, 1923-04-01

Clnymore took up other weapons
He hammered that usually malenbIa
little soul almost raw. Three hun.
dred dollars had gone to the waste
basket already and not a foot of nm, :
was ven spoiled yet.
Claymore did not lose his temne-
for he could see Il the child We
wrestling with his own
tear ducts. Blu: he grew anxious for
his story. IL was essential that Tho
child should weep and thousands of
feet had already been taken with tbis
scenn IN -'icw
At length he remember ed what Ter
rY mother had said. nc only cries
when he is mad"
And now he shifted his appro,c,,
He made all ready for the shot. He
pretended n deep disgust for Terry
put him off his lap with a curt: "You
arc n gutter. The trouble with Won
Is that you're not trying
I am Sc trying.' Terry rasned
%astounded.
Claymore enacted contempt. n
you're mott You're Just in an ugly,
stubborn mood. You can SEQ tbot
were all waiting here. the light crew
the camera men. You know the mic.
ture can't 90 on till we get this easv
scene finished. Mr.. woburn 9TH mn.
thor has to have this scene in his
story or it's spoiled. But what do
you care? Mr.. Bermond has pai5
you money n wants to pay Won
more, but just to spite him and ali of
us q bold back your tears"
The injustice Of this outraged the
chlids soul He stamped his foot in
THAT am sol"
1t is so. sou Claymore snapped
back and again he Haunted the red
Tag. You can cry as well as INV.
body You know that I've been
friends with you, and I thought Won
were friends with mo and with the
star and Miss Steddon here. Eut
you're worse han the little baby who
wouldn't play with tho pistol. He
didn't know any better. But you-
there's only II thing keeping YOU
from crying"
"Wha-a-at?" wh.mpered Terry. his
lips shivering. his chin puckering as
with a drawstrlns, his throat gulpinc
III Mem could hardly keep from dash.
ng to his rescue.
Claymore snarled: TITS your mean.
ness You're a dirty little alley cat,
a spiteful little alley cat"
sobbed.
o course you are. You don't be.
long on the screen. Go on back to
your alley, you cat. Go on back 10
the desert with h other cootes. we
cont want you here. because you
won't cry
"T win "a, 49,.
cryr'
claymore tossed his volce n SCI.
On you might make "a let OF su
tlesi but you wouldn't dream Of -
ing Ike a lost child, I want my -
ma
u "a my mammal" Terry nov, j.
The food broke from a sudd 10
blackened sky. Sobs shook h B ft. a
Tears spilled and darted across
tat checks. The childish treble II
wild.
Carpenters working on d,sta t
sets paused with the heart stall A
child's cry thrusts into the hreas
The electricians. the property men,
the actors and actresses, ulp ami
clenched their hands.
Terry did not see tho lights come
on at Claymore's signal. He d.d not
SEQ Claymore tap the elbows Of the
camera men nor hear the cranks sc,t-
tering.
He sobbed and sobbed while Claw
more goaded him on, giving him his
Il disguised as abuse, ST want my
mamma. You alley catr' in anti
phony with Terry's increasing an
guish.
81 want my mammal Shut up! I
want my mamma I want my mann
mar
There was something can and
cruel about 1t in Mems mind. 1t
was a form of torture, a Spanish in
QUESTION not after beliefs or comics.
sions. but after s~tored-up emotions.
Mems blood ran cold at the shame
full business Of flogging hat young
soul TO such old woes.
She was ready to rush into tho ga
cred circle of the set and attack
Claymore for his brutality. She
would lose her own career, but she
would escape completely in such a
'ow trade.
Just before she sprang to the at
tack she heard Claymore stop the
cameras with the word, "Cutr' The
first camera man called to the chief
electrician. REST 'emr' Then the
relentless t%orturer, Claymore. ran
Onward. picked Terry UP in his arms,
l rugged him to his heart. and kissed
him. mumbling:
| That's my boyl Thnt's the good,
brave artist I thought he was"
The briny victim peered through
the dripping caves of his drenched
eyelashes n said:
WAS at all right? Honest? Did
l cry good
And when Claymore groaned.
"Great9' Terry laughed aloud and
twisted Claymore's ear, kissed him.
and throttled his neck with his shert
arms as he yelled:
Mammal Mammal Mister Clay
moro says at was greatf'
Mrs. Dack ran forward to embrace
him, her heartaches turned to aches
OF pride.
In the good old days children had
been beaten incessanty; stout rods
were spoiled religiousiy TO spare the