater presentation by Christmas eve. “A mammoth, elaborate production ... no expense spared . . .” etc., etc., ad lib. Not knowing much about the movies, Millicent wasn’t much impressed, however. At the moment her mind was fervently occupied with melancholy reminiscences of a “Ned” whom she herself had known —Ned parkins, who had pledged eternal fidel-

ity to her in the shadow of a hay stack one moonlight night years before when both he and she were barely more than children. Ned —her Ned —had gone away to the big city three years before to make bis fortune. She never had heard from him since. •

Unclouded eyes, a fresh clean complexion and simple direct address won Millicent her interview with the office manager in the film plant. While he still was explaining her new filing duties, in rushed the chief director — hair rumpled and gesticulating tn wild excitement “Audrey Arlington fell down in the middle of her big scene in the last red) of the Christmas release. . . . Complete nervous breakdown! . . . hysterical . . . are rushing her direct to the nearest hospital now. . . . What in heaven’s name will we do? There isn’t a girl in the whole stock company who can make up to look enough like her to complete the personification for this final reel!" The head director kept wringing his hands and swearing frantically. The president of the company registered acute distress. Then his eyes accidentally fell upon pretty Mjllicent among her filing cases. “Look! Look; Mr. Isaacsobn!’’ yelled the head director, pointing. “As I live, that girl looks enough like Miss Arlington to be mistaken for her on the street! . . . Come here. Miss

—Miss whatever-your-name is! Have you ever posed before a ‘picture’ camera? No? . . . well, it doesn’t make any difference just now anyway. You’re fired from that office job. I’ll give you S6O a week to substitute for Miss Arlington in this last reel. . . . No, I haven’t time to listen to anything about it! Come on back to the studio with me right now! The ‘set’ is all up and we were right in the middle of the scene when Miss Arlington fainted. Ned Tolman, the leading man, is waiting. C’mon!’’

Bewildered Millicent was pulled out of the busy offices and back to the huge glass-domed studio where the last reel of the famous Christmas release was being held in Impatient abeyance for its principal. “Listen now, miss,” exploded the director as Millicent emerged from the dressing room clad in the same wonderful gown that Audrey Arlington had been wearing only ten minutes ’before. "Pay attention to what I say and don’t stare at either me or the camera. Act natural; that’s what we’re paying you for! Walk inside of those tape lines on the floor and don’t on any account move outside them. This scene is the parlor of your home. It’s supposed to be Christmas eve. You’re to turn your back to the camera and be tleing a sprig of mistletoe to the chandelier. Mr. Ned Tolman, who plays opposite ‘lead,’ will do the rest. You simply act as any girl would under the circumstances. . . . Hey you! Get

Mr. Tolman from his dressing-room. Tell him we’re all ready again. Now, in you go, miss!” Millicent did just as she was told, although her heart beat fast and her head was in a whirl. With her back to the assemblage behind the cranking comera man, she raised both arms to tie the sprig of mistletoe to the chandelier. Quick footsteps sounded behind her and, an Instant later, a man’s strong arms were around her waist and his handsome face thrust close to hers for a kiss.

With a cry of mingled fright and indignation, the girl squirmed about in his arms and tried to push him away. Then for the first time she caught sight of the movie matinee idol’s face. "Ned?” she thrilled in joyous amazement. “Ned Harkins! You are the famous Ned Tolman?” “Millicenit!" breathed he, clasping her closer as their lips met in a long, long kiss and the watching director yelled: “Fine! fine! Hold that!” Presently the whirr of the camera crank ceased and the grins on the faces of actor, “extra,” and “set” shifter broadened. “Hey there!” finally shouted the head director. “Film’s run out; scene’s over! We’ve had enough of that kiss now!” “But I haven’t,” murmured Ned, looking fondly down into his old sweetheart’s happiness-flushed face. “Have you, Millicent?” “Never! I could keep on doing it forever,” she whispered softly back.

“1 suppose you will have a merry Christmas at your house?” “Oh, yes,” replied the sophisticated small boy. “We younger people will endeavor to make it so. You know, so much depends on tha tactfulness of children. I always endeavor to make the holidays pleasant by showing an enthusiastic interest in the mechan*'al toys that afford growp people so much smnncraot.”

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, IND.

MISS SANTA CLAUS

With Joyful heart, on dainty toes, Her eyes ashine, each cheek a rose, Well laden with her presents goes The Christmas maid. In Santa's task she claims a share, And bears her gifts with thoughtful care, While Love attends her everywhere, A willing aid. Oh, Santa, take a friendly tip, Unless you want to lose your grip, Don't let her make another trip In all your days. For she’s a vision, so complete, So captivating, fair and sweet, That she has got you surely beat A hundred ways.

DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

When the Joy of Your Kiddies Brings Tender Memories of Years Ago. In these strenuous shopping days, writes Louis James, have you caught yourself remembering suddenly, in all sorts of queer, unexpected places, all sorts of queer, half forgotten things? Have you remembered how these days before Christmas are the wonderful days in the life of the child, more wonderful days, perhaps, than any that are to come? You know that yourself. You can’t help recalling how time went by those days before the great day. You remember how each day seemed somehow more wonderful than the one before, each day a prelude of real joy to that first marvelous moment of Christmas morning, when, after a night of little if any sleep, you scrambled up and stood breathless on the threshold of the room which had been forbidden you all those interminable hours that went before. The child you take with you through

Filling the Stockings

the wonderlands of the modern toy department wants what you did. The little girl stops before the baby doll, wide eyed, still with desire. The ooy stands flooded with happiness before an ark in which is every imaginable creatiqn. You remember what a small thing your own was, a fourth the size. But his joy is no greater than yours. He pushes toward the rocking horse. Now it runs by machinery, when once you ran your own across the floor to the imminent danger of total’destruction to persons and furniture that might stand in the way. But Christmas day was your day. The day when “don’ts” were not and you were king or queen in your kingdom of toys. You pass on to trains and there again electricity is running them. You pulled them yourself.

Then you catch the look on the face of your boy. He is watching the huge engine move slowly, smoothly along. It passes under Infinite tunnels and bridges and over made hills that present intricate difficulties of passage. Your tunnels were of chairs and the t ’ le in your kitchen made a splendid bridge to cross. He turns to you, the child of this twentieth century. His smile is beatific. He wants it —that train. He never wanted anything so much before. He never will again he is sure.

And as you move away you smile, a little sadly, a little gladly. You are proud to be able to make him so wonderfully happy, this child of yours, but yo u are sure, too, that he is no happier than you were these same preChristmas days, those years before.

BIRDS’ HOLIDAY DAINTIES

Yellow-Leg Snipe Travels Some 9,000 Miles for Christmas Dinner — Robins Like Holly Berries. The yellow-leg snipe travels a matter of 9,000 miles to get his Christmas dinner. It is pretty nearly the longest journey made annually by any living creature, and the object of it seems to be to procure certain dainties in the way of aquatic insects and crustaceans appropriate for holiday fare. * 4 One might say, however, that the most appropriate of Christmas dinners is eaten by the robins which at this holiday season feed largely upon the berries of the holly—particularly upon the berries of a kind of holly called the black alder, which are as bitter as qdinine.

Another bird which has an interesting Christmas is the mocking bird. He is a planter of the mistletoe berries and mistletoe berries contribute largely to his Christmas dinner. Being particularly fond of them he incidentally, though without intention, carries the seeds to tree branches where they promptly fasten themselves and sprout In, this way the parasitic plant is widely propagated in Texas, which is the principal winter resort of the mockers. The canvasback duck breeds in the far North, from Minnesota to the Arctic circle, in the interior. But the call of Christmas turns it southward, and it spends the holidays along the southern Atlantic coast, from the Chesapeake to Cuba. It feeds on various aquatic plants, but the piece de resistance of its Christmas dinners is wild celery—a succulent, water vegetable which gives to its flesh a flavor highly appreciated by the epicure. The wild Canada goose goes all the way to Mexico in winter, spending Christmas among the lakes in that far southern latitude, where nutritious grasses and water plants are plentiful.

USEFUL GIFTS

P— PEOPLE who dedide to give I only useful Christmas gifts KgjJ often have a bunch of surprises waiting fob them around the corner. '

“Look before you leap,” is A useful thing to remember. \ Useful presents should be accepted, in the spirit in which they are| given. Keep the Christmas spirit green. When you get a useful present, do not take it back and exchange it for something you can use. Keep it; hang on to it.' Do not give it away to the poor, for they have troubles enough of their own. One of the most useful useful gifts —for some people—is a smoking jacket. Once we gave our old Uncle Peters one of those costly nicotine reefers. It had blue satin cuffs and a braided collar. The coat was held together not by buttons but by goldbraid knots. The garment made a hit with Uncle Peters, but not the knots. For years his smoking jacket had been a flannel undershirt, gracefully decorated with suspenders. Every eve ning he sat by the stove, smoking a pipe which would have suffocated a steamship stoker. He never told us what he burned in the pipe, and we

CHRISTMAS BELLES

T““ “I HERE are Christmas bells I and bells. grJ The real Christmas bells rin K out only in the morning of the sacred day. The

other bells ring from morning until night. After which they jangle through one’s dreams. The Christmas doorbell is a great Institution. It is the busiest bell of the lot All day long the doorbell has pressing engagements. When the doorbell rings on Christmas day, everybody gives heed to its sweet sounds. And everybody rushes to the front door as if the house had caught on fire, and that was the nearest exit. The doorbell has in the family hopping as if they were so many trained ducks. There are two reasons why the Christmas doorbell is a welcome visitor when it jars upon the ear. In the first place, you know that no bills are going to be presented by the caller at the door. In the second place the doorbell may announce the arrival of a package. A sawed-off express wagon driver, with a chunky, holly-bound package under his arm, can get more attention on Christmas day than the governor of the state, surrounded by his military staff and preceded by a Chinese orchestra, playing “Tippelaly.” The package the expressman or mail carrier brings, is seized by a

