Motion Picture Story Magazine (Aug 1911-Jan 1912)

CM^D On the Threshold of Life ^L (Produced by the Edison Company in cooperation with the National \v-A AT I Kindergarten Association) I \j\V] t :£p^(k5^ By MARIE COOLIDGE RASK !£^%(f *M "'-p'HEN you will not go?" j Roger Hewett looked gravely into the eyes of his pretty fiancee and awaited her reply. This was the third time Helen had refused to go motoring with him. She always pleaded a previous engagement, yet, somehow, her manner indicated that she was withholding the real reason for fear of his disapproval. Her reticence made the problem difficult to solve. "I am sorry, Roger," Helen answered, pointing to the clock, "but it is impossible. In fifteen minutes I must be ready to go — somewhere else." The half imperceptible pause which preceded the last words convinced Roger that he was right in his conclusions; Helen did not want to tell him where she was going. For a moment he stood, his lips pressed tightly together, then turned to go. There was evident disappointment, but no discourtesy, in his words. ' ' Very well, dear. I will not detain you. If you wish to go any other day, just let me know." With equal disappointment Helen watched him leave the house. "I could not tell him," she exclaimed. "He would object, and then I should have to give the work all up. I will wait. Some day, perhaps, he will see things from a different standpoint. ' ' An hour later Helen Thorne was keeping her engagement. As she entered the East Side Kindergarten, where her presence was expected every Monday and Wednesday, sixty little tots seated in a semi-circle of tiny red chairs, rose with one accord to greet her. "Good morning to you Good morning to you Good morning, Miss Helen Good morning to you. ' ' 65 Unnecessary was the slight signal from the Kindergartner. The ' ' Good Morning Song" resounded voluntarily. Lisped by baby tongues, the Yiddish, Italian, Negro and even Oriental accents became harmonious. As the little nods, bobs and courtesies progressed around the circle, Helen sighed again at the thought that Roger, on the very threshold of their life together, was not in sympathy with her dearest interests. The advent of "the pretty lady" was not permitted to interrupt daily routine. Instead, Helen herself directed unskilled fingers how to string bright-colored beads and put building blocks together in symmetrical shapes. But the pleasant tasks served only to divert childish minds from the tragedy of the day. Violet, the pretty little French-American girl, most winsome of playmates, was not in her accustomed place. "She was very ill yesterday," explained Miss Harris, the student assistant in the Kindergarten, ' ' and today we received word that she would never come again. The end came at four o'clock this morning. Her mother is quite inconsolable." That was all, but it was enough to send Helen Thorne hurrying along the street leading to the tenement where death's unwelcome messenger had preceded her. It was while on this errand of mercy that all unconsciously she became a veritable star of destiny to little Mike 0 'Brien. Mike's mother, No rah, the hardworking wife of the senior Michael, was more than usually busy that day. The death of little Violet Bissonette had touched her warm Irish heart deeply. "Lord love you!" she had exclaimed to Violet's sorrowing mother. "Dont you bother your poor head about anything. Me an' Miss Farrel