Motion Picture Story Magazine (Feb-Jul 1911)

136 TEE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE hand. He had expected by a broadside to have the weeping family at his knees, and then to dismember George seriatim. With trembling fingers he unfastened the upper buttons of his rounded waistcoat, and clutched his floating rib. "I've had the tolerance to withstand your categorical attitude," he gasped at Mrs. Kirkweather, "and to behold the wretchedness of that lost soul, George Merridew, but," he added, with a reproachful eye on Naomi, ' ' to see my own offspring turn against her afflicted parent is more than I can bear." He walked to the door with agitated strides. "I haven't the unction," he said in turning, "to heal the venom in my unrighteous family. I will seek our pastor for means of grace." Kirkweather closed the door unobtrusively, and they heard his receding steps on the gravel. Mrs. Kirkweather and Naomi exchanged frightened glances, and the elder hastened a word of extenuation. "Your poor papa," she said, with commiseration, "is suffering with his dyspepsia dreadfully to-night. I only hope our pastor will calm his tortured frame. I cannot imagine what has turned him so against George, and while they may be clouds somewhat of his own conjuring, we must see George, and warn him of your father's anger." So saying, she lit a candle, and ascended above to ease the anticipated feverish pillow of Mr. Kirkweather. We left the crestfallen George under the swinging insignia of his shame, and it was some minutes before he recovered from his dreadful passage with the indignant Mr. Kirkweather. In many minds as to his perilous estate, he decided that he must see Naomi at once, to anticipate, or at least ride out with her, the family storm before it should overturn her frail shallop. George was a man of divers resources, and, as he neared Naomi's home, he had decided on a front-door attack, a merry entry into the family group, and a laughing off of the entire matter. He was greatly amazed, however, as he neared the Kirkweather front privet, to hear the door shut sharply, and to see the portly figure of Mr. Kirkweather hurrying down the path. Waiting until his late antagonist had disappeared down the street, George tapped gently on the Kirkweather portals. Naomi met him with a half smile, and, with finger on lip, ushered him thru the quiet house and into the empty kitchen. The perspicacious George deduced that the first engagement had taken place, but was utterly amazed at the temporary rout of Mr. Kirkweather. All the weight of authority, fact and artifice belonged to him, and as soon as they were seated in a niche back of the tubs he burst forth. "Naomi, by all that's wonderful," he said admiringly, "by what means have you ousted the irate sire? It's true that he almost bayoneted me, coming out of the Main Street Cafe, and for a moment I lost my wits. I 've never faced a truculent buzzard with an umbrella-sword before. He left me for dead on the field of our encounter, and I hastened here, expecting to deliver a Marc Antony over my own corpse. ' ' Naomi gave him the missing chapter in the tragi-comedy in a few words, and George listened with approving nods. "My heavens, Naomi!" he said as she finished. "I had thought to see him gloating it over his prostrate female dependents, but you certainly have inherited papa's spunk, without his infernal standoffishness. I only wish I 'd fought my own battle as well as you've done it for me," he concluded wistfully. "It has but commenced," she replied. "Father is an awfully strong finisher. ' ' He laughed an emphatic assent, and the conversation trailed off into nothings dear to lovers, which do not concern us. How long their duet may have lasted is not of historic moment, but