Evening star. [volume], March 29, 1936, Page 10, Image 86

About Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972

Image provided by: Library of Congress, Washington, DC

                
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w
Continued from page four
"To the Drakes,” he reminded her.
"Phil, you can't go looking like
that.”
He surveyed the ruin of his fair
flannels and looking up saw her face
shaken again by unwilling mirth. “I
have other trousers,” he said with
dignity and led the way uphill.
Meekly, she followed him.
In his room, he changed his sopping
shoes, put on his spare pair of flannels
and brushed traces of Pluto’s havoc
from his jacket. He wished he were
packing to go back to town. He feared
he could not dwell an entire week-end
in the presence of Melissa and the
imminent Bob Wallace without disas
ter. So steeped in misery was he that
he lingered in his chamber. Melissa
called at last and he opened his door
in such haste that he tripped upon
the puppy who lay beyond the thresh
old like a prayerful Moslem.
Meredith spoke to Pluto. His words,
he felt, fitted the occasion, but they
were recklessly chosen and louder than
he thought. Melissa waited in the
lower hall. The meek silence in which
she had come back from the hill had
vanished. Her face was bright and her
voice crisp.
"I don’t see, Phil, just because
you’re angry with me, why you have
to abuse an innocent puppy.”
"Innocent!” he snorted. “Don’t
make me laugh.”
“You’ve a nice sense of humor," she
told him. "The right rear tire on the
roadster is flat. I suppose that will
throw you into guffaws."
“It only means.” he surrendered,
“that we can’t go to the Drakes.”
“Listen,” Melissa told him, “you
wanted to go to the Drakes and we're
going if — if I have to change that
tire myself.”
“Don’t be childish,” he advised.
“I’ll do it, of course.”
"I didn't think you knew how," she
said sweetly.
“I know much you don’t think I
know,” he retorted and hoped his
double-edge speech had cut her. As he
stormed out to the crippled roadster,
Pluto padded along behind.
Even in his calm moments, Mere
dith's gift for mechanics was slight.
Now, emotion unsteadied hands and
mind. Wherefore, in the ardent August
sun. he pottered about the car and
blundered and fumbled and had the
uncomfortable feeling that, from some
where in the house, Melissa observed
him.
Pluto was an added affliction. Mere
dith stumbled over him twice, stepped
on his tail once and longed many times
to kick him. The puppy must have
felt his yearning, for presently he
vanished. At last, the tools were
restored to their crypt and the man
stepped back with a sigh.
“All ready,” he called and Melissa
came out with suspicious promptitude.
“Have any trouble?" she asked.
“No.” He mopped his face. She
considered the result of his labors and
her dismay was so obvious that it
shocked him before she managed to
say: “That dimwit. Walker, never
fiipd it.”
“Fixed what?"
She pointed at the tire over which
he had struggled. "The spare was flat,
too. It got punctured days ago and
Walker forgot to mend it."
He looked from her to his grimed
and scored hands. "Nice of you,” he
said at last, “to tell me.”
"I thought you had eyes,” she
answered. “Where’s Pluto? Pluto!
Plu-uto!”
A hollow groan answered her. She
stared at her companion, who saw
with horror that her dignity was col
lapsing into mirth.
"Philip Meredith,” she began,
“you’ve — you’ve — ” She pointed a
shaking finger at the roadster. “You've
trapped —Pluto!” she gasped.
From beneath came grunts and
wheezes of mounting concern and a
good deal of scraping. A long foreleg
was thrust out under the running
board. It clawed vainly at the yielding
earth and was withdrawn. Meredith
saw the whites of two alarmed eyes.
“He got under,” Melissa wept,
“while you had the rear jacked up and
now he can’t — get out.”
Stonily. Meredith strode to the car
and exhumed the jack. Penned in the
beloved retreat that had become a
jail, Pluto uttered a crescendo of
moans while Meredith again raised
the car’s rear axle. At length, the
puppy crawled out and shook himself
in a dust cloud.
“I’m so sorry," Melissa told Mere
dith, “I honestly am. but, Phil, it was
funny.”
“Doubtless,” he answered.
At his voice, Pluto pricked dangling
ears. His foggy mind absorbed the fact
that the fascinating stranger had been
his rescuer.
“Careful," Melissa shrieked.
"Pluto!”
Love and gratitude turned the
puppy deaf. He thrust his vast in
gratiating bulk against the man.
Melissa gave a shrill cry. Meredith
looked down at his flannel trousers —
his only remaining flannel trousers.
Grease that the puppy had swabbed
from the running gear lay on the pure
raiment in many black smears.
The hush that follows catastrophe
spread over the Clays' backyard.
