Evening star., 1921-06-19
Then if you can take tomorrow off.
should be glad to drive you up there"

Siiouiu De Stdu 10 uTiNe you up tneIe
IN his account to his wife of the scene
in the impressive mansion on lower
Chestnut avenue George c. found him.
self making more of an impression on
the tired little woman than for a number
OF years preceding.
NO Miss Henrietta Brown was regis
.ered at any OF the principal hotels Of
milwaukee,. At the general delivery
window in the central post Office no in
lorna ton could be had
What it comes down to-" said MIR
Jenkins as they sat over a late luncheon
is to stay down there in the post office
| awhile and watch"
George c.. who had no fur coat. had
felt the cold during the long ride up. and
was now sneezinE. Mr.. Jenkins sent
him home on an afternoon train: and
himself stood near the general delivery
| window until O'Clock BY that time
ne was hungry again. and his feet hurt
He decided to stay overnight and con-
tinue his vigil on the morrow Then he
had dinner and drifted into a vaudeville
thnater
Those few who had known E;lberforce
Jenkins twenty-five years earlier found
difficulty in accepting him as the settled.
dfgnlfed figure he had become. Back
| in the middle eighteen -nineties as a thin,
suave youth. with lit was felt. more
/ money to spend than was good for him.
he had on numerous occasions mildly
distressed the transplated New England
ers who mainly composed the original
| population of Sunbury.
When the augmented orchestra
broke into the weird!y delightful OPEN
ing measures of the "Marche Miniature" :"
| by Tschaikowsky. and slim little
masked dancer bounded on the stage
| in tho slightest of costumes. a bewitch-
| ingly grotesque little figure, softly and
beautifully lighted and set out against
background of shimmering draperies-
Mr.. Jenkins experienced a thrill the like
| of which he could not remember in a
| swift glance back over his whole exist
| ence.
| The little person was at once ex.
| quisitely graceful. amazingly active
f, quaint. He thought of sprites and
| elves and hamadryads, of wet oak
| leaves glistening under slantinS
| November sun.
shes true artist" Jenkins re-
fected. probably Russian. or
perhaps a Hungarian. Certainly no
! American or British person ever
danced like that. In the abandon of
that strange artistry spoke out.<the
free spirit of a finely daring soul"
was driven from his mind.
Mr.. Jenkins had meant to watch
i during that next day in the post
! Office. but it had abruptly become
necessary to adapt the routine of his
life to new and great emotional
experience. Accordingly he ran back
to Chicago during the day to put
his business house in order. and re-
! turned to spend the evening again
at that vaudeville house.
ond evening of his great experience,
Mr.. Jenkins stood timidly, self-con-
sciously, like a bewildered boy. with
collar turned up and hat pulled down,
in an alley doorway. and gaZed out
of a shining dream at a slim little
person, who wore an impenetrable
veil and stepped into a closed motor
cab to be whisked of into the unfriendly
night.
ION December evening in the
city of Washington the Masked
Dancer bounded Off the stage and
stood painting. behind draperies. With
her dainty head poised slightly to
one side. she listened to the roar of
the applause from the great audi
ence. Through the mask her nearly
black eyes snapped with excite
ment. Her little hands were tightly
clenched. 1t was. she felt, the great
! moment of her life. for out there sat
the dignified President of the United
States, applauding happily. Time and
again she returned to sink on her
heel in curtsy that was in itself
a little feat in delicate acrobatic bal
ancing.
She turned her shoulders to the
waiting maid. who drew a wrap
about her. Then she found her path
blocked by the stout person of Mr..
Gentle. and the delighted sparkle left
her eyes.
"Just minute. dear" said he.
"Please let me by she ANSWERED.
mo. I wont" he retQrted. ."Not