Evening star., 1920-01-04


builder OF bridges TO place upon
his throne the builder of pantry
shelves. Gray matter and blue blood
shd white pigment are not dynasties
or mans making. Accident Of birth
ana not primogeniture makes master
minds and mulattoes. seamstresses
and rich mems sons. Wharf rats are
more often born than made
That is why, in this dynasty not of
mans making weavers gone blind
from the intrcacies of their queens
coronation robe. can kneel at her hem
to kiss the cloth of gold that cursed
them. peasant can look on at a
poet with no thought to barter his
black bread and lentils for a single
, gossamer fancy. Backstairs slaveys
vie with each other whose master is
moro mighty. And this is the story of
Mile Moores, who, with no anarchy
In her heart and no feud with the
human democracy could design for
women to whom befell the wine and
pearl dog collars of life. frocks as
sheer as web. and on her knees be-
side them, her mouth full of pins and
her sole necklace tape measure,
thrill TO see them garbed in the glory
Of her labor
indeed, when the iridescent bubble
OF reputation floated out from her
modest dressmaking rooms in East
2Sd street, Mile Moores, whom youth
has rushed past, because she had no
leisure for it, felt her heart open like
grateful flower when life brought
her more chores to do. And when one
day ext-year's-model limousine
drew up outside her small doorway.
with the colored fashion sheet stucl,
IN the glass panel. and one day an
other, and then one spring day three
OF them in shining. procession along
her curb. something cheeped in Millie
Moores' heart and she doubled her
prices.
And then because ladies long of
purse and short of breath found the
three dark flights difficult, and be-
cause the first small fruit of success
= burst in Millie Moores' mouth. re-
leasing it's taste of wine, she with
drew her three-figure savings account
from the Manhattan Trust Company.
rented an elevator service. mauye.
upholstered establishment on middle
Broadway. secured the managerial
services of a slender young man fresh
from the Louis Quinze rooms of Nine.
hoth. 9th avenue costumer, tripled
her prices and emerged from the
brown cocoon of Esd street, Nine.
Moores. mOdiste.
Two years later three perfect-36
Sibyls promenaded the mauve DISPLAY
rooms, tempting those who waddle
with sleeveless frocks that might
have been designed for the Venus Of
Milo warmed to life
The presiding young man, slim and
full of the small ways that.ingratiate,
and with pomaded glory of tow
hair ripping back in a double wave
that women's fingers itched to caress
ana mems hands itched to thrash,
pushed forward the mauve velvet
chairs with walters seEviiity, hut
none OF his humility, ofRciatea over.
the crowded pages of the, crowded
appointment book, jetted down meas
urements with an imperturbability
thet grew for every inch the tape
line measured over and above.
Last, Nine. Moores, her small fg-
ure full of nerves; two spots of red
high on her cheek; her erstwhile
graying hairs, bit premature and
but sprinkling OF them. turned to
the inward Of a new and elaborate
couture: and meeting this high tide
with a smile, newly enhanced by
brtdgework and properly restrained
to that dimension of insoIence de-
manded by the rich Of those who serve
them well.
In the springtime 9TH avenue and
Sth avenue turn tightly to thoughts
OF Narragansett pier and Bronx Park.
Fifth avenue sheds it's furs and 9Th
avenue its woolen underwear. At the
dusk OF one such day. when the taste
Of summer was like poppy leaves
crushed between the teeth. and open
street cars and open shirt waists bios
sOmed forth even as the distant lark
spur in the distant field, Nine. Moores
beheld the electric-protection door
swing behind the last customer and
relaxed frankly against table piled
high with fabrics Of dozen sheens.
"Whew, thank heaven. she's gone"
tn a EymDhOny of & clock yy jat1eS