Evening Republican, Volume 22, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 January 1919 — Page 2

The Thirteenth Commandment

DUANE AGAIN COMES TO RESCUE AS DAPHNE SEES HER CHANCE TO BECOME A STAR SLIPPING AWAY.

Synopsis.—Clay Wimburn. a young New Yorker on a visit to Cleve"lahd, meets pretty Daphne Kip. vvhoseTtFdfller Is in the same office with Clay in Wall street. After a whirlwind courtship they become engaged. Clay buys an engagement ring on credit and returns to New York. Daphne agrees to an eariy”n>arriage, lunT’after extracting - frorn hes money-worried father what she regards as a sufficient sum of money for site goes to New York with her mother to buy her t-rous-S&ftti. Dapiihe'S broDl'l 1 !*. Bn.viii'd, litis Just married and left for Europe with his bride, Leila. Daphne and her mother install themselves in Bayard’s flat. Wimburn introduces Daphne and her mother to luxurious New York life. Daphne meets Tom Dugne. man-about-town, who seems greatly attracted to her. Daphne ■. acddvn.tu.ijy. djsewers .that- day js penniless, except for his salary. Baynard and his wife return to New York unexpectedly. The three women set out on a shopping excursion and the two younger women buy expensive gowns, having them charged to Bayard. Bayard is furious over the expense, seeing. hard times ahead. Daphne, indignant, declares she will earn her own living and breaks her engagement with Clay. Through an introduction by Duane, Daphne induces Reben, a to give her a position in one of his companies.

CHAPTER X—Continued. Miss Kemble went forward to Daphne and took her hand and petted it and said: “I’m so glad to see you. You must meet my aunt, Mrs. Vining. She won’t object to ydur playing her . parts. I’m sure.” Mrs. Vining, who had played all manner of roles for half a cehtury? and was now established as a famous player of hateful old grandes dames, spared Daphne her ready vinegar and chose to mother her. Mr. Reben had come down from his office to make up his own mind. He smiled with a kind of challenging cordiality and murmuredi_“So our little business woman is going to open the shop. Well, all you’ve got to do is to deliver the goods and I’ll buy ’em at your own price.” Batterson rapped on the kitchen table that stood on the apron of the stage under a naked bunch of light of glaring brilliance. “Places, please, for the entrance. Ready? All right. Eldon !” The noble matinee idol put his hat on the table, walked on. sat down on “a” divan composed of two broken chairs and read an imaginary newspaper. Batterson said : “Doorbell! Buzz-z.” A well-dressed young man, whom Daphne recognized as the elderly butler, walked across and opened an imaginary door between two chairs. This was the cue for Miss Kemble’s famous “How do you do?” Everybody waited and watched for the-newcomer to make her debut in the new world. Then was a silence. Daphne stood with heels screwed to the floor and tongue glued to the roof of her mouth. “All right. Miss Kip,” said Batterson with ominous patience. “Come on, come on. please!” Another silence, then Daphne laughed and choked. “I’m awfully stupld. Tve forgotten the line/’ Batterson gnashed his unlightedeigar and growled: “Howjado! Howjado!” “Oh, yes! Thank you. I’m so sorry I” said Daphne, and walked on at the wrong side of the chairs. Everybody shuddered to realize that she had entered through a solid wall. This miracle was ignored, but there was no ignoring the peculiarly ineloquent note she struck when she bowed to the butler and stammered: “How are you?” A sigh went through the vast profound and void of the empty theater. Instinct told even the echoes that Daphne did not belong and never could belong. Batterson groaned, tragically. “Not to the butler, please I Don’t say ‘HoW are you?’ to the butler. Don't say ‘How are you?’ to anybody, please. Script says - TTowjado?’ Say 7 ‘Howjado?’ to. Mr. 'Eldon there. Say ’Howjado’ to Mr. Eldon there.” “How do you do?” said Daphne, bowing to Eldon and speaking with a I soullessness of a squeezed doll. _Eld<»n v jos<\_fQlde<J .u4iJiis_lniagiiuiry j paper, and came forward with a pitying desire to help her. He Imped that the scared little Kip woman would win through the -same bitter trials t T > the same perilous and always -.endangered-.- , success. Rut lie had a fear. He, delivered her his line with be-nevolent-gentleness. He waited, then gave her her line with exquisite tact. She did not repeat it after him. He said' to her: “Doa’t-bb aYbaMY;-you’re all right." He gave her the line again and she parroted it after him. She leaped then to a speech several minutes frtrther on. He drew her ba?k to the cue: “Pardon me, but I think I have a line before that.” ’ • t . The rehearsal blundered on. It was pot Daphne’s fright that disturbed the rest It was her complete failure to suggest the character, or any character. But Batterson found nothing to,, •muse him, and Reben tasted that dust and ashes of disappointment with which theatrical managers are Dead sea fruit of beauty without dramatic talent - -

