The new era., 1909-07-29

stage duel thrust.
In the afternoon the Millers are as
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 indentity
of the caller is somewhat established
If she be an ultra-fashionable, she is
allowed to ring herself to a finish and
to depart. Then, after safe lapse of
minutes, Miller opens the door to an
infinitesimal extent and secures the
callers card. II the ringer be we'll
known friend, she is admitted through
as narrow a gap as is compatible
with her width and thickness, and is
entertained In a 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.
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, up 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 a moment are callers
kept waiting now. The house soon
throngs with guests, mostly men.
Among them move the Mfllers, 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 merrfly, 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 slumly 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 is really trying is the time of
good-bys That comes between one
and three o'clock. If the callers would
go in bunch. it wouldn't be so bad.
but they go like Browns cows. one
after another, and each one cordially
keeps on goodbying for the length of
block. and is as cordially answered
by . faithful Miller from her door
step.
Beu1ah's callers are mostly college
boys, and they are prone to warble
their farewells-sometimes for mile.
We rather like to hear Bule's friends
early evening. But part songs at two
o'clock at night-fn the ears Of man
who has to be shaving at sfx-are ad.
missfbly 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. undfs
mayed by distance, he proceeds to re-
count It, his fresh young voice send
ing warning in stentorian: "Oh. say
Bule." 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 fit 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 cake at 1 a. M.
which they all wait for and eat. There
is nothing a Miller won't do after 12
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
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 muffled rap of a
tack hammer, putting down carpets.
oh, well, there is nothing Grimm
al in the Millers' fad. Then. again, 1t