Goodwin's Weekly | 1918-01-12 | Page 12 | "What's in a Name"

I 'WHAT'S IN A NAME" H By HARRY E. MacPHERSON B TRS' SMITH had always mildly H Vl J objected to certain foibles of H her young husband that she H considered silly the foibles, not the H husband. As long, though, as she be- B , lleved them merely silly she never set H her foot down in opposition, but when M she learned they were sometimes M actually harmful, she but that antici- H pntes the story. H You really couldn't blame J. Warren H Smith for becoming a professional M "highbrow. His past contained a dark M blot. It was his real name, particular- H ly his middle one. H J. Warren Smith tliat is the way H he signed it wasn't so eager to have Hj folks know his first name, John, for he 1 t always initialed it. But his true mid- B die name even to his wife was un- H known. Had you looked in the old M I family Bible you would have found it: H John Winkle Smith. B ' Winkle was his mother's maiden H ( name. B Now Winkle, to the somewhat artis- M tic mind of Smith, was not at all ar- m tistic. Even -when still in an academy M he wrote it as just an initial. But H when ho entered the university and m looked over the registers he found en-- B i rolled there almost a peace strength fl company of John Smiths. There -were M j exactly forty-nine of them. m Then and there John decided he M shouldn't be one of the common herd M of John Smiths. H In a moving picture magazine he H came across the picture of an actor. m It was labeled H. Warren Chesterfield, M or something like" that. That settled H it. He would part his name on the fl 1 side and Winkle should become War- H ren. So he was J. Warren Smith H , and so known by all but his father and mother when this story begins. H He had been graduated from college H , and had acquired a pretty and sen- fl I sible little wife, a baby boy and a job JJ of draughtsman in an architect's stu- Hfl dio at 100 big dollars a month when M he and his wife decided to quit living H at her mother's home. They would H rent an apartment. H ( There were several reasons, in fact H sundry ones, why they decided to quit H the roof of Smith's mother-in-law. The H latter was the principal one. But the H important fact is that they were go- H ing to leave even if they would have H to pay rent. H "Apartments are so nice," -young M Mrs. Smith said. "Think of having H steam heat no coal to carry in and H hot water and such conveniences in a H cozy little place of about three rooms." H "But don't they cost a lot?" asked M Smith. H "Oh, not much. Mrs. Ferron gets H , her place for thirty dollars a month j and it really is much larger than we H . need has three rooms and a sleep- H t ing porch. We should be able to get H I a little place for twenty-five." B "Goodnight! Lot of money!" Smith H ll exclaimed. H Ft "You needn't worry," snapped moth er-in-law "They won't rent to a couple cou-ple with a baby." "I know, but our baby is so sweet; they just can't help falling in love with him," Mrs. Smith reasoned. And so the search began. J. Warren Smith, who formerly liked the thought of Sunday coming with its big paper editions, soon came to dread both Sunday and tho newspapers news-papers of that day. The old lazy mornings in bed till eleven were changed to up at half after eight. The newspapers meant, instead of a quiet perusal of the sport and comic sections, sec-tions, a close and eye-tasking study of the want-ad departments. He came to hate all publishers on general principles prin-ciples for setting such ads in small type and for printing them at all. On Sunday afternoons he learned the gentle Autumn pastime of hunting apartments for Fall is the open season. sea-son. He and Mrs. Smith made the searches search-es together. They took the baby with tliem. At most places the child was to the apartment janitors about what loud clothes would be to a deer. They would see them coming from afar and retreat within their refuge of "nothing "noth-ing vacant." The prices, too, opened their eyes. At one place they were shown a neat but rather small apartment with the usual bath and disappearing closets, etc. By that time they had learned to leave the baby at home. So they at least managed to be shown the flat. Mrs. Smith glanced approvingly about. "This seems just what we want," she said. "How much is it?" The hard-faced superior person who condescended to act as janitor, replied: re-plied: "Thirty-five dollars." J. Warren whistled between his teeth. "We just wanted to rent it," he murmured, mur-mured, and grinned at the janitor. Smith really thought it a good joke. The janitor didn't grin. He silenced the old stuff with one look. "That is the summer rate," he continued. con-tinued. "As soon as the heat is turned turn-ed on it will be thirty-seven and a half." Considering the incident closed, he ushered them toward the door with a take It or leave it air. They left it Mrs. Jones remarking as an exit speech that she thought the place a bit too small and that besides she didn't like the