Miss Kemble tried to help. She asked Daphne to step aside ami watch while she went through the scene. But she was so unnerved that she forgot her own lines and had to refer to the manuscript, while Eldon warited in acute distress and Daphne, looking on. said: “Oh. I see. I think It now.” Then she forgot it all again Trf Hie repetition; —Somehow the rehenrsal was worried through to the end and Batterson dismissed the company with sarcastic thanks. Then he went to Reben •to demand a substitute. —Daphne went home, dreading her fate but not knowing what the verdict was. She felt sure that it would be not guilty of dramatic ability. She was warnout with the exposure of her own faults and uncertain which she feared the more—to be dismissed or to be . ccepted. The latter meant unending trials. At the eleva tor —she foun<l Tom Duane. He had just telephoned up to the apartment to ask if she were in. There was a welcome flattery in his frank delight. She asked him up. Tom Duane was electric with cheer. He praised Daphne with Inoffensive heartiness and insisted on hearing the history of her progress. She gave the worst possible account of her stupidity. He would have none of her sei fdepreclation. ■; . “Everything’s got to begin.” he said. “Some of the greatest actors are bad at rehearsal, and never get over it. Some of the greatest actresses always are at their worst on the first performance. You’re bound to succeed. You have beauty and charm and grace and magnetism no end. Don’t worry. I’ll speak to Reben and make him festrain Batterson. We’ll make a star of you yet.” There was a fine reassurance in that word “we” tn spite of Its pleasant tang of impudence. It gave her strength to go to the telephone and call up Reben. She came back in despair and collapsed on the divan. Tom Duane was at her side instantly. “You’re ill ’ In heaven 5 ? name, what can I do?” His solicitude pleased her. She smiled palely: “Mr. Reben told me he was afraid I’d better give up the job.

He Gave Her a Hand-Grip of Perfect Good Fellowship.

He was very polite and awfully sorry, but he said he didn't think I was quite suited to the wtirk-JHe said that litter, perhaps, there might be another chance, but—oh—oh—oh !” She was crying with all her might. Gradually she realized that Duane’s hands were on her-shoulders. He was ..squeezing them <s if to keep her from sobbing herself to* pieces. His face was close to hers, and he was murmuring : ’ -“Yau pqnr little ming.Yqn jnnstaX grieve. You’ve to flpe and too beautiful for such work." ...x

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN. RENRSELAER, IND.

