Moving Picture World (Jan-Feb 1927)

410 MOVING PICTURE WORLD February 5, 192/ VEN on the bench Judge Bascom was wont to give vent to his enjoyment of a joke by slapping his leg vigorously, but it was only when seated in the twilight of the Idle Hour Theatre, alongside a pretty girl that his marksmanship became erratic. So well known was the Judge’s unpleasant little habit that sensitive women suffered in silence rather than endure the titter that would run through the house whenever a victim rose to change her seat. Were it not for this fact, it is probable that the Judge would have had to sit alone, but Millville was a small place and its residents were super self-conscious. Due to the Judge’s official position little was said about his peculiarity though Mabel Sniffins announced at the post office one evening that she was not going to visit the Idle Hour again until she could provide herself with a suit of tin underwear. Bill Spriggins, who ran the Idle Hour as a side line to a sluggish undertaking and furniture business, had spoken to the Judge about it several times, only to be met with so flat a denial that argument was useless. His last remonstrance had been met by a threat of a libel suit unless Bill could produce his witnesses, and Bill knew as well as the Judge did that no woman in Millville would take the stand against the Judge; particularly in his own court. It looked pretty much like a victory for the Judge. He had the entire community bluffed to a standstill. It worried Bill, but there seemed to be nothing he could do but listen discouragedly to feminine complaints and try and steer the Judge to a seat next some other man. That never seemed to work. Bill would bustle down the aisle with a brisk “Here’s a nice seat, Judge, right alongside Hi. Hos kins. Hi was askin’ if you were coming. He wants to speak to you.’’ And the Judge would favor him with a ponderous stare and sink into a seat beside the most inviting companion. It was not until Mabel Sniffins announced that she was going to pledge the Ladies’ Aid to stay away from the Idle Hour that Bill got desperate. As usual he took his troubles to Henry Huff, who had the poorest features and the brightest ideas of any of the film salesmen who made Millville on their rounds. More than once Bill had booked a super-feature from Henry in sheer gratitude for a good suggestion, and it was to Henry that he poured out his tale of trouble. Henry puffed reflectively on his cigar and inspected the ceiling with an air of engrossment for fully ten minutes before a smile played around the corner of his mouth. “You play two acts of vaudeville every Saturday, don’t you?” he asked. “I’ll book in a team for Friday and Saturday of next week.” “But I only play ’em Saturday,” protested Bill, who found it not so easy to pay the one-day salaries. “You’ll book this act for two days,” announced Huff decidedly, “and you’ll work it just as I tell you.” Bill nodded, and the cautious Henry took him into the deserted auditorium to reveal the plot, fearful lest Bill’s cashier might overhear. The following Friday evening as the Judge lumbered down the aisle. Bill did not make his customary effort to steer the jurist into a safe haven alongside of his fellow men. He actually smiled when the Judge unostentatiously dropped into the invitingly vacant seat beside a handsome young woman who seemed to be alone. Subdued mirth rippled through the house, for the woman was a stranger, and everyone wondered what she would think when the Judge started to laugh. They did not have long to wait, for the second number was a comedy, and presently the Judge’s guffaw rang through the house. With judicial caution he slapped his own leg the first two or three times, to establish the habit, but with the fourth laugh his heavy hand landed on his fair companion. He stared in astonishment as a muffled squawk sounded through the house and as he offered his innocent apology he mentally cursed a woman who would carry a child’s toy in her pocket. Forgetting that women no longer wear pockets in tEeir skirts. On the next laugh he aimed at the knee, and was rewarded with another sound that suggested an aggrieved puppy wrapped in a blanket. He glanced suspiciously at the woman, but she was so seemingly unconscious of anything untoward that he ventured a third attack, to draw a deeper base note from his seatmate and a delighted chuckle from the others in the audience. But the Judge was still game, though flustered, and it was not until the fourth attack that he fled the field while the remainder of the audience laughed. “Not going so soon, Judge?” asked Bill, standing at the head of the aisle, and he shook his head sympathetically as the Judge muttered something about a decision he had forgotten to prepare, and hurried through the lobby. It was not until the following evening that Millville got the real lowdown on what had happened. The Judge was there, to brazen it out, but he was sitting alongside (Continued on page 445)