THE LATE SHOPPER

Wg[7^\\ HE late Shopper is a prom- ■ I inent member of the Genus Procrastinatus. He has his own peculiar way of celebrating Christmas. Often he celebrates it in bed, with a water bag on his chest and the grip of an anxious physician around his wrist. His eyes are closed and his poor, warped brain is worn in a sling. On the floor beside his bed, torn to shreds and bitten in numerous places, lies his Christmas list. The day before Christmas he sallied forth with this list in his hand and a look of desperate determination on his features. The Late Shopper is a cheerful giver, withal. He loves giving for its own sake, but he loves it better for the sake of putting it off. Decidedly he is no believer in the "Do-it-now” movement. Nor is he selfish. It is Just a habit. It is to be feared that if he were dying of thirst he would put off giving himself a drink. Philanthropists should find rest sanitariums for Late Christmas Shoppers

Christmas Prayer

fIfOME Thou, dear Prince; Oh. Vlk come to us this hcxy Christmas time I Come to the busy marts of earth, the quiet houses *he noisy streets, the humble lanes Come to us aflL and with Thy »ve touch every human heart that we may know tha: love, and itsb’es-ed peace, bear charity to aS mankind. _ Eugene Field.

never went close enough to investigate. Christmas day they made him put on Qie smoking jacket. Life was not the sarhe after that. They told him he mustn’t smoke that vulgar, shocking old pipe while wearing the lovely jacket. Everybody thought he was cured of the deadly corncob. He quit smoking the pipe, and instead brought home a bale of cigars. He made a handsome figure, wearing the braided smoking jacket, and puffing a cigar with a gilt band around it. We left him, smoking happily by the stove. In one hour we returned. Uncle Peters was still consuming cigars. On the floor lay the family cat. It did not raise its head at our footsteps. It would never look up again. The picture frames on the walls had turned green. Uncle Peters denied that his Flor de Mule Ear segars had killed the cat. He insisted she had rolled over after taking one squint at the smoking jacket. Useful gifts often have a way of making themselves useful when you least expect it. For Instance, we buried the cat in Uncle Peters’ smok ing jacket!

dozen eager hands. It is strange how ready everybody is to help in relieving the deliveryman of his 12-ounce burden. Then the package is conveyed in state to the inspecting department It is opened with nervous anticipation, and there is great rejoicing when it proves to be a knitted muffler for father from Aunt Jessica. The muffler is as large as a young hammock, and is pinker than pa’s cheeks when we all insist that he try it on. If there is a grown-up daughter in the family, she beats all records getting to the door when, the-bell rings on Christmas day. If anybody beats her to the knob, It is not her fault, as she slid down the banister and took a flying leap, which was the best she could do without breaking bones. Sis expects the kind of presents which are not found in fireplaces after Santa Claus’ visit. She’s looking for bouquets of flowers, huge boxes of candy and other tokens of regard. Sometimes, though not very often, the bell ring announces a neatly wrapped wedding ring. The Christmas telephone bell is an important feature of the Yuletide. It rings Christmas tidings which formerly were sent on decorative cards, which, with their imitation snow, made handy match scratchers. The Christmas dinner bell—one at a time, please. Don’t all rush in «t once!

—the kind that are incurable. Here they could retire and nurse their wounds, incurred in the last toy counter rush. How fortunate it is that Santa Claus was not born a late shopper. He is always on the Job, and gets ready for the holiday season months ahead, we are reliably informed by the nursery books. However, Santa Claus is in constant danger of losing his reputation. There are hundreds of fond Fathers who pose as Santa Claus to their little broods, Papas who sally forth to collect a bagful of toys just when the stores are closing on Christmas eve, and the holly garlands are being taken down, and the manager of the dress goods department is getting ready to announce, “Spring and Summer Styles.” The Late Shoppers we have always with us. As eleventh-hour athletes, they take all the running, jumping and line-plunging honors. But often the Late Shopper has one good mark to his credit. He puts off giving at all times, and therefore puts off giv> ing a piece of his mind to his wife.

A Christmas Carol.

Twiddle—de—dum. Twiddle—dum—de, • Playing the game of Expectancy. • Under the glare of the Christmas tree. Blending of craft and philanthropy. Marvelous game of humanity. Twiddle—de —dum. ' < ? Twiddle—dum—dee. Twiddle—de—dum. Twiddle—dum— dee. The rules are as aimpie—just listen see; The gift you receive should be worth about three Of the one you beetow upon— possibly me Annually tempting the powers that be; Twiddle—de—dum. Twiddle—dum—dee.