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Show G1 1 J H- I 1 J (f IRt 1 ! Sewell Ford nilae JuLarola Ijomes JDack I l m V could only & cvzv . 'SSS tny feet aain? wfrmesg - ZZzZZr-" , "Gosh!" says I. "lie looks too good to be tryc. How how did it all happen? Don't tell mo some rich aunt has died." "Better than that," says Mr. Stuckey. "You know that ten you slipped me that day? And the Dutch uncle talk that went with it? Well, they both gave me a. jolt. I decided that we must buck up, me and Harold. So we did, some. Anyway, Any-way, we got cleaned - up. 1 blew two ninety-eight into a wash euit for Harold, and near as much into a fresh ahirt for myself. Shaved, and all that. Then we started to look for Minnie that's his maw. I'd heard she was workin' over at some amusement park on the Palisades, in Jersey. Thought I might get her to come back and patch things up. "Well, we found her, all right. But she turned us down cold. Said she had no use for either of us. Even denied that Harold Har-old was her boy. Threatened to have us thrown out If we didn't leave hor alone. There was nothing else to do. I was feelin' mightv low about then. I expect it would have been the river for mine if I'd had the nerve. But I didn't. Instead I was figurin' on huntin' up a certain party and try In' a shot of dope. It was while we was wanderin" back to the ferry that this limousine stops alongside and out hops a young lady who proceeds to go just bugs over Harold. The big guy with her was most as bad. 'The very boy we want for our new piece, isn't he, NInkey?' 'You've said it." says he. 'The kid'll be a knockout.' AY ell, that's where it begun." be-gun." "Meanin" you fell in with some movie people?" says I. "The biggest in the business," says jim. "They don't think any more of J spendln' money than I do about throwln' away a match. Chucked me fffty and told me to show up next day for Harold to try-out. try-out. Did he make good? Say, you've seen him work them eyes. It's a win from the start. And right there I clashes in with the wise stuff. "How about a contract?" con-tract?" says 1. 'You name your figure,' says the gent. I took a long breath, thought of as fig money as I dared, then doubled it and gave him the answer. 'Sign here,' says he. I wouldn't dare tell vou how much a week we're gettin". You wouldn't believe it. But next season It'll be four times that or I'll know why. Uh-huh! He's only been screened a few times and they're after him. Ain't seen any of the paper yet, have you? It's out in front of some 'of the first-run houses now. 'Childe Harold' he's billed as. Ought to say how he's the son of James Montgomery Mont-gomery Stuckey, Esq., but I couldn't get 'em to put that on. Sure he's mine. T had the adoption papers put through first thing and I'd like to hear what Minn, has to say when she finds out what she signed away for ten dollars cash. But say, Shorty, we have bucked up some, ain't we?" "Stuckey," says I, "you've pulled a miracle." mir-acle." "Well," says he, "you helped. And. bv the wav, T dropped around to square that little debt." "Hold on," says I, starin at the bill he's shoved at me. "This this is a century plant." "With our kind regards," says Mr. Stuckey, wavtn' a gray- gloved hand magnificent. mag-nificent. "And maybe sometinie or other you'll feel like droppln' in and breakin' the news to that crab brother of mine." Y'ep, I broke it but over the 'plion. It's safer that way with this kind. They're apt to hate the world, plumbers, even them that's related distant to a stage che-ild with cherub eyes. vestment, and I hope I never make a worse one." By the time I gets back to the studio I was sore at myself for being so soft In the head, and naturally I works some of it off on Swlfty Joe. "Next time don't ask me," says I. "Give 'em the quick run." "Anybody with three starvln' kids, of course," says I. "Ahr-r-r chee!" says Swifty. "How do you get that way just on buttermilk? Or is it the heat?" Then he starts for South Brooklyn, where folks talk a language he can understand easier, lcavin' me to lock up the Studio. Some day I'd like to meet the guy who advertises these mail order memory lessons. les-sons. I'd tell him a few things about how useless all that stuff is. What comes hard for most of us is to forget such items as Harold and Jim Stuckey, for instance. I don't mean I went around slarey eyed for the next week or so, like a parlor Bolshevik piottin' how to make everybody happy by mukin' murder an outdoor pastime. I didn't have that pair on my mind so much. But the thoughts of "em kept comln' up at odd tfmes when T was shaving", or openin' a three-minute egg. And you know it don't pay to let your mind go 3himmyin' off durin' either of them operations. I can almost show you the chin nick I got. No, It's healed up. Likewise the mental scab I got from visitin' that top floor tenement. I'd handed myself the decision