The Bozeman courier., 1926-06-25
published by special arrangement witt
the Chicago Tribune Syndicate).
IN TWO PARTs-PART TWO
NE ETORY % EAT


Her name was Jeanette Marie Joseph
Inc POulain, but Bobby Ross, assistant
to Murray O'Brien, famous movie direc-
tor, had dubbed her Peanut"
Mrs. Murray O'Brien is much troubled
over the report that her husband has
been paying his attentions 70 Peanut,
and has voiced her opinion in no uncer-
tain terms. Of all movie girls, to her
friend, Elise Lord. Elise knew very
little OF Peanut, but had ran across her
during the filming Of a play; at which
time Peanut had dared to beard the lion,
Murray O'Brien, in his den Of work.
Peanut was a French girl Of a large
family. who had had been attracted to
Hollywood and who was making good up
until the time Of the slump. Bobby Ross
had many times befriended her. One day
Murray O'Brien discovered her in front
Of a restaurant, and hungry.
And. now the story
But Murray O'Brien had that strange
yearning over lost dogs and homeless cats
and down and out men and women to
which his race had been slave for genera
tiOns. And he was himself that night in one
Of those fits Of black depression and pur-
pie melancholy that beset him.
She was standing outside a little candy
store, with her small, impudent nose
pressed against the glass. Ell noticed her
because Of the drOOp Of her shoulders and
the sag of her body, as though the nearest
breath Of wind would crumple her. Though
!
cause he knew what that drOOp meant.
The hOmeWard bound traffic in Holly
wood boulevard clattered and hOnked and
buzzed behind them. In the faces Of all
LeOple was that tired eagerness to get
home. A mellow darkness was beginning
to blot out the lingering twilight. The big
boulevard lights winked on. The thud OF
hurrying feet on the sidewalk seemed tC
say "HOme-hOme- home"
She looked up and met his eyes, and tried
/ very hard to smile.
Hello she said, cit is nice to see the
] lights in there, Ell? This time, at home
and shouts big and we all gather around
and eat-such good soup she makes, my
mother. There is a fire, too"
The inconsistencies welled up and caugh
her by the throat Her chin quivered.
! "EeVeryOne is so good here" she saiC
apOlOgetically, "but sometimes it is very
! lonesome"
And she leaned her forehead against tn,
plate glass window and began to cry, 81
/ that she could no longer see the pink su
gar kewpie and the Ornately frosted whit
cake.
Murray O'Brien moved close to her side
Odd how memory awakens. For Murra!
could remember a big room, on the ives
coast Of Ireland, with a peat fire burning
and candles, and the cold drizzling rail-
against the window pane and children
voices. Children's voices. In the innermOs
/ secret place of his being, that was tn
chord that vibrated when the word hOm
touched him.
'Why you poor little kid said the grea
director, who had only just turned thirt
himself. 81 never realized. Look here-yO
don't look very well. Are you just home
sick?"
Peanut gave the tinyest shrug Il al
not quite uP to my pep" she siad. Jus
a little something. Maybe-it is the foo
here / think it is the food. There is tn
slump do not work too much lately
and your American food is different frOI
ours. At home, one can live well on sOHI
but here" Again she shrugged.
"GOOd Cod" said Murray O'Brien, "haV
you been trying to live on sOup?"
. But sometimes one is lucky to hay
soup, monsieur" said Jeanne Marie JOSEPH
inc POulain, with a reprOachful glance {
her reflection in the window. Sometimes
! the war, we have only potatoes and cal
bages. am not fond of potatoes and cal
t bages, me-"
| The sparkle was beginning to come bacl
a little human conversation meant a grei
deal to Peanut. She loved her kind. An
the rank and file of the studios is as col
stantly shifting as the sands Of the Sc
: Gypsy friendships, only, a touching
hands in PASSING, a bright greeting tOda