Evening star., 1919-04-20

rush hour"
I'm gone" said the girl. The fat
man looked about. helplessiy.
Terry pushed her way to the edge of
the counter and leaned over. II can
play for you" she said.
The man looked at her. Sight"
Yes"
Come on"
Terry went around t othe other side
OF the counter. took off her hat and
coat. rubbed her hands together brisk
iy. sat down and began to play. The
crowd edged closer.
Terry went around to the other side
shsehan used to play She played as
no music hack at Bernie Gottschalk's s
had ever played before. Even the
crowd flowing down State street must
have caught the rhythm Of 1t. for the
room soon filled.
At 2 o'clock the crowd began to
thin. Business would be slack, until
closing time at 6.
AS the crowd dwindled she played
less feverishly. but there was moth
ing slipshod about her performance
At 4 O'clock, as she was in the cho-
rus of isn't There Another Joan of
Arc?" a melting masculine voice from
the other side OF the counter said:
Pardon me. what's that you're play
ing"
Terry told him. She did not look up
II wouldn't have known IT Played
like that--a second Marseillaise. II
the words--what are the words? Let
me see a"
show the gentleman JOAN, :"
Terry commanded briefly, over her
shoulder. The fat man laughed a
wheezy laugh. Terry glanced around.
still playing. and encountered the
gaze of two melting masculine eyes
that matched the melting masculine
voice. The songster waved a hand
uniting Terry and the eyes in in
formal introduction.
"Mr. Leon Sammett, the gentleman
who sings the Gottschalk songs
wherever songs are heard. And MRS
that is--and Mrs. Sammett-
Terry turned. A sleek, swarthy.
world old young man with the fash
ionable concave torso and alarming
ly convex bone-rimmed glasses.
Through them his darkly luminous
gaze glowed upon Terry. To escape
their warmth she sent her own gaxe
past him to encounter the arctic stare
Of the large blonde person who had
been included so lamely in the intro
duction. And at that the frigtdity
of that stare softened melted, dis
solved.
"why. Terry sheehan! What in the
world"
Terry's eyes bored beneath the lay
ers Of fabby fat. "It's-why it's Ruby
Watson, isn't It? Eccentric song and
dance"
She glanced at the concave young
man and faltered. He was not jim
of the Bijou days. In those days Jim
and Ruby Watson used to do an "ec-
centric song and dance" From him
her eyes leaped back to the fur-be-
decked splendor of the woman. The
plump face went SO painfully red that
the makeup stood out on 1t, distinct
layer, like thin ice covering flowing
water. As she surveyed that bulk
Terry realized that. while Ruby might
still claim eccentricity. her song and
dance days were over. That's ancient
history, m'dear. l haven't been work
ing for three years. What're you do
ing in this joint? I'd heard you'd done
we'll for yourself. That you were
married"
II am. That is I--well, l am. i"
At that the dark young man leaned
over and patted Terrys hand that lay
on the counter. He smiled. His own
hand was incredibly slender. long and
tapering.
That's all right" he assured her,
and smiled. you two girls can have
reunion later. What want to know
is can you play by ear?"
"Yes but"
He leaned far over the counter. Il
knew II the minute heard you play.
You've got the touch. Now. listen
See IL you can get this. and fake the
bass"
He ixed his somber and hypnotic
eyes on Terry. His mouth screwed up
into a whistle. The tune--a tawdry