that what I said and did then was Just right only maybe I might have made it a fiver. Anyway, I put it down that I was more or less wise between the ears, no matter mat-ter what some folks might think. With which I closed the books on it. Must have been goin' on for a month later when her the other day Swifty tiptoes tip-toes In where I'm finlshin' a session with one of my Wall street reg'lars and announces an-nounces as respectful as he knows how that there's somebody out front.' "A gent and a a young gentleman," says he. "Whaddye mean, young gentleman?" says I. "Ain't got an ex-crown prince out there, have you?" "I wouldn't put it past him, at that," says he. Which gets me a bit curious, I'll admit. So I slips a dressin' robe over my gym j suit before goin' out and stops before the i mirror to slick up my hair. Even then ! I was sorry for a minute or so that I hadn't waited to doll up complete. For this tall party sportin' the black cut- : away, the weddin' breakfast pants and the silk Ud is sure someone impressive and dignified to behold. I don't need to mention the gray gloves nor the crook-haridled crook-haridled walkin' stick, but they're part of the outfit. And not until he sticks out his hand and I gets a full face view that reveals a half-portion chin do I guess who It is. "For the love of soup!" says I. "Jim Stuckey!" "Not now." says he, flashin' an engraved en-graved card. "James Montgomery Stuckey. But I guess you hadn't noticed my son." "Y'our your eh?" I finished with a gasp. Y'es. now that I had the clew, I could see it must be Harold. But such a Harold! If they was puttin' 'em in stained glass windows accordin' to the latest fashion designs for young gents he would be something like that. Jim Stuckey was dressed up to the minute, and no denyin' it. But Harold, he was attired. That's the only word for it-new it-new knickerbocker suit, so fresh from the tailors you could almost smell the pressin" iron, new shoes, wide white collar, col-lar, and all the rest. Also he's as clean as if he'd just been unwrapped from the tissue paper. His cherub face is all pink and white, and his- wheat-colored hair frames it In neat curls that might have been put In place one by one. gwiFTY JOU GALLAGHER hadn't 'been born to be the best first assistant assis-tant director of physical culture on west Korty-second street, and bar rone, he'd still be useful as a watch You ought to cfco him work when "thinks he's guardin' the sanctity of studio's front office. Say. he has old alius at the bridge lookin liko a tcr. Any panhandler or gas mantle nt or member of the Down-and-out that gets by him has got to leak , )ugh the keyhole. ' rpmember here one day a while back Vuifty pokes his head through the " i door and announces out of the left i or bis mouth that somebody wanis ' ve speech with me. And I could tell he way Swtftv wore fifs face that he Vt trvin to register deep disgust Iwil don't ho give a name? I asks. J;, ,'.. ays Swifty. "Not that bird. did it wouldn't be the right one. :'p11i him to take a hop, pronto, but nus up a whine about how he's got fee vou so I leaves him on the out-:" out-:" mat while I passes you. the word. ji I give him the shunt?" ' expert I should have taken Swlfty's " Vment on the case, for he seldom ies spottin' a touch artist, but havln' : ' an hour to kill before lunch I de-' de-' : Is to do the shootn' myself. nh I might as well hear his tale," T e i. -Let him trickle in, Swifty. I'll ' nut in a minute." knew I'd made a mistake, though, " soon as I got a glimpse of this seedy :-; ty with the slack under lip and the . rowin' chin. ' Hello- Sborty! says he. I expect don't remember me, eh?" :-' our manner's familiar enough, says :: 'aid vour face ain't at all strange. " I don't connect you with any name." T No you wouldn't," says he.. "It's ' cl:ey-Jim Stuckey." -Sounds like a good fit, says I. i ewky. Huh! Just where have our " hs crossed before, Jim?" "i- Why " savs he, "I used to be your --'rite ' waiter at the old chop house,1 know" -I never did have much sense when " jame to pickin' out waiters," says I. ":aybe vou're right, though. Suppose ; : were" ah you say; what's the argu- :- was nothing unique: no job, the e and three children cryin' for bread, a dispossess notice tacked on the . - r Also couldn't 1 help him out with --fcn spot until he could get on his feet. .' jie he was spielin' this off smooth and id I gives him the up and down. e don't quite tally with my idea of a ical hash slinger. For one thing, he's ""'turned too sporty. Course, the cheap ck and white checked suit is a Baxter jet bargain that shows as many spots j leopard, but it ain't the sort a waiter V- u!d cling to if It was his last. And the --"-t 'collar with the pink and blue stripes 7f another suspicious item. That face rtu be a waiter's face, or It might not. & of the.se maps shaped like a piece of ". .. and ornamented with a long nose and jair of close-set, shifty eyes. Just as V itst as a rat'3, them eyes, '""tuckey goes on to give me details ...iut how long he's been on the blue cet shift, on account of bein" called on strike and so many of the hotels tin Lizzie Mauds in the dinin' rooms. :V ;n he switches to how hard it is to shoes and things for the kids, and the little wife would take a job tV-Jbh!n' floors only her back ain't strong ueh. t::And I tell you, McCabe," he adds, ;.:.s mighty tough luggin' along a fam'ly V se days." ; .pet's see." says I, "you didn't consult '.