Photoplay (Apr - Sep 1918)

Revenge is Sweet in that refined way of hers, and if he paid attention to Tessie, Nesta would weep on his shoulder. It takes a strong man to let Nesta weep on him. Between explanations Tim would have to dash back to his room to lead out the pup for his walk. One day he came to me, his face registerin' "Peeved Chagrin." "Slim, I don't mind admittin' that I've got myself all bogged down on this feminist proposition," he concedes. "There's two of them women just bustin' their hearts over me. Now that ain't no way to do. I'm too much of a gentleman to be snobbish to either one, and that puts me in bad both ways. "That Miss Sprightly is one darned nice little heifer. corner of his eye. all as admiration. He can't never tell whether these girls are smilin' at him or You'd be surprised at the artistic soul that there woman has got. Now her heart throbs a tune with mine. She said so. Now on the other hand, there's Tessie Truelove. You wouldn't believe how plausible that girl can talk. It's my sterling honesty and democratic frankness that appeals to her. "Now I can't marry both of them. Then if I consult my own selfishness and marry either one or the other, why the other one will commit suicide. Do I make myself clear?" "I gather enough from your words to figure what your meaning is," I said. "But where do I come in? Either way I tell you it's a bad bet." "Well, this is the way I had it laid out," Tim went on. 47 "Let's you and me toss a coin, heads or tails, to see which one I take. Then you marry the other one and everybody'11 be satisfied." Tim you know is awful anxious to see everybody happy. "What do you think I am?" I asks him with some sarcasm. "You don't catch me bankin' my future happiness on a plugged nickel. Besides they say weddin's are made in heaven, and it's a crime to gamble with Providence." "Well, what the Sam Hill am I goin' to do?" he pleads. "Did it ever occur to you that as the ladies are goin' to marry you it might interest them?" I suggested. " Be a man. Put it up to them boldly, defiantly. Make them decide which one loses. Just say, "Ladies, when you settle the argument I'll marry the winner.' It's the only fair thing to do." After some dispute he agrees to let the ladies fight it out between themselves. The next morning it happened. Tim was early on the lot, aimin' to catch the ladies one at a time and get it off his chest. Tessie happened to be the first one to show up. Tim squared his shoulders, set his jaw and steps in her path. "Tessie," he croaked. "There's somethin' I just got to say to you. It's only fair to myself and I'm bankin' on you bein' the winner. Will you stroll to the drug store and take a nut sundae while I explain my theory?" "Oh, Tim, you've got to leave me alone today," says Tessie, kind of tired. "It ain't humanly possible to stand for you all the time. I got to have a day off." "Do you mean to deliberately tell me that your heart ain't pinin' for my robust affection?" roared Tim, his face registerin' "Dumfounded Doubt." "What did you mean by them things that you said last Thursday?" "Oh, my heart always pines on Thursdays," yawned Tessie. "But today I'm too tired to play. You pall on me." Then off she walks kind of laughin' to herself. Tim stood there lookin' like he'd been kicked by a mule. "Did you hear that, Slim?"he whispered hoarsely. "An' they say that women are reasonable animals. But she ain't the only girl on the lot. My own little Nesta knows a good thing when she looks at it. She's got soul, she has." Just then up walks Miss Nesta Sprightly. I had one of them there premonitions as soon as I glimpsed her. Walkin' on her nigh side was one of them male ingenues that they use to fill in the ballroom scenes and society background. I saw the first look I gave that the ankle watch was missin'. Poor Tim takes off his hat and stepped up with that silly smirk he wears in good company. "Pardon me, Mr. Todhunter, I cannot be annoyed with you today," sneers Nesta, tryin' hard for that look of "Haughty Disdain." "You have imposed upon my too trusting nature. I discovered today that you are not an actor at all. You are only a real cowboy. "Mr. Bushmill, my escort, is a real artist of the spoken stage. He is now in the photoplays to broaden his experience. You will oblige me in the future by not thrusting your uncouth self into my horizon." For a minute the marrow froze in my bones. I knew that Tim was goin' to murder this Willie boy. Willie thought so too because he ran around the corner of Nesta and got out of sight. Tim disappointed me however, and didn't do nothin' but glare. Nesta towed the little trinket (Continued on page ooo)