Melissa was pale. She sought words to
mitigate the atrocity but, after a
single glance at Meredith’s bleak face,
held her peace. Pluto contorted him
self to rout a flea, with a hideous, an
affronting self-absorption.
The man said in a voice of dreadful
mildness: "I think you had better ex
cuse me.”
“Phil,” the girl began desperately,
but he marched into the house.
Melissa was waiting in the living
room when Meredith came down
stairs. Indignant roarings rose in the
backyard, where Pluto clanked the
chain that tethered him to his kennel.
Perforce, the man wore the suit in
which he had arrived, a hopeful week
end guest. But he wore his hat, too,
and his suitcase, lie said politely:
“Tell your mot her that I got a tete
gram calling me back to town.”
She was even paler than he, but her
voice was quiet. “Aren’t you being a
little childish, Phil?” she asked.
“Possibly. Goodbye, Melissa.”
“Phil,” she said with odd anxiety,
“I won’t let you go. You can’t go.
There’s no car to take you.”
“I’m going to walk,” he answered
and turned toward the door.
“Does it occur to you that you’re
being very rude and — and heartless?"
Mis face grew red but color did not
soften it. “Weren’t you heartless," he
asked, “to invite me here when you
were engaged to Bob Wallace? You
can omit the look of surprise, Melissa’
Your mother made me welcome by
telling me. She and you and that
damned dog haven't been exactly
polite.” She tried to break in but the
hushed violence of his speech swept
her words away. “You’re heartless.
You’re a selfish little flirt—and I
love you more than everything else in
life. That's the exit line ol my scream
ingly comic act. You and Bob can
laugh your heads off at it."
"Phil!" she called. "Oh Phil — ”
The slam of the front door cut her
off.
Dust clogged Meredith’s progress.
The suitcase banged against his leg.
Yet he marched on. The drama of his
departure sustained him. He had at
least disowned the role of clown for
which Melissa and Pluto had cast him. '
He winced at memory of her hurt
look, cursed himself for a fool and
shifted the suitcase to his other hand.
The road lay empty ahead —- a sym
bol of his future, he told himself.
He thought a runaway horse bore
down upon him. He wheeled and
found he had exaggerated his solitude.
Meredith leaped aside and the foiled
Pluto slid past, all brakes set, whipped
around and came galumphing back.
Pluto's ears Happed, his tail was a
blur, the body between displayed all
the crraticism of poor co-ordination,
but in the sorrowful eyes below the
beetling brow were love unutterable
and the joy of reunion.
"Gohome,” Meredith snarled. "Go
home, you — ” No lack of invective
checked him. Pluto sprang upon his
beloved, who reeled and dropped his
suitcase and at last pushed the dog
down. "Get out of here!” the man
stormed, with the ghastly impotence
of nightmare. '"Gohome!”
Inspection of his plight increased
his horror. He could not march to the
station, squired by a gargantuan and
mildly insane Newfoundland puppy.
He picked up a stone and flung it.
■'Go home,” he yelled "or I’ll — ”
Pluto had looked startled as the
stone had whizzed past and now
bounded away. Meredith grinned,
then groaned. With the missile in his
mouth, the pup returned, gambolling.
He laid the stone at Meredith's feet
and looked up eagerly.
“Oh Lord,” the man surrendered
and retraced his steps. About him,
Pluto ranged in dishevelling glee. He
leaped on stone walls to the clatter of
dislodged boulders. He beat up a dust
storm by frenzied galloping along the
road, and he ranged through the
fields like embodied havoc.
Meredith walked on tiptoe past the
empty porch. The house seemed de
serted. He might tether Pluto more
securely and Hee again, unobserved.
He stole into the backyard. By the
kennel. Melissa waited.
Sun-smitten hair was a glory above
her face. Her fairness pierced even the
leathery sensibilities of the puppy,
who bore down upon her, roaring. She
bent and gathered the great dark head
to her bossom. Meredith found him
self walking toward her. He babbled:
“He got loose somehow. He followed
me. I had to — **
She rubbed her cheek against the
velvety, domed forehead of the New
foundland. “He slipped his collar,” ,
Melissa said. “I saw him start after
you. 1 let him go. He wanted so ter
ribly to bring you back — he and —
and — ”
He heard himself ask hoarsely:
"And who else?”
She lifted her face and looked at
him squarely. “I’m not going to marry
Bob,” she said. “Mother was— mis
taken. I’m going to marry — "
“Whom?” he prompted at last.
“You,” Melissa cried, "if only you
ever get around to asking me.”
Pluto, the recently embraced, sat
beside them. After a time, he uttered
a wistful, neglected moan.
The End
Behind That Mouth—
Continued from page two
mas Eve of 1915. "We spent our
honeymoon in the subway.”
Three years later, on January 1,
Prevost had dinner with Joe and his
wife.
