Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 9, Indianapolis, Marion County, 21 May 1930 — Page 10

PAGE 10

OUT OUR WAY

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THE P |NDgPEND6NT 3^NOICATE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (Continued.) THE first big moment came with “The Clock Shop Clock.’’ Mary Della sang the catchy song through, pacing the width of the stage slowly. Then the orchestra returned to the beginning of the chorus and Mary Della cut loose. Talk about infectious dancing! The audience caught the rhythm quickly and swayed from side to side. Heels clicked, fingers snapped, shoulders took up the rolling swing. ''Click your heals, folks; raise your hand; Walk straight ahead; ain’t life grand.” It’s no wonder Brett’s musical comedy was a success. The only surprising thing is that the show ever was able to go on to its effective finale after Mary Della’s debut. “Now you sway, now you rock That's the snappy dance they eall ‘The Clock Shop Clock’.” When the curtain dropped on the first act, Mary Della hurried to the wings to change for the first scene of the next act in which she made an early entrance. But Brett stood with outstretched arms and refused to let her pass. ■ “Wait a minute,’’ he said in a hoarse whisper, “until the rest of the cast takes a curtain. You were wonderful, Mary Della!” T Nervously, Mary Della waited in tiie wings while the curtain rose and fell. She heard Miriam, laughing, elated, jubilant Miriam, spillThr superlatives into her ear as the pas and chorus pushed up and hurried to the dressing rooms. Then the curtain rose once more and she was pushed gently but firmly to the stage. She knew that she was alone and she understood vaguely at that moment that at least a portion of that loud and persistent applause was for her. But why? She heard Brett’s voice. “Wait tor your flowers?” And then several young men were Yianding boxes and baskets across % footlights, roses, roses, roses; o-*- •nations, and last of all a gay 11* ?.e box in which reposed what Instinct rather than experience told ■Jtfary Della were—orchids. Orchids! -♦leal orchids! CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE THILE she changed her cos- ; W tume, Mary Della listened to Miriam’s flow of praise, still wondering what had happened to create so much excitement. "Mary Della, darling,” Miriam was .bubbling, “do you know what all that racket meant? Child, you’re a hit! They went crazy about you, honey. Good gosh, what a riot you turned out to be! And orchids. For the love of heaven, who had jack enough to buy orchids?” - “I forgot to look for a card.” Mary •Della replied innocently. “Will you .see if there’s one in the box, Miriam?” Miriam went into the box as if it had contained something sacred, and from beneath the precious lavender blooms carefully extracted a small card. She handed it to Mary Della and then stared at it over her shoulder and read aloud: “May I offer my congratulations in person after the show? “Bob.” - “Can you beat It!” Miriam ex--claimed. “Child, he's gone clean batty over you. Don't tell me he’s going to marry some girl up on the hill. Not unless he’s opening a harem.” “But he is,” Mary Della insisted. “Is going to marry the Marabee jgirl. I mean. Not open a harem. He’s just nice, Miriam, and he feels like he ought to pay some attention me while this minder mess is igoing on. Will you pin this cuff on .the inside, Miriam?” A few minutes before the second act, Brett called from outside the dressing room door. “Can you come out a minute, Mary Della?” “Sure. Do I look o. k., Miriam?” “Darling, you look like a hun■fired million dollars to me,” Miriam declared. “Go on out and see what 3rett wants.” Mary Della closed the door after her and. still holding to the knob, rleaned back and smiled at Brett. - “I want you to meet a friend of -mine, Mary Della. Miss Chubb, Mr. .Colinstein." A fat little man with a bald head •and a perpetual smile stepped up -and held out his hand. “You were born for the stage, girlie,” he said to Mary Della. “I’ve

seen plenty of amateurs, but you beat ’em.” “Mr. Colinstein wants to talk to you, Mary Della,” Brett explained. “But he’ll have to wait until after the second act. It’s about time to go on.” Mr. Colinstein made an abbreviated bow and followed Brett back to the wings. “Good night, honey; what’s wrong?” Miriam jumped up and put her hands on Mary Della’s shoulders. “Somebdoy hurt your feelings?” n n MARY DELLA shook her head, “No, but I'm beginning to get dizzy from all the excitement, Miriam. Brett just introduced some friend of his. Said his name is Colinstein, and he looks to me like the pictures of Herman Colinstein. Ever hear of him?” “Puts on musical comedies in New York, don’t he? Wow! Suppose he offers to put you on Broadway. Wouldn’t that be tough, now? Did he say anything?” “Said he wanted to talk to me after the next act. But he can’t be Herman Colinstein and hanging around a skit like this. I wish I could go home and got to bed, Miriam.” “Aw, come on, honey. Things are just beginning to look up now. This is going to be a big night for you, or I miss my guess. There’s Brett calling us out. . . . Come on, girls.” At the close of the second act, Brett and Colinstein sat on a table while Mary Della occupied the only chair on the set. “I ought to tell you, Mary Della, that Mr. Colinstein is a producer and came here because he has confidence in my judgment of talent. We’ve been friends for years, and I know he would realize that I had an unusual find when I asked him to come up for this show.” “Brett’s a good boy,” said Colinstein affectionately. “Ought to be in the business himself, but thinks he’s cut out for something else. May change his mind after we get you lined up.” “He means, Mary Della,” said Brett, “that he’s willing to give you a tryout in one of his shows in New York. Isn’t that great?” “Eut-s—” Mary Della was about to say that shp didn’t want a place in any of his shows anywhere, but she thought better of it. “Why, I never—l never thought about such a thing before ” “Well, that’s natural,” Colinstein assured her. “But what’s the difference? You can think about it now, and I'm giving you a good chance. There’s money in it, lots ci it. But better, there’s fame. Know what I mean? Bright lights with your name spelled out, maybe. And lots of letters from fans. And your pictures in the papers. And maybe movies when you throw me over like all the good lookers do.” “It sure sounds great,” Mary Della admitted. “But I can’t think now. I'm too excited.” “That’s all right with me,” said Colinstein, and nodded to Brett. “I got plenty of them. You think about it, girlie, and when you get ready to bust into big time, just tell Brett to send me a wire.” “She’ll take you up, all right," Brett said, patting Mary Della’s hand. “It’s too good an opportunity to miss. Better run change now, Mary Della. This is the last blow.” MIRIAM was waiting wide-eyed. “What'd lie say, honey? Was it THE Colinstein? Did he offer you a job in the follies? Gee, you're not going to cry, are you?” “I wish I could,” Mary Della declared. “I don’t know of anything that’d do me more gooa right now ... He did offer me a job in a ! show, Miriam, but why did he?” She pulled the frock over her head and threw it on a chair. “Miriam, I feel like I was getting near the end of a long dream. Is it all real—?” One thing about it was real at any rate, and that was Robert Henley Calkman 111, who took Mary Della’s arm at the bottom of the stairs and hurried her through the crowd to sr dark blue limousine with a liveried chauffeur. “Holy smokes!” Mary Della whispered. “What’s this, a private Pullman?” Robert threw his head back and laughed. “It’s my mother’s show-off car,” he said “f'ther and Dad drove it from Detroit this morning and I borrowed this to run over and ** “Miss Marabee ?” Robert’s face was a soidy. He

