The enterprise. [volume] (Harlem, Mont.) 1899-1926, 1909-07-21


sert his letters under her arm-like q
stage duel thrust.
In the afternoon the Millers are "a
utterly unfit to be seen as In the
morning. Should caller ring, the
Millers peek through an upper win.
dow or peer over the banisters
through the curtained glass of the
front door until the outlined indemnity
Of the caller is somewhat established.
If she be an ultra-fashionable, she is
allowed to ring herself to finish and
to depart. Then, after a safe lapse of
minutes, a Miller opens the door to an
infinitesimal extent and secures the
callers card. If the ringer be we'll
known friend, she is admitted through
as narrow gap as is compatible
with her width and thickness, and is
entertained in back room.
During the hours of day every Mil
Ter has her front hair up and her
back hair down. She has her waist
outside of her skirt belt, and lots OF
chance lattice-work showing where 1t
has no business to show. She is col
larless and girdleless, but she is also
unconcerned and unashamed. Briefly,
the Millers look upon day as bore,
endurable only as the necessary pre-
cursor Of the blessed night. With the
going up of the gas the Millers begin
to live. Like magic, W comes their
back hair and down comes their
front. Immaculate hosiery and foot.
wear are donned. Each pretty face
loses It's daylight indifference and be-
gins to sparkle and dimple.
AS the outside darkness deepens,
the Miller house brightens. One after
another, their window shades fly up,
and the brilliantly illuminated rooms
are visible to all by-passers who care
to look. Not moment are callers
kept waiting now. The house soon
throngs with guests, mostly men.
Among them move the Millers, all
gowned with careful and effective
neatness. The piano tinkles, voices
ring in musical unison, charming
laughter bubbles out.
Millers and Millerites leak into the
street, there to converse merrily in
the dark-a little too merrily, some
of us think-we who have outgrown
the sweet witchery of stars and moon
and prosily like to be abed by ten.
Personally think there is no sound
more inane and mirthless than the
would-be merriment of people think
should be asleep.
Some of us wonder rather glumly If
the Millers go to bed at all. For
every midnight, savory odors of cook
ing steal from their walls, and their
china jingles. Their laughter gets
louder. Or perhaps it only sounds
louder because the street cars have
stopped running.
What Ia really trying Is the time of
good-bys. That comes between one
and three o'clock If the callers would
80 in bunch, 1t wouldn't be so bad,
but they go like Browns cows, one
after another, and each one cordially
keeps on good-bying for the length of
a block, and is as cordially answered
by faithful Miller from her door.
step.
Beulah's callers are mostly college
boys. and they are prone to MARBLE
their observation-disclosures for mile.
We rather like to hear Bule's friends
coming-it sounds melodious in the
early evening. But part songs at two
o'clock at night-in the ears of a man
who has to be shaving at six-are ad-
missibly damnable. And there is one
OF the singers who invariably remem-
bers that he hasn't repeated certain |
joke to Beulah. He remembers this
when halfway downtown; but, undis. |
mayed by distance, he proceeds to re-
count It, his fresh young voice send |
ing warning in stentorian: "Oh, say,
Bullet" But don't let's talk about
this.
When all the jewellers finally de-
part, do the Millers sleep? They EN-.
phatically do not. They sit in the |
open and chat things over. HAPPY,
Amy Miller gets an Industrious At and |
cuts out shirt waist. To keep her
in countenance, Mrs. Miller has not |
been unknown to go down into the |
basement and put lace curtains into !!
midnight soak. Some say she has
even washed and starched them then.
This Is hard to believe; but 1t is real
ly on record that Mallie Miller thinks |
nothing of baking a cake at 1 a. M,
which they all wait for and eat. There
is nothing a Miller won't do after 10 |
o'clock at night-except go to bed.
They house-clean like bats. Often |
of midnight, when some of us on
the street have been coming home
from the theater, we have noted a
Miller window being washed by a |
ghostly Miller arm not visibly at
tached to any Miller body. Others
of us, opening late easement for
the hurtling of can toward a cat
chorus, have heard in the Miller
house the regular muf1led rap of a
tack hammer, putting down carpets.
Oh, we'll, there is nothing crfmin.
al in the Millers' fad. Then. again, It
is wrong. And they are being pun.