By RUPERT HUGHES

She flung herself free. “No. no; I’m an Imbecile —I’ni no good—that's all.” Those big hands were at her shoulders again. That soothing voice was ministering courage and praise: “You are not no good. You shall succeed! I’ll make Reben take you back. I’ve helped Reben out when he was in trouble. I've lent him money and I’ll makd him give you your chance. I promise that, on my word!” She stared at him through her tears. They blurred him in dancing flashes of light as if he were a sun. god. She <■;i iig 111 his hands from h~Ff" shoulders, but she had to hold them in hers. She was drowning, and she must cling to whatever arms stretched down to her. She must not question whose they were till she .was safe again on the solid earth. Duane was laughing now and patting her on the hack as if she were a frightened child. She felt no right to rebuke his caresses. They were sueh as a brother might give a sister. Ills. arm. about hbr was that of a comrade, sustaining another in a battle. He was the only one in the wbTtd who. offered her courage and praise -tend help in her need. Duane said, with a matter-of-fact briskness: “I’ll call Reben up at once. No, I'll go see him.” “But you put me tinder such obligations. I’m afraid —” “Never be afraid of an-obligation.” “I’m afraid I can never repay .lt.” -—“Then you’re one ahead. But you can repay me and you will.” “How?” “Let’s wait and see. Goodby. Don’t worry.”

He gave her a hand-grip of perfect good fellowship and went into the hall. She followed him to tell him again how kind he was. As she was clasping his hand again Leila opened the door with her latchkey. Now there was triple embarrassment. Ttsm Duane had paid ardent court to Leila before she married Bayard. Here he was in Bayard’s wife’s home, apparently flirting with Bayard’s young sister. Leila felt all the outraged sentiments of jealousy and all t£ie Indignation of a chaperon who has been circumvented. Duane retreated in poor order. Daphne stammered an -explanation too brief and muddled to suffice. Then she went to her room. There her mother found her when she came in later. Daphne had only a faint hope that Duane could work his miracle twice, so she told her mother that she had failed as an actress. She told her bluntly: “Mamma, I’ve been fired.” To her comfort her mother caught her to her ample bosom and said: “I’m glad of it. I’m much obliged to whoever is to blame. Not but what you could have succeeded if you had kept at it. But you’re too good for such a wicked life. A person couldn't be an actor without beingpretender, and my little girl is too honest. Sb now you come along home with me.” “No, thank you. mamma.” Mrs. Kip gathered herself together for a vigorous assault when the telephone rang and the maid‘brought word that a gent’man wished to speak with Miss Daphne. It was Duane, and she braced herself for another blow. But his voice was clarion with success. “I’ve seen Reben. It’s all right. He’s promised to keep you on and give you a chance. He says for you to report at the theater at seven-thirty tonight.” And now again Daphne was more afraid of her success, such as it was, than of her failure. But it was pleasant to carry the news to her mother and Leila. ” It disgusted them both. They were still trying to dissuade her from continuing on the downward path when a telegram from her father came for her mother:

‘‘Taking heaver arrive Grand Central tomorrow don’t meet me love. “WES.” Bayard was late, as usual, and Leila!? temper had just begun to simmer when the- door was opened stealth-il-y ami a hand was thrust in. It proffered a small box of jeweler’s size and Ayaved..it.likc ji.flag of truce. - - Leila rushed forjvard with a cry of delight, seized th 6 packet and then the hand, and drew Bayrfrd into the room and into her arms. o -“ This is your apflogy, I suppose,” she said. “Yes. tjie apology for being late, and that’s what made me late.” k Leila was enraptured. She ndored gifts and she had the knack of inspiring them. The little square parcel provoked her curiosity. She opened it so excitedly, that the Contents fell to the floor. ami brought up a platinum chain with $ delicate plaqne cf tiny diamonds and petfrls on a device of platinum. Leila ran Mrs. Kip Daphne, exclaiming: “Aren’t they beautiful? Aren’t they wonderful? Aren’t they glorious?”. Mrs. Sip and Daphne tried to keep .the pace, but once more they could not forget who it was that* was raining .di^u^ald^on._f^..£rfi^_.strangfix 6 . Their alarm was not diminished when Bayard said to Leila;