—By Williams

seemed undecided whether to smile or be angry. “You are much too wise, little lady,” he declared with conviction. “I did tell dad I was coming to see Marjorie. But you see where I am. . . . How you did take that house down, Mary Della! I was as proud of you as if I had been responsible for your success.” “They sure were nice about applauding, all right,” Mary Della said, wondering how applause could mean success. “You don’t know how the orchids helped, Bob. I never got closer to an orchid than the outside of a florist’s window, you know.” tt a TH E chauffeur had followed Robert’s directions, and instruction; he now pulled up to the curb before the Georgian on East Main street, and held the door open while Mary Della and Bob stepped out gayly. Half an hour later they entered the car again, and Robert specified the shortest route to the Chubb flat. ‘Straight ahead to the traffic light and turn right, I’ll show you the house, Merrick.” The cumbersome vehicle edged back into the middle of the street and swung around the Soldiers’ monument. “Why so serious, fair one?” Robert asked lightly. “Tired?” Mary Della did not answer at once, but casually surveyed the luxurious interior of the car, and then gazed out at the familiar shop windows. “No, Bob, I’m not tired. T was just thinking what a coward I am.” ( “Coward?” “Well, what else? I get fresh and lead you into a jam. Then when you try to be decent to me, I don’t thank you and let you go on your way, but I hang on, snatching at every chance to be with you, telling you we’ve got to call it quits, and then almost falling in your arms when you show up again.” Robert stared at her, confused. “What are you talking about, Mary Della? I don’t seem to gather.” “Don’t be like that, Bob,” she replied quickly. “You know what I mean. We don’t belong to the same sort, Bob. Take me here in this mean-looking bus, for example, I don’t fit the picture and I ought to be ashamed to sit here like a fine lady, when by rights you should be with the girl you’re going to marry. She’s used to this kind of racket and she‘s one of your kind. See what I’m getting at?” Robert spoke to the chauffeur and closed the glass slide between them as the machine came to a stop before the Chubb door. “Suppose, Mary Della, there was no other girl,” he said quietly. “We can’t suppose that, Bob. There’s the difference between me and you, money and society and education and a lot more. And besides, there is another girl.” “But just suppose there wasn't,” he insisted, nodding to the chauffeur who was (.waiting to open the door. “Then there’d only be that big difference between us,” Mary Della replied, stepping to the sidewalk. ’But that’s more than plenty, Bob.” (To Be Continued)

THE SON OF TARZAN

At the village gates through which the blacks poured in panic, Korak left them to the tender mercies of his allies and turned eagerly to find Meriem. In score- of filthy huts he searched, becoming more disheartened as he found each empty. At last + o his mind came the despairing conviction—Meriem had been killed. A wave of rage surged through him against those he believed were responsible for her end. Revenge at least, was his!

THE INDIANAPOLIS TIMES

BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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MOM’N POP

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In the distance he could hear the snarling of the baboons mixed with the screams of their victims, and toward them ho made his way. Swift, relentless, terrible, he hurled himself upon the savage warriors of Kovudoo Like a lion he was here, there, everywhere, striking mighty blows from hard fists, with the precision of the trained fighter. Again and again he was upon a warrior and gone to another before an effective blow oould be dealt him,

—By Martin

Finally it was the simple superstitious minds of his foemen that decided the combat. This white warrior, who consorted with fierce baboons, who growled and snarled and snapped like a beast, was not human. He was a forest demon, a god o* evil whom they haci offended and who had come out of Ills lair deep ir the jungle to punish them. It wbs useless to offer further resistance. Those woulfl could, fled, until not onje remained alive enough to fight.

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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By Edgar Rice Burroughs

Korak, panting, paused for want of victims. The baboons, too. had tired with battle. And thus it befell that Korak drove from their homes the only people who might have aided him in his search for Meriem. Rick at heart he realized now to the full what sh*. had meant to him. Brooding, despondent, he took leave of the baboons, taking his solitary way into the deepest jungle. And all the while Meriem was scarce a hundred miles away.

_MAY 21, 1930

—By Ahern

—By Blosser,

—By Crane

—By Small

—By Cowar