Picture Play Magazine (Oct-Nov 1915)

Stork's Nest (METRO) By Joseph Ivers Lawrence An air of mystery surrounded everything that took place about Benton Cabot in the little mountain abode where he was staying. The Stork's nest was the mysterious place — the home of Bije Stork and his strange family — and a nest was the only name it merited. Only one thing there was about it that interested Cabot and that was Emmy Garrett, and he also interested her, but they were just a source of amusement to each other because of their difference. How the mystery very suddenly was made clear and what its clearing led to, are told in this story based on the picture production of the same name of the Metro Pictures Corporation. The cast included: Emmy Garrett Mary Miles Minter Benton Cabot Niles Welch Bije Stork Charles Prince I SEEN a man dressed up like you *■ once, but he had a show with some performin' dogs, an' was a-sellin' rheumatiz liniment; he was fixed up ter look funny a-purpose." The words were uttered by Emmy Garrett as frankly as though they had been graciously complimentary. Emmywas distinctly of the mountains ; a child of the elements and sister to the gay and sturdy birds and flowers that weathered the mountain gales and tempests. Benton Cabot flushed and gazed at the strange girl in blank surprise. For the first time in his life he found trim and well-tailored clothes a source of embarrassment and lack of ease. "I'm sorry that you don't care for my appearance," he said, with mock humility. "A lot of men dress like this down where I come from, but, you see, I'm not up on the latest styles around here." "Now ye're tryin' to get back at me, an' be smart !" retorted Emmy, her great eyes flashing fire from their mysterious depths. "I don't care ! All you folks from the city are stuck up an' proud, I reckon. But, come along! I'll show ye the way to yer shack — an' it ain't much of a shack, at that !" "No, I dare say it isn't," agreed Cabot soberly, as the girl started off with the long, lithe strides of a mountain creature, and he fell into step with her. "I'm not expecting to find a mansion waiting for me. My father had a good deal of property at one time, but I guess it dried up and blew away. This little farm and the shack were all he had to leave me. and it's all I have in the world. I'm anxious to see it, even if it doesn't amount to much." Emmy detected the note of melancholy in his voice, and grew solicitous. "Oh, the place ain't so bad as it might be," she said. "The land — well, the land's all there, I reckon ; an' it's all right, as fur as it goes. Ye won't try to work no land, I reckon, with them clothes on. will yer?" "What can I do, if they're all I have?" he returned, a little curtly, as he saw her gay air of flippancy returning. The girl was of a type distinctly new to him. She was beautiful, in a bold, free way, and. although she was clearly unlettered and picturesquely primitive, she disconcerted him with her attitude of vague superiority. He had asked her to direct him to his mountain cabin, which he had never seen, about five minutes before, and their acquaintance began at that moment ; yet she was criticizing him and mocking him with all the assurance of an old friend. They followed the mountain road until Emmy halted at the intersection of a narrow trail. "It's jest over yonder," she announced, pointing the way to the new direction. They could not walk abreast in the path, and Cabot stepped to one side, bowing and indicating that she was to precede him. She laughed boisterously. "Go ahead yerself!" she exclaimed; "then I c'n keep an eye on yer. We don't 'low strangers to walk behind us, here in these parts." Cabot felt a flush of anger rising til his face, but he forced a laugh, shrugge ] his shoulders, and marched ahead o his guide. They came presently to his ancestra domain, and the girl saw his fac lengthen and his brows gather darkl. as she pointed it out to him. It was ; less alluring place, even, than his guid had painted it : a tract of sticks an< stones and stubble, with a buildin: which seemed, if anything, too poor t< be the habitation of the bats and owl of the all-concealing night. "I reckon ye won't be stoppin' her' long," said the girl, with a puzzling mix ture of banter and pity. "Ye're shor> dressed up enough ter go 'most any where, but where are ye goin'?" "That's jtist what I don't know," h< answered dully. "I'm at my journey' end, but I've no new journey to be gin. What's a fellow to do, alone ii the wilderness with nothing to hi name but a suit of clothes that make young women laugh?" Emmy surveyed him comically, he round young arms akimbo, and her fin< head tilted at a saucy angle. "You're a queer one !" she summed up after due reflection. "If ye're really a bad off as ye make out, I reckon yeT have ter go to work, like other men I'll take ye up to Bije Stork's place mebbe he'll set ye ter work." "Bije Stork !" exclaimed Benton Ca bot, dwelling on the ugly quaintness o the name. "It's good of you, Miss Gar rett, to take so much interest in me but, you see, I hardly know — where