“You’re not the only bne who can open accounts. I started one for those.” ; —— —— He took from his pocket' a pale brochure and said to Leila: “That allowance we agreed on, you know?” “Yes, I know.” , -*gCgell. instead of paying it to you week by week I decided to open bank account for you; sb I ran over to this bank at the lunch hour and made a deposit to your credit—five hundred dollars!” Leila forgot her jewelry for a moment In this new pride. She strutted about with njock hsuteur, waving Mrs. Ki nand Danhne aside, an d „ saying: “I>o!Kspcak to me,. 1 am a lady with a bank account” Mrs. Kip sighed In dreary earnest, “That’s more than I ejer was.” Leila was poring over her bank book, the blank pages in which so many dramas, tragedies and life histories could be codified in bald numerals. Her first question was ominous: “Do I have to go all the way down to Broad street’ every time I want to TDaw-mit-some money?” Her first thought was already to attack the Integrity of her store. “No, dearest,” said Bayard, “there is an uptowp branch, right around the corner. But I hope your visits there will be more for a put-in than takeout. Every tlmb I give you anything I want you to put some of it aside. Maybe some day I’ll want to borrow

She Found Batterson Quarreling With a Property Man Over the Responsibility for a Broken Vase.

some of it for a while. Maybe you can save me from a crash some day. Anyhow, it will be a great help to me to feel that I have a thrifty little wife at home. A man has to plunge a go’od deal in business. It’s his wife that usually makes him or breaks him.” Bayard spoke with unusual solemnity : “Old Ben Franklin said, ‘A shilling earned and sixpence spent, a fortune. Sixpence earned and a shilling spent, bankruptcy’—or something like that. But Moses got alfead of him. When he handed down the Ten -Commandments he whispered an extra one to be the private secret of the chosen people.” —— “What was It?” said Lella wlth a ■mlnTmunFoflnterest. “Thou shalt not spend all thdu earnest.” said Bayard. “It was—well, It was the Thirteenth Commandment, I guess—a mighty unlucky one to break. The Jews have kept it pretty well. They’ve been the bankers of the world even while they were persecuted.” Leila shrugged her handsome shoulders and studied the gems. “Let’s not talk about it tonight. Let’s- dine somewhere and go to the theater. I want to show off my new splendor.” _____ “Fine!” said Bayard, trying to cast away his forebodings and lift himself by his own boot straps. “G.et on your duds mother, you and Daphne.” “I can’t go,” said Daphne. “I’ve got to be at the fun-factory at half past seven and I’ve hardly time to eat anything.” While Leila and Bayard and Mrs. Kip were putting on their festal robes Daphne was' eating alone a hasty meal brought up tardily from the restaurant.

Before they were dressed she had to march out in what she called _her working clothes. The hallman rah to call her a taxicab, but she shook her head. Her humble twenty-five dollars a week would -not justify; a chariot to She walked rapidly along Fiftyninth street. but not ; rapidly -enough to escape one or two ’ murmurous gallants. , "-7 She found Batterson quarreling with a property than over the responsibility for a broken vase. He ignored her till at length she ventured to stammer: “Efere l am, Mr. Batterson.” “So I see. Well, sit down somewhere.” Finding h seat was no easy task. Every piece of furniture-she Selected became /at once the object of the scene shifter’s attack and she had take flight. Members of the company strolled in. paused at the mailbqx and went to their various cells. ' - Eventually Batterson found that all the company was on hand and in good health. He said to Daphne, “Everybody is here and nobody sick, so you needn’t stay after the curtain goes , Rut she wanted to learn her trade. so, she loitered- about, feeling like, an uninvited poor relation. The members of the company came from their Ikirs,

