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MOTION PICTURE
not always be as you are now. Behold!”'
A crystal pool lay before them, pellucid in the white moonbeams. The Flirt bent over it and gave a gasping cry, for she saw not a young, beautiful face and figure rounded with life’s budding, but a withered countenance and bowed, graceless limbs. Her hands went to her hair, her cheeks, her breast, in horror, but they were as they had been to her eyes.
“What is it — what does it mean?” she gasped. “That cannot be I. that withered crone!”
“Not now. but in thirty years from now,” said the slow, emotionless voice, “or perhaps forty years; but it will surely come. Old age is a disease no doctor can heal — no rose but withers some day. Yet to Love’s eyes, if you have lived worthy of him. the scars of age are beautiful — almost invisible.” “Oh, Ralph! Ralph! Had I only listened to you in time!”
“Hark!” said Father Time, and his voice grew deep like the overtones of a great bell. “Count the strokes —
eight — nine — ten ’ ’
The Flirt opened her eyes and groped to her feet, listening incredulously. The great grandfather’s clock was booming ten ! Her hand hovered drunkcnly above the electric-light switch. Her face, she knew — the radiant, rose-shaped face — could never look the same to her now : the vile yellow in the pupils of Cleopatra’s eyes; the sensual, drooping mouth of
Helen of Troy
The light flashed across her mirror. She stared with dilated eyes, and the face of the woman she saw was gloriously beautiful. The door at the end of tile hall opened slowly, and Ralph stood before her, tall and grave.
“I came back for my answer, dear,” he said, and held out his arms. “Haven’t you anything more to say to me, little girl?”
She crept into the shelter of them, her shamed head on his shoulder.
“Love is so big and I am so little,” she ■whispered. “I was frightened before 3Tou came, but now” — she burrowed closer — “now I. too. have come — home !”
STARS OF THE MOVIES
By ESTELLA McMANUS
Stars of the movies, a-glittering clear.
Shed o’er the city your lustre of cheer;
Gather us in from the rush and the glare:
Take us where Nature lies tempting and fair.
Take us where snows everlasting shall be: Show us the wealth of the tropical sea;
Spread out before us the desert and plain, Mountains, and valleys that broad rivers drain.
Mingled thruout, as the height of your art,
Picture the worth of the great human heart—
Its longing for love and its struggle with strife, Pantomimed all in the drama of life.
Ever, as on us your cheering beams fall, Worshipers willing, we answer the call,
Mindful of nought but the pleasure we know. Wrapt in the warmth of your radiant glow.
( Sixteen )