-. about gettin' married, did you? No, !'-'hought not. So I don't feel more'n ;v: l responsible. In fact, I don't, quite .'V.ire why you come to me at all. Ain't got anyone nearer?" .V. got a brother," says Stuckey. "Runs :;; ilumbin' shop over on Ninth avenue. ies good money, too. Dresses his two L '. 1 up on Sunday like prize dolls. But Id I pry a dollar out of him? Not le saw "us all starvin' in the gutter, use askin' him. So when I didn't ;:'W which way to turn. I thought I'd : ; up some of my old chop house cus-: cus-: ' iers that I used to try so hard to v-sf! 'There's Professor McCabe,' says 'He might remember how 1 " :i'Vs, I get the outline, Stuckey," says 'V"And you've most made out a cae. quite, though. I'm going to think -ver. Might want to check you up, -- Now what's the street number? : '.t 63rd. eh? Wav over, I expect? And c:-tre'a the brother located?" e looked kind of dubious when I jots "; te items down and his jaw sags still e as I declines to siip him a five on )unt. But I've been stung so often these sad tales that I'm gettin' leery. '.:"li half an hour later, as I'm orderin' -a i good husky lunch Includin' a section -' leep-disn cherry pie. I can't quite for-the for-the wearv sag to Stuckev's shoulders : le shuffles out. And all the afternoon ): picture kept comin' up. I could see " draggin' back to the little wife with r:- enm down, and wavin' awav the three Kry youngsters. You know how it . - i you? via bout 4 o'clock I jams on mv straw l turns the Studio over to Swifty and ts uptown. First off I meant to load ftlth a stock of provisions and arrive ,:i an off-season Santa Clans, but on the , ,:- I decides that maybe it would be just v, ,1 to call on brother before I did that, " ?sl nfni what he meant by such stony "t StUff. ' it happens, I finds brother plumbln' : V active in his basement shop. He r.- t look like a purse proud plute, either. peeled down to his undershirt and ncratin' a couple of new bathtubs as his in. xhe eloquent wav I mentions --.. ner Jim and his starvin" family don't ., K any sudden tears of remorse to his : Vh who's been klddln' vou?" says he. a n t got no fam'ly like that, unless , collected 'em recent. Swre, he was riffl for a while. Some Moll he "-;:f imP when he was chorus man. But '" ' ''inn t stick together long. She quit r.. l'01; I heard. Skipped out and left i- a Wat of hers. Bov, I think. v . m J aeeu him. Don't want to. Or V;- either. He's no good, Jim. I've tried ; , out until I'm through. Told vou he ,,rPe s,arvin kids, eh? Say," that's t Ul;it is " ,- a.sy t0 Ulls Mother of Jim's Juil"rt- Plumbers are apt to get th-Tt ?v hate the world. You can r h , "st by the way they tramp Into ;;rno wUh mud()y feet (hrow ' ' 8 v y u bags dwn on vour best 'V 'in'flv,er hear a PH'mber whistlin' and m-WMdyTat hls work? Did vou. now? ' - -jntYV " ' postnnes the Santa Claua Tin- ' 1 rt counted them three b-o.f m r mvtelf- the looks of i 0llf, ;U Jt,I1's nmber was In it iV, w.iere you could starve If vou "It's all up, Stuckey," says I. "I got the whole tale from your brother." "Ah, he's a crab, he Is." says Jim. "He gave me the dope on you, all right," says I. "So you're a chorus man as well as a waiter, eh?" "I am when I can get on," says Jim. "Mv voice ain't what it used to be, though." "Too many paper pipes. I-expect," says ! I. "I thought from your costume you ' ought to belong with that gang that j drifts around Times square. And I hear the little wife has quit you?" don't know where you're headed "for. The bread line, may be. But I can see the lad's finish, and it's too blamed bad." "If I could only get on my feet again," whines Jim. "I could " "No, don't make any promises," says I. "I wouldn't believe a word. You'll always al-ways be what you are, or worse. But I'm just fool onough to throw away a ten on you. Here it is. No! No thanks. I'm simply buy in myself some sleep that I might miss if I kept my money where it belongs. Not a bit of use comin' around after more, though That's my total in- m::4 III W ' m':X ft v -wi ' ygpss iscv ' I Im I PS 44' 11 If tried. It's lined with five-story double tenements, old style. And the street is 1 full of kids playin' tip-cat, and baseball, and craps. Babies swarmed on the side-in' side-in' babies, such as poor folks always walks and doorsteps dirty, healthy look-have look-have the kind