Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 157, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 July 1917 — Dempster Seeks His Fortune [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Dempster Seeks His Fortune

By Hi Aken

(Copyright, Ul7, by W. O. Chapman.) Lee Dempster was reading one particular part of the morning paper very carefully. The column demanding his concentrated attention was headed, “Male Help Wanted.” Positions demanding experienced chocolate dippers, upholsterers, and drygoods salesmen did not seem to appeal to him. He lacked the “experience,” and bluffing at a trade would not work. He paused with something akin to a sigh, and looked up at the bare trees. There did not seem to be much comfort or inspiration in the prospect, for a dusty, wind-swept, city park in February with mercury near the freezing point is not the most comfortable place in which to meditate. But the cheap hotel for men in which Lee Dempster had spent the night did not encourage it’s guests in lingering inside its wails even fifteen minutes after a certain hour in the morning, so Dempster, a decidedly good-looking young chap in good clothes, read his morning paper on a park bench. A cloud of dust which almost blinded him brought him once more to the perusal of the “Want” column. “I’ve got to find something I” he said to himself, and he went on with the search. He stopped, and read an “ad” over the second time, a whimsical smile drew his face, he tore off a bit of the paper, and stood up. Mr. A. Harmon wanted a valet who was “intelligent and reliable.” Well he could lay claim to both requirements. As to the “experience,” he might have to slightly prevaricate, but the case was desperate ; and in half an hour he found himself in the presence of A. Harmon. The luxurious bachelor apartment betokened wealth, "and” the ■-owneri’ - *’ wholesome-looking man in his early thirties, received him with the usual

Inquiries: Had he had any experience? Could he furnish references,' etc.? The applicant replied that he had had some experience, but as to references—no, he had none. Mr. Harmon looked at him doubtfully. Then something in the young man’s straight gaze, and speech prompted him to give him a trial. Lee Dempster gave his employer his name; he reasoned that no one would know him in this strange city. That evening Harmon told Dempster he was dining out. “Club or house, sir?” asked the new valet. “House. And box party afterward. Shall I tell you what to lay out?” “No, sir. I know,” answered Dempster. And he dressed his gentleman, and turned him out absolutely correct, without one word of instruction. This rather mystified Harmon, for his valet's educated speech and manner had led him to think that this was probably his first experience in that position, and that he should have to tell him every step of the way. As the days went on, Dempster became more of a companion than a servant to Harmon. He asked no questions, but he felt convinced that if he knew, there certainly might be some Interesting disclosures as to the change in his valet’s position in life. But Dempster was efficient and trustworthy, and he was content to let things go on as they were. Harmon was just starting to dress for the evening when the telephone called him. There were some answers of surprise, regret and sympathy, and he hung up the receiver with an exclamation not intended for the person at the other end. “This is a pretty mess! At the last minute, too! If Weaver was going to get the grippe why didn’t he start in a few hours before, and' not put It off till the last minute?” “We are all apt to procrastinate In such matters,” observed Dempster solemnly. In spite of his annoyance Harmon burst out laughins. “You see,” he said, “I had promised Jko contribute, as my Share of the pro-

gram, a fellow who recites and tells funny stories, and now to fall down in this way makes me look like thirty cents. Say, Dempster, can you do any stunts?” t “Well, I have recited a bit,” said Dempster modestly. “Will you come with me tonight? No one need know you are my valet. Put on anything of mine you want, and I’ll introduce you as a well-known entertainer.” Dempster agreed to oblige his employer. It was a club “smoker,” and he recited, and told some good stories. It was not so much his diction as it was his telling gestures, and his mobile, expressive face that seemed for the time being to transform him into the character he was portraying that took the audience by storm. They kept on asking for more, till he was obliged to refuse further encores. The next day Dempster rather reluctantly told Harmon that one of the guests, the head of a large motion picture concern, had asked him to pose for them. He had been offered a sum per day equal to what he was then getting for a week’s work. “For nearly two months, I’ve tried to get a chance at the movie studios. I’ve stood around those places till I was nearly frozen, and starved. Why at this office, where the head has offered me work, I hung around for a week, only to be turned dqwn.” Harmon saw how eager the man was to go, and could not say anything to keep him back, but offered to let him remain for awhile to do any little service he could in his spare time. Dempster was grateful for this, and accepted the offer.

Dempster often came home so exhausted after dives from rocks into rivers, gallops on fiery steeds, and falls from automobiles that he was not of much value as a valet, and told his employer he would better let him go. But Hannon had become really attached to the young man, and would not hear of it. When the picture was finished, he was discharged with the promise that he would be notified if needed. He had given entire satisfaction; but this did not count when he tried to find work elsewhere. He resumed his duties as valet, and was again asked to entertain a company. This time there were ladles present. As he was bowing his acknowledgment of the applause, the smile died on his face, and he turned away, and refused to respond to the encore. He had seen the face of a girl among the guests, a face that suddenly drove everything else from his mind. She made her way to him. “O Lee! Lee! Why did you do it? I was wrong too! I want you!” He answered in broken words of joy and contrition. “I’ve been a fool,” he said. “But how can I go back? Father —” “He wants you too, Lee! He told me so.”

The next day Dempster explained to Harmon. He had been crazy to act before the screen. He hated the business in his father’s bank. He had had a quarrel with the girl he loved, and she had sent him away. Then when he had wanted to go into the movies, there had been an awful scene with dad, and he left home to do what he pleased. He had had all he wanted of screen acting, and was going back home to the bank, and to marry Fanny. Harmon asked if he could be “best man,” and Dempster warmly accepted. Harmon fairly gasped when Dempster handed him his address. “What!” he exclaimed. “John Dempster’s son! How in hades did you learn to be such a nifty valet?” “I had a mighty good one of my own,” said Dempster.

The Smile Died on His Face.