Motion Picture Story Magazine (Feb-Jul 1911)

92 TEE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE. the thread of communication was lost. At last, by a happy accident, they heard that Euth had gone to New York. From that time, the great city was their goal. Traveling a short distance, stopping to work a few weeks for needed money, pushing on again, they finally arrived in New York and wandered about, gazing with open mouths and twisted necks at sky-scrapers and other new and startling sights. Lucy's portly form tried to stop a Broadway car, and the wind played havoc with her fat person, around the Flatiron Building. Her barber pole stockings nearly created a panic. "For Gawd's sake !" she exclaimed, when one saucy breeze partly upset her, "Dis Sad Iron am no place for me !" Coming along Eighth Avenue, a sign "Auction Sale. Furniture from old Southern Mansion" greeted their eyes. A portrait was featured, the head of a fine old Southern aristocrat with silvered hair and warm, genial eyes. A thick layer of dust was over all, and several curiosity seekers hovered near with half smoked cigars in their hands and a keen eye for business. Pushing timidly thru the crowd, the two old negroes drew nearer to the picture. Suddenly Zeke gave a loud cry: '"It's Old Master — Old Master Mapleton!" Lucy gave one ecstatic look and dived into the ancient carpet bag. "Here Zeke, you all knows how much we all got." To their dismay, the portrait was rapidly bidden beyond their purse by "Harlem Hal," keeper of the "Southern Planter's Saloon." "Sell it to we all," they begged him, anxiously. "I told you no," growled Harlem Hal, with an impatient gesture, "the picture's mine, so beat it!" "I reckon nobody aint gwine to beat nothin' !" ejaculated Mammy Lucy. "But stranger, we sure do want Old Master's face a smilin' at us once moah !" "Please, stranger," begged Zeke, "we all will give you moah money." The proprietor of the Southern Plan ter's Saloon hesitated a moment, and then, pocketing the last cent of poor old Zeke and Lucy, he hastily left them on the sidewalk, the proud, penniless possessors of Old Master's portrait, happy to have his warm, Southern eyes smiling into their poor, old, faded faces. Betty and Euth were sitting in the Travers' library. Euth gazed idly out of the window. Betty was turning the pages of a new book and scanning the pictures with bright, brown eyes. "Euth ! are you asleep ?" she questioned. "Come see this poor old darkey's picture. Isn't it pathetic?" Euth turned, with a start. "Yes, Betty," she said, "and I was thinking of two old servants of ours, poor old Zeke and Mammy Lucy. I wonder where they are now. Not alone and friendless, I hope," and she looked anxiously at Betty's book. Just then the door softly opened and Billy stealthily entered,' glancing toward the child, who pointed to Euth's golden head, drooping and dejected. He placed a warning finger to his lips, and crept up behind his sweetheart's chair, passing his hand across her eyelids. "Guess!" he cried. "Of course I know," she murmured, and as Betty ran from the room he took her in his arms. "Still thinking of the old homestead, love?" he questioned, tenderly. "Yes, Billy," and she gave a little sob. "Poor Dad, I miss him yet. And if I only knew what became of Mammy Lucy and Zeke!" "Don't worry, Golden Locks," he soothed. "Let us hie to the machine, and think of nothing but that you are to be Mrs. Billy tomorrow." So off they flew, Euth's blonde head and radiant blue eyes making a brilliant foil to Billy's black eyes and hair. "Do you see a small, chubby person with filmy wings and dimpled arms steering this auto?" Billy questioned, as the car went flying down Eighth Avenue. "If you mean Cupid, I hope he'll al