Fitzgerald leader enterprise and press. (Fitzgerald, Ben Hill County, Ga.) 1921-1964, 1922-03-09

from the rear windows of the rear ON
nibuS Mr.. AL Delano's white face,
straining backward.
Charley Lee exhaled loudly, wiped
at his hatband and started across the
tracks.
At his side step, light and full of
indecision.
'Leew
"LO!"
A cloud spread over his brow, i'm
mediately evaporating into smile.
'If it amt the baby-dOll! Why amt
you in one of the busses, kiddo?"
She slid timid arm into his.
'l-aw, there wasn't any ROOM"
They burst into simultaneous ex-
plosion of laughter.
wasn't any room! The little devil
wanted to walk up with me. Wasn't
any room! Cad, can you beat some Of
'em for nerve?"
Il can dress in five minutes, Lee. \
Il got my knickerbockers for the
prance On-on underneath"
weeks salary for travelling In your
wardrobe"
Like fun you would!''
"Gad, can you beat it for nerve7 How
the little devil talks backi" ~e-t-
They turned up quiet street, where
trees met over their heads in a melan-
choly arch, and on both sides of the
road, we'll back, lights glowed behind
drawn shades and the gabled silhou-
cites Of cottages showed through the
darkness.
He linked her arm with a slow, in
gratiating movement.
Love me, baby-doll7"
"Sillyl"
you and my friend AL was pretty
thick all the way up from Higgins
vile, l see, just the same. Watch out
on his bar tonight, kiddo; that was
nearly nasty fall last night. That's
what you get for treating me SO cold"
Didn't! Gee, the way you was flirt-
ing with me from the wings and all
was enough to give any girl the shiv-
ers.''
That's what l give you, the shiv-
ers, is 1t? I'm some little shiver-giver,
amt l, kid? At that, you only flung
me stingy rose instead of the wreath.
Stingy! Stingyl"
Jaw, know you. You don't mean
nothing you say to me. Why should
I al hot
mean nothing he says to me2"
Dol"
"Say, amt this n swell little town.
Lee? The first decent tank I've SEEN
Looka in there, will you? All eating
supper around the table like regular
folks. Neat, amt it? Looka--kids and
the old granny and all. Lookaw
Good little town. We play re-
turn in April. Neat, clean, little
dump, and a good show town"
Jaw, looka that cute little red
rooted cottage with the weather-cocR
whirling around over the porch, brand
new and all. Say, amt that cute?
wouldn't mind renting that myself"
Eyes, you would You stick to me
kiddo, and see if what l tell you abOu
the Amsterdam Roof don't come true?'
Honest, LeeT"
cav, but what's the use treating {
little girl like you white. when she
acts so cold and touchy the minute {
fellow tries to get loving with her. Yol
bet your life Flossie would have flunl
me her wreath last night If / ha(
winked for it; she amt cold little
baby-doll like YOU"
T-"
whats the use trying to help g
little girl that amt got no tempera
ment, when she's as cold as ashes
Them amt my kind. Temperament Is
what you got to have in this business
ginger"
Where the trees met darkest above
their heads, so that not even the stars
pecped through. she stood suddenly
on tip-toe so that her eyes. bluer than
Italian waters. We're parallel with his.
How how much-temperanen
does girl have to have, Lee, tO-tG
get ahead? Huh? Honest, Lee, I'm
green in this game and | want more'n
girl ever did to get ahead. How much
temperament does she have to have,
LeeY'
For answer he leaned over and
kissed the curved line where her lips
met.
The acte de, resistance of the Forty
Thieves" extravaganza opened with a
stealthy plucking of muted violin
strings--a device popular for the mys-
terry it twangs and insinuates. Grad
ual lights disclosed a papier-mache
cave glowing with unsupported sta
lactites and stalagmites and a bent
backed, puSSy-footed chorus of red
hooded gnomeS winding through its
subterranean labyrinths. Tip-toe! Tip
toe! Tip-toe!
A tremolO of drums rumbed to ar
ear-splitting crescendo, and four wind
sprites, tossing their veily draperieS
bounded from the red mouths of foul
up-stage caves, singing an Off-key sup
pliance to the Storm King and sustain
ing high G with faces strained anC
stained to deep vermilion. From the
right wing, in shirt-sleeves and with ar
eye to nature, Mr.. Charley Lee direct
ed the lightning, and between flashes
manipulated the wind machine. Above
the song of the gale his voice rose and
fell through the improvised megaphone
of his cupped hands.
Hurry them ponies back there
swing 'em On-dang it, swing 'em on
Speed 'er up back there-speed