The Washington times., 1938-02-18

rickety as the chairs. The un-
painted cellar walls are hung with
execrable pictures painted by
artists" in the neighborhood. A
lot of these frequent the place
and, if they were the only custom
ers, the Yellow Door would have
been closed for good long time
ago.
The place is run by Sammy
Weiss, large, fat young man,
who makes just enough money to
keep the place and himself going.
Sammy is quite character in
the village. Everybody likes him.
The Yellow Door never did
have money enough to hire pro-
fesSional entertainment. 1t and
Sammy. its proprietor, were al
ways lucky when they gathered
enough to pay the bill. Sammy
solved the entertainment problem
by encouraging the customers to
entertain themselves.
PRETTY SMOOTH
However. Sammy did hire one
entertainer, not for any reasons
connected with good sense or
commercialism, but because he
thought it was his duty. She was
Anne Tovarich, an old gypsy
woman from the steppes of Rus
sia. She came to him starving
one night and asked for a meal.
To pay for it. she offered to
read his hand. Bending over it,
she told him that some day he
would marry a girl much younger
than himself whom he would
have saved from some terrible
danger. She couldn't tell him
exactly what the danger was, but
peering close, she pretended that
she saw herself mixed uD in it
some way. Then she looked up
at him and asked him if he had
place for her to sleep, and, If
he didn't. could he lend her a
little silver 50 that she might
sleep that night in comfort.
Sammy stared back at her and
lauehed.
Anna" he said, "you're a
pretty smooth old lady. You tell
me you're a Russian gypsy. Then
YOU move yourself in on my life
by pretending that only through
you can I meet my lovely future
wife. You're a great kidder."
AN AGELESS WOMAN
Anna didn't say anything. 1t
was then he looked at Anna for the
first time and saw
An ageless woman, who might
have been 80 or 100. Her hai1
was still Jet black, though there
were streaks of gray in it. Her
skin was dark and like parchment
There seemed to be no oil in It,
It reminded him vaguely OF a
mummy'S.
She was thin almost to emacia
ton. But her eyes held him.
They were as young as a baby'S, as
old as time. They were black and
opaque, like a hard jewel. In them
was all the knowledge in the
world. They were cold but they
were burning and, looking into
them, Sammy felt himself growing
drowsy. He blinked rapidly to
shake off the effect and said:
Anna, excuse me for kidding
you. I don't know who you are
but you're. somebody. I'll give you
money for. a room for a week
Do what you want with it. If you
want to come back here and read
peoples palms, then you have
job and all that you make is
yours"
Anna smiled family.
WAS GOOD SINGER
"You are kind and good" she
said. And I will tell you a little
of who I am. I am Anne Tow
arich. I was born in Ukai in the
Ural Mountains of White Russia.
] am a Gypsy. When I was little
girl, my father took me to ST.
Petersburg and I lived there under
rooves and that made me an out
cast from my people.
when I grew to be a young
maiden, was very beautiful and
was a good singer. And one
day, Chechov, Don CosSack, who
loved fine voices, heard me sinG
and he bundled me up and took
me to the Imperial Cabaret. And
there was trained by an old man
named Pulaski, a Pole with gor
geous voice.
you see me an old woman now
Helm? You see me ageless, a hag
Can you understand that onct
was beautiful?"
"Yes," Sammy said, It can un
.derstand it. And you look it
The ghost of your beauty is still
about you as it is about all OLE
women who have once been beau
tiful."
"You are a flatterer." Sh
smiled. "But you have the truth
Women who have been beautiful
always keep its ghost. So then
was ready to sing before the In
perial family. And, one day,
was commanded to appear kefor
the Car and the Czarina anu tn
Czarevich and his sisters.
$50 I sang that day. and a ma
watched me. A man whose eye
pierced my soul through my ow
eyes, and I looked into his an
stopped singing because my voic
was gone. was paralyzed.
Then he walked to me. H