Movie Makers (Jan-May 1928)

ERSTWHILE SALLY By K. L. Noone Illustrated by Alan Dunn PERHAPS, Susan, you want to say that Edward indited that unspeakable thing to Mrs. Ames. But don't tell me! He always liked Mrs. Ames. Your husband's family always did come first anyway, even with you! Just listen to this, Susan : 7 0 WD TO A GRANDMOTHER No thoughts of rosemary or rue Disturb a mind so chaste. She drapes a goivn of virgin blue About her ample waist. How did a man ere dare to woo So stern a maid — so iron-cased — Had Grandpa tired of honey-dew, Or was he tripped in haste?' "Just tell me he meant that for Mrs. Ames!" "Mother, please don't be silly. But I must say that the children would have been fonder of you if you weren't always finding fault with them." "Finding fault! Finding fault? If I Ever started to do that! . . . This younger generation. . . ." "There's very little difference in children, Mother. When Tom and I were only ten I can remember you going to Father and . . ." "Oh, I'm very far from arguing about that! I've certainly been beset all my life. Your children came by this sort of thing quite naturally. I'll never forget finding that scrap in your sewing basket: 'Is there a sting Remembering When glances came Unbidden? Or is her night Made starry bright Because her age is hidden?' You were more than ten then! You were twenty-four, and you wrote that undutiful thing after you had seen me. . . ." "Using a lipstick, Mother!" "No, indeed! Trying the effect of one to show your Uncle Tom. He was thinking of going into the manufacture of that particular kind of lipstick. And it Did help him, too. I remember his exact words. He looked at me and said he'd surely need a lot of capital to put it over! I'm sure I've always done everything / could to help my family!" Ninety -six 0* "JUST LISTEN TO THIS, SUSAN!" "If only you wouldn't continually find fault with the children. Mother. . . ." "You're always trying to excuse them, Susan, but their conduct is dreadful. They're absolutely lacking in respect. What this generation . . ." "There's very little to choose, I say again, Mother, between generations. Of course if you go back to the Victorian Era . . ." "You think I'm Victorian? Victorian, when you know perfectly well I was married in 1927 and that I was . . . Well, never mind what I was . . . You needn't smile. I simply couldn't make up my mind, and even the night Earnest proposed . . . Well, Father had said to me 'It's now or never, Sarah!' Ernest said afterward he never was so surprised in his life. You see, my little brother Henry told him that Father had said he'd never be able to support a wife anyway, and Ernest got into one of his terrible tempers and said to me 'Why, I could keep even you!' And I told him I was sure he could — that I had the utmost confidence in him and that we'd be mar ried in the fall. I Knew he'd just been afraid to ask me. Young people were different then. They were modest. They didn't run around at night like some daughters I could mention. . . ." "Mother dear, I know from what you've told me a thousand times that the girls had chaperons in your day, but 1974 is different from 1927, and people spoil Betty anyway, she's so pretty!" "I was pretty, too, but I never left the house without telling Mother where I was going — and / never touched a cigarette, though I must say they were pretty general. But look at the things your daughter smokes — not to mention the horrid little pipe hanging on her jeweled chain, and every girl carrying perfumed tobacco in her vanity case — an electric lighter — all the rest of the horrid things. Why, the men are so disgusted they aren't smoking at all. They say it's feminine! HORRIBLE! And the Clothes! I Never wore a skirt higher than two inches below my knees! Look at your daughter's! Look at it? You can't