looking odd and unreal in their paint. They seemed to be surprised that Daphne was still In existence. Eldon gave her a curious smile Of greeting. She heard the call boy crying “Overture” about the corridors. She heard the orchestra playing “the king’s piece.” Then It struck up a march tTiaF sbimdeff remote and Irrelevant. There was a loud swish which she supposed to be the curtain going up. An actor and an actress in white flannels wish tennis rackets under their arms linked hands and skipped into the well of light. They bandied repartee for a time. Eldoh~speaking earnestly to Mrs. Vining, suddenly .began to laugh softly. He laughed louder and louder and then plunged into the light. A little later Eldon came off the stage laughing. He dropped his laughter as he crossed the border and resumed his anecdote. “As I was saying—’’ “But Mrs. Vining interrupted: “There comes my cue. How are They tonight?” '_ “Rather cold,” said Eldon; “it’s so hot.” “The swine!” said Mrs. Vining. Then she shook out-her skirts, straightened up and swept through the door like a dowager swan. One of the box lights began to sputter, and Batterson dashed round from the other wing to curse the man in charge. He ran into Daphne, glared, and spoke harshly E“You needn’t wait any longer.” Daphne -swallowed her pride and slunk out.

CHAPTER XI. She woke early next morning. It was just six o’clock. She remembered that her father would be arriving in two hours. She decided that it would b f e a pleasant duty to surprise the poor, old, neglected codger by meeting him. At the Grand Central station Daptb nejround that she was nearly an hour tod early for the traln. lt amused her tb take her breakfast aElhe lunch counter, to clamber on the high stool and eat the dishes of haste —a cpp of coffee and a ham sandwich. It was pleasant to wander about alone in this atmosphere of speed, the suburban trains, like feed pipes, spouting streams of workers; the put-bound trains drawing their passengers to faroff destinies as if by suction. At length it was time for the train. Daphne went to the rope barrier op-, poslte the door of entry and wmited in ambush for her father. At length she made but a rather shabby man carrying his own luggage. It was her father. He looked older and seedier thap she remembered. He did not expect to, be met. He was looking yily at the new station. He had not been to New York since it had been thrown open. She ran to him. He dropped his oldl suitcase on the toes cf the man following him and embraced Daphne with fervor. He devoured her with his eyes and kissed her again and told her that she was prettier than ever. All about them there were little groups embracing and kissing. There was a wonderful business in reunions. When her father said, “I haven’t had my breakfast; have you?” she lied affectionately, “No.” “Let’s have some breakfast together.” ' “Fine,” said Haphne. ’iWeHl- go to the Biltmore.” “Kind of expensive, isn’t it?” he asked anxiously. “It’s my treat;” she said. This amused him enormously. “So you’re going to treat, eh?” “Yep,” she said. “Where did you get-all the money?” “I’m a working lady now.” He laughed again and shook his head over her. “What did you mean by saying you were a working lady?” -said Wesley when they were seated at the table and breakfast Was ordered. “Your mother wrote me something about having a little disagreement with you. She seemed to be right worried, so I thought I’d better run on to see if I couldn’t sort of smooth things over. I’m glad you cnine to meet- pae. We can talk without interruption for once. Tell me all about it.” She told him the whole story of her ! decision to join the great social revolution that is freeing w'omen from the slavery of enslaving the men. Her peroration Was her new watchword: “I don’t want to take any more money fronr you.” I “Why, honey,” he protested, “I love to give it to you. I only wish I had ten times as much. I Couldn’t dream of letting you work. You’re too pirty. What’s that young Wimburn cub mean by letting you work?” “Oh, he’s bittbrly* opposed to it, so rgnvbhimhlsfing.’’

At last Daphne gets the chance that she has hoped for andat the same tirpe has dreaded—the chance to gain a place that will give her the independence she seeks, What Daphne did with tho great chance when it came is told in the next in-.V. stallment.

(TO BE CONTINUED.)

Real “Handy Man.”

A Tasmanian jack of all trades claims that he Is a hairdresser, tobacconist cycle repairer, electrical certificated engineer, certificated marine engineer for the Derwent, organist and choirmaster, stencil cutter, fretworker, billiard hall keeper, proprietor circu1a tin Jlibrffrr.'-ftmt- is--Tnanager of thr local town hall.

GRANDDAD’S CLOCK

By JOSEPHINE MURPHY.