that can roll off a third-story third-story window ledge, bounce on an awnin', carom from an ash can and fetch up cooin' on the curb. I was just huntin through a double row of speakin' tube name plates for Jim Stuckey's card when a young riot seems to break loose outside aud in dashes a youngster so impetuous that he near knocks the wind out of me. Right on his heels comes half a dozen other boys who seem to be all set for mayhem, assault as-sault and battery and other violence. "Yah ! Catch the welsher!" they're i shoutin'. "Head him off, Abie! Soak ! him, Mickey!" "Well, well, you young tarriers!" says I. "What's all the rough stuff about?" "He's a crook!" they yells. "He swiped the pot on us, wit' a flam game. He's alius pullin' dat. Turn him loose, Mister, and we'll fix him fer it." "How about it, kid?" says I, haulin the youngster out where I can get a look at him. "Have you been doing anything like that?" But I needn't have asked. One glance j into them big, innocent blue eyes was 1 enough to discount the evidence of twice as many young toughs. Reg'lar cherub j eyes, they are, the kind you" see In pic- ' tures. Course, he's sort of a messy, rag- 1 ged cherub. His waist is dirty and torn, his face is smooched up, and his curly, wheat colored hair looks like it hadn't been disturbed by a comb for days Yet for all that he's about as ornamental as any nine-year-old boy ought to be. Yes, just about the age of my little Sully, so you can guess I was hopin' he had a good alibi. And he has, too. "Nan, I didn't swipe nuttin'," says he. "I winned the pennies straight on th toss. They're a bunch of squealers, they are." This brings out a chorus of howls from the gang and they was for makin' an- other rush at him only I blocks 'em off. "Beat it. now," says I, "or some of you'll get cuffed. Here's a dime to pitch for if you ain't satisfied." Some strategy, that. They leaves us witli a whoop and I turns to mv unwashed cherub. "What's your name, son?" says I. "Harold Stuckey. I s'pose," says he. "Eh?" says I. "Then It must be your 1 dad I'm lookin' for." "You you ain't the rent agent, are you?" lie. demands. "Nothing like that. Harold," says I. "This is a friedly visit. Y'our pop at home?" Harold shakes his curly mop. "Nah," says he. "He's down to Herman's place, next corner, shoot in' pool, but he'll be showin up 'fore long." "In that case I'll wait," says I, "an get acquainted with the fam'ly. Which floor Is yours?" "Top," says Harold, startin up tho stairs. And after we'd climbed the long, dark fights he tows me to a couple of nearly bare rooms at the back. Old sportin' extras and clgaret stubs cluttered the floor, dirty dishes was set around on the stove and table, and a few clothes were draped on the chairs. But no signs of the little wife or the other kids. "Where's your mom and the others?" says I. "There's only' me and pop," says he. "Th' old lady, she flew the coop long ago." "Oh, ho!" says I. "Then your pop's tale about three starvin' kids was a piece of bunk, eh?" Harold gives me a quick glance from them big eyes of his and proceeds to hedge. "Well." says he. "the others ain't here Just now. They they're out on the street. I expect." "Are they?" says I. "How old would you say they were, Harold?" "Why." says he, "they they're younger than me." "Considerable, I expect. ' says I. "And mom's been gone a long time, you eay?" "Well, not so long." says Harold." I I forget. Pop can tell you, though." ' "I don't doubt It," says I. Say, I had quite some session with Harold. He was about as wtllln' a young prevaricator as I've ever run across. His only trouble seemed to be In decidin' Just what kind of lies he ought to feed me. And yet, knowin' that there was hardly a word of truth in anything he was saying, I couldn't look Into them cherub eyes without won-derin' won-derin' if mv ears were hearin" straight. Nor I couldn't find the heart to tax him with it, either. T was almost glad when .Tim came In to take the strain off'm Iho kid. He's' 'some jarred to find me there, too. for the low of soup!" soys L Jtrri DtucKey' "Good riddance!" says Jim. "Look what she wished on me, too," and he nods at Harold. "Looks like the makin'a of a fine boy," says J. "You don't know him," say? Jim. "Just as crooked as his maw, though I expects he gets some of it from his father, Whoever Who-ever he was. I can't do anything with him. And I don't know how to get rid of him." Weil, there's no use goin' on detailin' this interview with Jim Stuckey and Harold. Har-old. It was soggy, hopeless. Made you feel almost ashamed of the human race. Here was a shiftless, good-for-nothing loafer of a man. and a boy who was growin' up to be a liar and a crook. But how was I goin' to change it? T didn't know the answer. I didn't even make a stab at it. "You're a fine bird, you are, Jim," savs T. "Fx-waiter. ex -chorus man, poolroom t hanger-on ! That's a swell record. J |