At a nod from Mrs. Brown, Prevost
said, "Joe, let’s make a resolution.”
"What is it?” asked Joe.
"That you go your way and I'll
go mine.”
"Why — after eleven years — we’re
pals.”
“That’s why —"explained Prevost.
"You’recarrying me — you’rea great
comedian, and I’m just another
acrobat.”
"What do you think?” Joe inno
cently asked his conspiring wife.
"Whatever he says.” She nodded
tactfully toward Prevost.
"Well,” — Joe looked at his wife
— "I can’t get over $75 a week as a
‘single,’ and we split $500 this way.”
“And you’re still a couple of acro
bats,” flared the young lady who had
long ago walked out on his act. "Let's
take the chance,” she added.
They went their different ways.
Within three months Joe was given
a five-year contract at $300 a week
to tour in road shows.
He told his shrewd young wife.
She was not pleased. “Now listen,
dear: The Lord didn’t give you such
an individual mouth for nothing —
talk yourself right out of that con
tract. It will keep you in the sticks for
five years. And you belong on Broad
way, and then in pictures.”
He was released from the contract.
The season ended, they went to
Syracuse, where Prevost was playing.
He took them to see "Listen, Lester.”
“It closes in a week—the lead
goes to New York,” Prevost ex
plained "I want you to see the show,
then we'll go to John Cort — he’s in
town now.” He paused. “Or, better
yet, let Kathryn go to him. She can
sell you.”
Mrs. Brown called on Mr. Cort.
That gentleman was convinced.
Joe rehearsed for twenty-four hours
and stepped into the lead.
Character seldom changes. With
the courage of the nine-year-old boy
running down the narrow chute, he
sauntered through the role.
His wife was convinced. So was
Prevost. Together they watched for a
pleased expression on Cort’s face.
There was none.
Kathryn and Prevost waited for
Joe in his dressing-room.
John Cort came.
He shook hands with the comedian,
saying,“I watched your performance.
I'm still closing the road show.”
Brown’s heart sank. Then Cort
said, "I want you to open in New
York next week.”
All of Joe’s large mouth was unable
to say a word.
Mrs. Brown spoke up, "Thank you,
Mr. Cort. I’m sure we’ll make good.”
Cort smiled kindly. “I know you
will.” Then, pointing to her still
speechless husband, “He has a great
future, Mrs. Brown.” He bowed.
"Meet me in New York Monday.”
Casual as dawn are the important
episodes in our lives.
"I told you. Joe, you were more
than an acrobat — now, didn’t I?”
Prevost was saying.
“Yes, you did, old pal."
“And me, too,” put in Mrs. Brown.
“That’s right, sweetheart.”
After long years of wandering, he
was at last to appear on Broadway.
He waited in his dressing-room an
hour before the curtain call.
A messenger came. The Actors
Equity had called a strike — there
would be no show that night.
Sure of success, ready to step on
the stage — and the show had been
called off! The odds against getting
another chance in New York were
many. He removed his make-up.
Kathryn McGraw Brown entered.
Hearing the news, she caressed the
bewildered man and said, “Brace up,
Joe. we’re going places yet.”
They were marooned in New York
while the strike spread across the
nation. Owing to his itinerant life and
exceeding generosity, Joe had never
been able to save money.
Dark clouds passed over the
comedian and his valiant Irish wife.
Her jewelry went to the pawnbroker.
In the midst of the ordeal, a tele
gram came to Joe. His father was
dead in Toledo.
tie left tor tne unio town on money
furnished by Prevost. When he re
turned, the Equity strike was over.
He became a featured player in
John Cort's "Jim, Jam, Jems.” For
five seasons he appeared in as many
hits.
While in California with the
“Twinkle, Twinkle” company, he
was given a film contract. He has
since become the delight of movie
millions.
Mr. Ash, now seventy-five, recently
Wrote to the most famous of the Five
Marvelous Ashtons from Chicago. He
had a chance to join a circus in Cali
fornia. Jo^ sent the fare.
As Brown ascended the ladder,
F*revost went down. Brown looked
him up. “I’d like for you to be my
manager,” he said.
"1 don’t want charity — you’ve got
a manager.’’
Joe invented many problems that
only Prevost could solve. As a friend,
he worked for Joe until the last curtain
fell on his loyal life.
Joe’s mother was twice in Cali
fornia.- Her son wanted to buy her a
fine home. Many expensive houses
were shown her.
“If you don’t mind, son, there’s a
place in Toledo I’d like.”
When she returned to Ohio, Joe
wired a real estate firm to obtain it
for her.
It was a small two-story house in
the neighborhood where her husband
bad died and her children’had been
born.
The indomitable mother of the
great clown still lives there.
There are four children in the
family of Joe and Kathryn Brown.
It is the happiest in Hollywood.