(Copyright, 1918, by McClure Newspaper Sjndicate.) in the saleroom the auctioneer had become quite tired of telling Intending bidders that it was “not for sale.’-’ He h„d explained that it belonged to a lady who hack acted as companion to the late owner of the house. --———.■■ She was still occupying one room io the house and had not had time to ret move all her things before the sale,, and so -the clock had remained in its usual place in a corner landing. .The auctioneer was preparing to take down the name of the hist Rm’’chaseiy "My name is Richard D——,” saidthe man. “Never mind writing it down; here is my card. By the way. think it won 1 d be any use to* send it in to the lady upstairs? L am very curious to see the clock theyare all making such a fuss about. I. to view the as I noticed in the catalogue that the cabinet was the only thing worth buying. However. I will run up and have a look at the clock, and, if 1 take a fancy to it perhaps I may .come to terms with the owner.” “.Whoever wants to buy that clock, will have to marry the owner,” replied, the auctioneer. A roar of applause greeted his remark, and, amidst the merriment of a room full of people, he made his escape upstairs. At first glance he recognized it to be one of rare make. It struck the hour of four and its voice sounded to him like the echo of another clock that had struck in the long ago. It awoke old. memories, asleep . for many years. And now for a few minutes Mr. Richard D- , the wealthy merchant and connoisseur, was dead, and plain Dick D——the farmhand of twenty years before, reigned in his stead. Once more it was haymaking time, and he and his companions, tirtnl out with their day’s work, were sitting at the supper table in the farmhouse kitchen, waited upon by Farmer E- ’s pretty daughter Esther. Once more he could feel his heart beating and keeping time to the tick of the grandfather clock that -fitted so well in the corner. Memories of happier days which he and Esther spent together, the only drawback tohis haiqriness being that the old clock was ticking away the precious minutes. Then had come the misunderstanding and they had parted. He came to himself With a start. How silly for him to indulge in such sentimental reveres. The past was dead and buried; what need to di< it up again. Yet how strange it was that he had never, thought of the other clock except in connection with her. And all these years he had overlooked the fact that it must have been one of great value. He wondered if it was still ticking in its old place in the corner, and if Esther ever thought of him when she, sat in the farmhouse* happily surrounded by her husband and children. Of course she had married Timothy Blake. He remembered it wage through him they had quarreled. At this moment the door at the far end of the landing opened and a woman came out.

She paused in front of him and said: “Excuse me, sir, that clock, belongs to ine, and is not for sale.” His card case felTto the floor, and as he stooped to pick it up he murmured, “It is she I It is she!” "The auctioneer told me the clock was not for sale, but I thought you might sell it if I made you a good offer.” • "I would not sell for any offer,” she replied. “The clock has associations for me and memento of the happy days gone by. In fact,” she added . sidly, “it is the only voice left me now that speaks to me out of the past.” “What does it say?” he questioned eagerly. She seemed surprised apd annqyed by the. question, for she made no answer. “I am sorry if I have hurt your .feelings by my offer. Mrs.—” H 0 hesi-* tated over the last word. “Miss E— —,” she replied, correcting him and filling in the pause. “What!” he shouted in amazement. “Do you mean to say you never married Timothy' after all?” She turned and peered up into his face. ■. ■ '■ . ~ “You, Dick! You!” He caught hold of her "hands, and, looking at her with a glad light shining in Ins eyes, he said r “Is it fmsstlde, me?" . ■ J ' ' “How could I forget,” she replied, “when the old clock has been ticking your name to me fpr the last twepty years?" Ten minutes later a man rushed into the anteroom and said to the young ♦ man who was still gazing at the bookcase : , “That old Johnnie who went upstairs is taking your advice already, for I’ve seen him kiss the owner of the ciqck.”

Touch Wood.

“Touching wood” Js a survival of the ancient custom of wapentake (weapon touch). Danish warriors cherished the custom of touching each other’s, spears in token that they would' join arms in a common cause; and this touching of the Wooden spear fts-becanac symbolic -of m«taal pro- * tection. ' ..