arrangement. Once outside they looked at each other. "A dream of an apartment," she said. He agreed with a nod. "Damned outrageous thu ves," he replied. re-plied. "Guess we'll have to rent a house." But there is a lure to apartment hunting as there is to any other outdoor out-door sport. You never can tell when a rabbit is going tQ dodge up in front of you or when a trout will grab for that bright fly you have cast for the 'Jbteenth time without results. Mrs. Smith didn't want a house. She had set her heart on an aparrtment. And the sporting instincts of Smith were aroused. They had walked many, many blocks and she was tired and discouraged. So he took her home. "I'm going out alone," ho said, "and find an apartment to fit my purse, or burst." With grim determination he started down a street just the one on which they wanted to live when the rabbit did jump out of the brush right ahead of him. A moving van and a piano wagon were backing up in front of an elegant-looking apartment house. Both wagons were empty. It didn't require any particular originality for him to deduce something. Someone was moving out. From the front door came articles of furniture in tho hands of husky van men and, meekly standing by, but apparently afraid to make any suggestions, sugges-tions, was a man Jones concluded must be the mover. He had that tired look in his eye which denotes several days of tack pulling and curtain removing. re-moving. "Moving out?" pleasantly queried Smith. "Yes, very much so out of the city," was the reply. At that point the library table rapidly rap-idly depreciated in value. It was suddenly sud-denly dropped. The van men grinned as van men do at such a humorous occurrence. oc-currence. The tired man swore softly. soft-ly. He apparently was afraid the movers would hear him and refuse to take his money. Then he turned to Smith and remarked re-marked plainly what sort of a fool a man is who buys furniture when he is liable to bo transferred from one city to another. "What kind of an apartment did you have? Rented yet? What's the price?" eagerly. "Three rooms and a dont drop that piano bath. No. not rented yet It cost eight hundred dollars (I mean the piano, not the apartment) twenty-eight dollars a month. My Lord! war has nothing on moving!" The huskies, having thrown the piano into the wagon, went back into the house. The owner took this opportunity op-portunity to pass his hand over a large scratch in the finish and to cluck sombrely. . At the mention of the price Smith dashed into tho front door and failed, as usual, to find any sign stating who rented the apartments. A woman passing through the hall volunteered that the "janltaw lady in apawtment numbah one" had the letting of the -places. PRETTY WINONA WINTER,. THE LITTLE CHEER-UP, ONE OF THE FEATURES OF THE BILL OPENING A T THE ORPHEUM NEXT WEDNESDA Y EVENING, At No. 1 an ample woman, rod as to hair and blue as to eyes, answered his ring. Mrs. Jtforah Murphy, janitross of the Avondale Villa for it was none other than she usually had an affable Irish manner and greeted folks with a smile. But she didn't smile as she looked Smith over while he stated his business. She had noted he carried a thin stick over his left arm. Mrs. Norah Murphy didn't care for canes of any kind, except for lame persons. And she particularly disliked thin ones. She consented, though, to showing him the place, but not eagerly. It is always good policy to make a good impression on the janitress of an apartment house, for they are the arbiters ar-biters of your destiny, Smith's stick was militating against him. Smith liked the place. It was almost al-most a counterpart of the one he and his wife had been asked thirty-five dollars for. The man downstairs had told him it was twenty-eight dollars. With the idea of renting it as soon as he could get his wife there, he slipped the red-haired one his card. It was a nice card neatly engraved. Now Mrs. Murphy, in addition to objecting to men who carried sticks disliked those who used a first initial and a middle name. "J. Warren Smith," she read aloud, and Smith failed to notice the way she said it. "Um-m, what is your business, busi-ness, Mr. Smith?" Being a curious woman she always asked that. Also, she wished to test her ability to put two and two together. to-gether. She had decided Smith was "one of two things he was either a traveling salesman or a floor walker. Now Smith, being a professional highbrow, had another falling in his efforts to be distinctive form the usual Smith. A draughtsman, he usually at first called himself an architect; but when he wanted to impress strangers he now told them he was an engineer. It was just the same as the adoption adop-tion of his name or the habit of carrying carry-ing a stick. He had a hard time in the beginning of forgetting he was still plain John Smith. When he first got his stick he was so conscious of it that he limped a little if he thought folks were looking curiously at him. But he now carried both his name and cane with the confident air that is bred by familiarity. So' with his occupation. "Engineer" flowed naturally from his tonque. He had almost come to believe it. And ho was a regular subscriber to the "Engineering Record." He even smoked smok-ed a black pipe because all engineers smoke black pipes. Ho hated pipes. "Oh! 