The Salt Lake herald-Republican. [volume] (Salt Lake City, Utah) 1909-1918, 1909-09-05

| He isn't my husband, he's
80 much the wOrse!"
Now don't get colorfui."
Worse fer him, I mean
The doorkeeper was fat, Ted-faeed,
/ unbuttOned object with one mouth and
three chins.
Look here. my good fellow" I be-
| gan Practically, I'm"
- don't care who you are! Thems
my orders-there on the wall; NO
| flowers on stage without special per
mission No notes after the half-hour.
| No visitors at rehearsals.' And he
put his cigar back IN his mouth.
"Stung." said Miss ST. Claire.
She had been turned down. Her hu-
initiation drowned her suyety for mo-
ment. She looked worn out. She was
facing she couldn't tell how many
hours of drill under that grun mascu-
line voice whose blasphemy reached the
street. I felt sorry for her again, anG
| said so.
Never mind" she replied. EARLY to
bed and early to rise, and you won't
meet any prominent people. Twelve at
| Sherry's-and don't forget the ma
chine"
Now, where could I get a machine?
One way or another, had to beg, Dor
row or steal a motor. Rent one I could
not; I couldn't afford to do so on a
hundred-dollar proposition. Besides. if
they refused TO let me do the driving
myself, imagine the disdain with which
Miss st. Claire would greet the advent
Of a public chauffeur, even an ideal
deaf, dumb and blind gooseberry She
would probably say: "COises, you have
deceived muh!" or some other little
classic that would collect q crowd.
BY twelve o'clock I was hOarse from
= l. III
to a motor was a gasoline tandem with
the tire gone from the rear wheel BY
| the time I reached Sherry's I was tast-
ing the penalty Of posing as
man of unlimited means-and
speed lubber." As crossed the
door mat. the usher hand
ed me a message from Miss St. Claire,
to say that she would not be able to
leave rehearsal, which would last until
4 o'clock. Poor girl. 1 debated whether
I should send her a little hamper Of
! lunch; they surely at Sherry's would
know what so obviously an old Gus
toner liked. On the second thought,
| however. everything considered. this
| struck me as rather Quixotic on my
| part, and I with haste welcomed the
| reflection that some one would Of course
| send in bird and a cold bottle to stay
| her appetite.
HAT checked sir?''
mo, thank yOur'-Oniy faster than
| that
Sherry's? A hundred-dollar article?
| Me for Childs'. 1 walked back to
! Broadway and, with a glance around,
/ dove into one of these midday stop
| overs where a white-capped chef
/ browns dough hassOcks in the window
| and a pyramid of toothpicks, stove
wood brand, gives you the glad hand at
/ the door. And there. to my amazement,
/ at the first table, sat Miss St. Claire,
| finishing a triangle of squash pie and
| a glass of milk, Needless to say, I re-
| treated as stealthily as possible. 1 shall
| never forget the cashiers suspicious
| look. Miss st. Claire in Childs? Van
! gle? NisdeaI!
I The first man I met as I turned the
! corner was an old friend from Gold
/ field, who many a night had supped
| with me on bean soup and jack rabbit.
| or jack rabbit and bean soup, for it
| was as often one way as the other,
/ over a fire of cactus thOTus in the
desert. There we had used a home
made steam flyer which hit the sage
] tUfted innocence of road only now and
/ then. and I wondered if he had come
overland In il or brought it along to
hurdle the skyscrapers. Him I lunched
| at Sherry's, the while telling my trou-
bles. No, he hadn't brought the old
steam cOmet-doggast it,-but he had
just connected with a new ninety horse
power racer-two seats-painted red. If
! I wanted to take the skirt out driving.
I could have that for the afternoon. But
don't kill no chickens.
It was a very tired little lady that I
helped into the red dragon at AIS, but
| I knew the fresh air would revive her
after the fatigue Of that inhuman re-
hearsaI.
"Oh, but you're a dearw exclaimed
Miss st. Clair, as we picked our way
| out Broadway, the siren under my foot
moaning softly. It's so nice to meet
a man you don't have to snub in five
minutes. In this business a girls life
is one perpetual Please don't-Listenp
Nov prOmiser It's the change that
gets over with me-"
shall 1 get you bite?"
mo; it would spoil my dinner And,
| say, man, we must dine early. I can't
| sing when I'm all choked up with par
| fridge and Tiffany waterW This was a
nice gentle hint. Partridge and cham
payne, chi Oh, very well. Plainly this
| would be a day educational rather than
profitable. Miss St. Claire resumed:
But there's one thing you can get me. "
nat.
| Cum"
Where do 1 buy it?"
There's a slot machine in every Sub
way station"
We sped through Central Park, now
| wide-awake, with the afternoon over
flow Of the city, the dog-carts and bur
nished victOrias, the rheumatic grandes
| danes and aromatic petites danes, and
along the Drive to Grants Tomb Miss
ST. Claire, her hat off, drinking the
| fresh, chill autumnal air ecstatfCally.
the rush of it smoothing the WEAKNESS
| from her face, the jaws of us both go
ing camelwise. Mine lasted five miles.
What do you do with this stuff when
your jaws lie down and quit?" I asked,
/ resting with my mouth open. like a
thirsty desert bird.
Don't swallow it," said Miss st.
Claire, calmly. 1T might get in your
verma. Aren't those pretty begonias"
Those are geraniums," I explained
politely.
"Oh, those are geraniums, are they?
! You see, I don't know one flower from
another, but begonia is a pretty name,
so 7 call them all begonias. Amt this
grandr'
Grand was the word for it. The trees
had put on their Joseph's coats of many
colOrs, and the leaves swan glOssily in
the slant afternoon light. Across the
water fell a shimmering crimson car
pet, and distant windows glowed like a
brood Of suns. On all sides were mag
nifcence and plendor-mansions of
I wealth and poT7frc 7,raefTo1 ,,rrcv.