The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1920-01-17
Eoening Story
Twice Won, Is Won.
By DWIGHT JINGLE SCOTT

That is a conclusion not lightly ar
rived at. To appreciate the breadth
OF his benignity you would have had
to know Sid in the days when he was
old man Parsons's drug clerk: you
would have had to pull him out some
morning at o'clock to fill the baby's
Group prescription; or to contemplate
his homely but expansive smile as ne
waited upon the three-deep row of
people who would line up for nut
sundae after the last performance at
the Orpheum: or to see him slowing
old Aunt Pliny Flaccus and dozen
bundles into the Berryville hack,
which at 4 promptly each afternoon
front of Parsons's apothecary shop.
And to sound the depths of his
| idiocy you would have TO know all
the circumstances that led to his up
and leaving. just when old man Par
sons was about to turn the business
| over to him and make him the chief
beneficiary in a will. And by rights
| you should also know the girl in the
case-but zoundsi-and likewise Mad
Tom fishes we can't go into that
now.
For the editor of this paper has de-
| cided views about modern fiction. and
| If you can't uphold virtue, expose sub
| terfuge, foil the villain and marry off
| the heroine all in the compass OF
twelve hundred words you have got to
| look for another market. That elimi-
mates Sid's past know he was a be-
nign idiot. You have got to take this
upon faith. So let's go.
| Between the Larraby House and
Simpsons Theater-and this has moth
| ing to do with the town which Sid had
left nor the girl-between the hotel
and the theater is a passageway. 1t
is wider than those passa geways down
which wash water and offending
smells come. 1t is not SO wide as en-
alley.
| A popcorn man has built a stand
which makes it blind on the Main
street end, but it is open to Wood
lawn avenue. Between the bare fire
walls the patch of sky above looks un-
| common blue, and of an afternoon
it is cool and damp and quiet there.
There is a single side door into the
hotel and small stage entrance
! across from it.
/ To make short cut, drummers
/ sometimes come in that way at noon
I and bid faithful Fridays park their
sample-laden pushcarts there. And
when, as is frequently the case. q the
atrical production finds its drops and
mechanical effects too elaborate for
Simpsons stage, they store scenery in
this passageway. So usually it is clut-
a Harlem flat building on the first of
| October.
Sid McLaren came out this little
door and glanced about like man
seeking air. Inside the boys were
llounging about and smoking and talk
ing. When the clerk handed him the
letter he looked knowingly at Sid. At
! least it seemed so to Sid. so he took
his letter, and finding some one in the
writing room finally landed on a pack
ing case in the far end of the passage
way-a sort of hidden solitude such a
letter seemed to demand.
For Sid had been expecting just this
letter. Now that it had really come.
4 the eontents-well, one never can
quite anticipate despair or citation.
Sid read the letter thru, turned it
over gaZed at the blank, reverse side,
turned it back and reread the last SEN
tence: Despite our patience you have
not been able to develop sufficient
employment. We regret that we will
have to ask you to come in at the end
of the week"
Rapt in contemplation of his owR
problem, young McLaren did not hear
the conversati ton which floated out
4 from the door at the other side of
the passa geway:
THE hussy- cat So that was why
she has been hanging around the
wings when Frieda was on But they
wouldn't dare. Marjorie. Tucker
wouldn't do dirty trick like that.
mean as he is"
'1t is already done. Here's the no.
tice. Tucker signed it." The quiet
tones of the last speaker were in con-
trast to the passionate, strained voice
of the other girl.
Here comes old Tuck now; I'm
gonna ask him. Mr. Tucker, is it true
Mrs. Hansel has been understanding
Frieda and is going to take the part
tonight?"
you mind yer own business" The
man turned his back and addressed
!, the other girl. I'm sorry. Marjorie.
honest I am. but it's Hardy's orders.
He's been sour on you ever since you
wouldn't go to that party"
She was tall. with dark chestnut hair
and a straight, firm profile. Only a
slight glisten in the big, gray eyes told
the half-dozen girls hanging in the
wings that her steady voice was only
a bit of stage business.
: Its all right, Mr. Tucker-it's all
rights Hardy's show. Then I'll
not need to stay for the understudy's
rehearsal"
Listen, grille, am sorry, and II
I was you. and you'll take an old
timers ADVICE
! But the girls head had gone M
and proudly she had walked away.
. Presently Sid McLaren became
, aware that his solitude had been in
itruded upon. Beyond a pile of trunks
some one was sobbing softly. but with
earnest abandon.
J until he could command the other side
of the pile. Tho Marjorie Blain was
; the tall Diana of the third act. curied
D up on an imitation flight of marble
' stairs, her head pillowed in the cradle
| of her arm, she seemed to big Sid
very little and very pathetic figure.
"Oh, say" he said, crawling down
beside her. st wouldn't do that.
don't know what it is all about. but II
really can't be so bad as you think il
is going to be, nor SO good, either. fol
that matter"
The sotbinp continued 1nabated
From anybody else it would have beer
audacity. But with Sid it came sim
ply and naturally as going out an6
helping Aunt Pliny F'laccus into the
hack. The girl didn't even start mol
look when his hand began to pat hel
shoulder awkwardly.
TELL us about IT. Maybe it's goo6
4 luck and you haven't discovered i
. yet-you know I've just had a little
: Jolt handed to me myself; but pshaw