'tis an ingineer ye arre," Mrs. Murphy said, thoughtfully. "The apartment rlnts for forty dollars a month." If Mrs. Murphy had struck Smith with one of the bricks for which her race, at least in the comic papers, has become famous, she could not have stunned him more. "But the man who just moved out said It was only twenty-eight," he protested. "Did ho now?" said the janitress. "He must av been jokin'." Smith got away as beBt he could. By the- time ho reached homo he decided de-cided apartments could not possibly be had at a reasonable rate. But his wife met him with a happy face. ' "Oh, Honey. I'm going to get the nicest place three rooms and a bath, and" "Forty dollars?" he moaned. "No, for only twenty-eight and " "That's what he told me, the liar." "What on earth are you muttering about?" Smith then told the story of his shattered hopes. "But I know we can get this," she .continued. "A friend told me all about it. And they don't object to small children. Don't you want to go with me to look at it?" Even his wife's enthusiasm couldn't stir Smith. He had become a fatalist as concerns apartments. He didn't even inquire where this new find was situated. "No, dear, I'm through. Good luck, though, and if it is O. K., go ahead and rent it." Picking up the "Record," just arrived, ar-rived, he'made himself as comfortable as possible while he read, and practiced prac-ticed on his pipe. To Mrs. Smith, who reached the Avondale Villa a half hour later, Mrs. Murphy presented a smiling face. Mrs. Murphy liked the beautiful, and young Mrs. Smith was pretty. "Sure, and bless yer pretty heart, I'll show you the place. 'Tls only twenty-eight dollars a month and the finest apartment in the city for the money," rattled on the janitress as she lead Mrs. Smith who could scarcely believe her eyes from one room to another; pointing out the closets with their deep clothes room and the fine kitchen range and roomy sleeping porch. "What does yer husband do?" she queried. "He's a draughtsman in an architect's archi-tect's office." "An' niver is moved from wan town to another." "No, his job keeps him here In the city all the time." "Will, an' ain't I glad I didn't rlnt it to a young fellow a fellow with a thin cane who was here awhile ago. He was an Ingineer and we've had two of thlm hero. Wan lived just wan month and was transferred to Ari-zony Ari-zony to an irrigation project. The other had to move to Idyho to hilp build a railroad. We don't like folks movln' in an' out all the time. Besides Be-sides I don't like his name." Mrs. Smith really didn't hear .her. She was making the additional discovery dis-covery that the floors were of hardwood. hard-wood. "Well, I'll take It. Here's a deposit de-posit for ten dollars." She handed her the money and one of her cards. It read: "Mrs. J. Warren Smith." "Is this yer name?" almost with a scream. Mrs. Smith was surprised. "Yes," ' ; "An' is yer husband a small man an' does he carry a little stick?" "Ye-es," somewhat puzzled by the strange queries. "An' ain't he an Ingineer?" Mrs. Smith, failing to understand, was becoming a bit nettled. "As I paid, ho is a draughtsman. Why do you ask?" "Will, honey, all I say is thot he almost beat you out of this apartment. He was here awhile ago he said he was an ingineer. So I told him i't was forty dollars." "Oh, Is that all. Well, sometimes he tells people that. Ho Is a kind of office of-fice engineer." "But if I'd known he had such a darlln' wife as you I'd-a rlnted him the place anyway, cane or no cane." Now Mrs. Smith didn't particularly care for the carping criticism of her husband. But what can one do when there is a bargain apartment to be had. So she just smiled a sickly sort of smile. "Mr. Smith is young yet and a promising prom-ising lookin' fellow. 'Tls a shame he's gettln' a wrong start In the world. Can't you take my advice and make his remedy some of his habits? 'Tis a shame for him to use a middle name and a cane and you such a sensible lookin' person." When Mrs. Smith got home she had a few things to tell her husband as to what she thought of affectation and what It leads to. They moved into Avondale Villa the next week. Now they are veteran residents of the p'ace and Mrs. Murphy mothers them as if they were her own children. chil-dren. "That Mr. Smith In number three is a fine young fellow, an ideal husband. Never drinks or anything," she will ( tell you. "His only bad habit is that ho smokes so many cigars." It seems Smith quit the pipe and the engineering magazine at the same time and left his stick at mother-in-law's home. If you should go up to No. 3, Avondale Villa, and look at the card on the door you would read: "J. W. Smith, draughtsman."