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Newspaper Page Text
JOE, THE BIGAMIST
By George Munson
(Copyright by W. G. Chapman.)
All the boys in Garrison's office
wanted him to givethem a chance on
the stage. Rarely Garrison did try
one of them, but it didn't work. As
he said, plaintively: "I hire a $25-a-week
clerk because he's a clerk. If
he "was an actor, what would he be
doing at a clerk's desk' No, sir; I've
had my patience tried long enough.
Clerks and actors don't mix."
The genial actor-manager had a
-.core of offices in different cities, but,
of course, New York was his head
quarters. There some dozen young
men arranged his numerous affairs,
redrafted plays, shooed off fair appli
cants and, in the interim of their du
ties, bitten by the strange, insatiable
stage lust, begged the kindly old man
to try them out at the same salary
Robertson had been the most per
sistent Perhaps he might in time
have worried "Pop" Garrison to give
him a walking part; but he became ill
with appendicitis and one morning
his desk was empty, and only a pa
thetic scrawl from Mrs. Robertson in
dicated that he was in the hospital.
"Sure' Pay him each week till he
gets well," said Garrison to the cash
ier. "His wife writes she'll be down
each Saturday to collect. Pay her
vhen she comes in."
Promptly at noon on Saturday a
lump, fluffy-haired little blbnde pre
sented herself at the cashier's desk.
3he wrote her receipt m a laborious
'land and took her $25 gratefully.
"Hello! How did you get in here?
We don't want any ladies in any
thing," sung out Pop Garrison, who
happened to be passing. "Good lord!
You ladies would get past an electric
harged wire fence fitted with gatling
"I'm Edna Robertson," said the lit
tle woman demurely. "My husband"
"Good lord' I beg your pardon, ma
dam," said Garrison. "How is your
husband? Doing well7 I'm glad of
that. Tell him his desk's waiting for
him as soon as he's back again."
"Nice little woman," he commented
to the cashier. "I didn't know Rob
ertson was married, come to think
of it. If I had a wife like that I'd
I'd go off my head."
Every week for a month little Mrs.
Robertson duly appeared at the cash
ier's window promptly at 12 on Sat
urday, received the money and signed
Leaving the Two Men Flabbergasted
for it. And every time she announced
that he husband was doing well. "He
will be back soon," she said on the
On the fifth Saturday she did not
appear. But in the afternoon there
appeared in place of her a slim and
rather tall brunette. She made her
way to the cashier's window.
"I've come for my husband's
money," she announced.
"Eh?" asked the cashier.
"My name is Flora Robertson, and;