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Show THE CLIMBER AND THE DEVIL f: By the Imp In Town Topics CHE Climber was reposing on the chaise longuo in her peach-tinted boudoir, bou-doir, nervously nibbling the tip of one heavily jewelled finger. She had come from the West with money, but so far as her social success was concerned she might just as well have arrived without it. It didn't do her any good, didn't lubricate her portly form into the charmed circle of the Inner set for which she panted; in fact, all it did do was to provide her with a stifling sot of gilt rooms in a smart hotel, and a limousine that looked like something out of the Biggest Show on Earth. She started fiercely on the ruination of another fingernail, and pushed her hairless Mexican dog to the floor with a dull thud. Her irritation had reached its climax. She got up and with feverish hands clutched a time table. She'd go back West immediately catch the first train and acknowledge to all friends that, so far as the East was concerned, she was a social failure. Then, suddenly sud-denly looking up, she saw the Devil smiling at her. "How did you get in?" she gasped. "I left the strictest orders I wasn't at -home to anyone." "Women," said the Devil, still smiling, "are always at home to me." "I suppose you know all about my trouble." The Climber returned wearily to her chair. "They won't let me in, and I've behaved all the time with the utmost ut-most propriety. Refused cigarettes, never touched a cocktail, and my opera gowns were modest enough for a Mother Superior. For years I've been fitting myself for society. My quotations fro'm Thackeray and Scott were perfect to a letter, and if anything the least risque was said, I always got up and left the room." The Devil made an extra twist of his tail around a leg of the chaise longue and sat down. He was still smiling. "Of course people wanted to find out something about personal history." The Climber crimsoned to the roots of her autumn-tinted hair. "I I," she answered; "I told them father was of ancient French descent, and mother was an Italian, that my childhood was spent in an exclusive convent con-vent school abroad and that I'd never been farther West than Boston." This time the Devil threw back his satanic head and laughed aloud. "If I'm to do anything to help you which I may for a consideration you'll have to tell me the truth all the truth. Your mother was ?" "Cook," said the Climber in a half-whisper. "Father?" insisted the Devil. "Miner," she gasped. "And so we have quite the usual story. Papa struck it rich, and he and Mama conveniently died just when you were old enough to be ashamed of them." At this point the Climber was only capable of a nod and the Devil went quickly on. "I'll give you a final chance, but my instructions must be carried out to the letter. If this fails there's nothing more to be done." And so the Devil took the Climber to dine at the most explusive house in town. "So good of you to come," said the hostess languidly. "Not at all, dear; I've been just crazy to get inside your house ever since I came from the West. We had a newspaper picture of you pasted up in father's shack, and I remember how disdainfully you used to look at mother across the washtubs." "But I thought you were related to the " "I used to think so myself," said the Climber. "Yes, I'd love a cigarette with my cocktail. I hope your husband won't be shocked at my dress. I think it's almost six inches lower than yours." The guests arrived and dinner progressed. "I believe," said the Climber's partner, "you come from the West." "The very westiest part of it. Father used to go to the mine at six every morning after mother had given him his lunch pail. At night one of the boys would play the mouth organ, and I'd dance like mad. Quite as effective as that Russian stuff of yours." "How very original!" said the hostess. "The primitive has always had a strong fascination for me." "Life out there must have been very interesting," drawled the host. "Tell us something about it." Then verily did the Climber remember the Devil's instructions unto the last letter. Gone was her affected air of breeding; forgotten all her quotations. With elbows on the table and a wine glass perpetually empty, she gave them her history every primitive detail. "Of course, father used to get drunk on pay night and mother would have to go screaming to a neighbor for safety." The hostess looked at her with sparkling eyes. "How beautifully dramatic! Do tell us some more." Food was forgotten. The footmen stood entranced for once in all their lives. They were hearing the TRUTH Was the Climber a success? Tremendous. Did she return West? She did not. Was she the fashion? No, the rage. And the Devil? Oh, she went to him a few days after the dinner party. |