Photoplay (Jul - Dec 1919)

94 Photoplay Magazine brought him to this state. And I give it to him rather than have Phillip know that this crazed, drunken creature is his father." The mountain woman was mute with pity and horror. Here, then — in this gentle home full of young life and gayety — was the same shadow that had overhung her mountain hut and blotted out her happiness. Meanwhile Phillip and Cynthia had found their way through the busy, noisy streets to the little laundry kept by Lefty Jones and his fat, good-natured mother. Usually the place was filled with goodcheer and a lively racket from the two youngsters Nora and Mickey Jones, but on this occasion, wails which were anything but joyous were coming from the little family within the tiny shop. "It's a shame, darlint, that's what it is," Mrs. Jones was crooning to the little boy who was sobbing his heart out in her arms. "But stop your howling now and it's a fine dill pickle you'll be getting at dinner. Bad cess to the rum-hounds. They don't even spare the innocent children " Phillip entered in the midst of this tumult and sympathetically inquired the cause. The answers came in a rush of hysterical language from Mrs. Jones, Lefty the older son and the two little Jones' evidently the chief sufferers. It appears that "their old man'' had sent them down to "Mike's place" for "a can of suds." This had happened before but not without vigorous protest from Ma and Lefty and Lefty's friend Eddie, whose one desire was to get on the police force. The old man's drunken violence had been too much for them, however, and the two toddlers had started out after the brew that they had already learned to loathe as the cause of all their misery. In the crowded, noisy saloon some drunken loafer had offered to pay for Pa Jones' beer if Nora would give him a kiss. Little Mickey, in rushing to protect his sister, had been tripped up by another practical joker which explained the swelling bump on his forehead. The two children had fled sobbing for home to be comforted by Ma's righteous indignation. "It's de same story every night," Lefty told his visitors. "When it ain't de kids, it's de man who gets soused and beats dem up. ■ Dere ain't nutting I kin do till I git my growth. Den I teach de old man where he gets off at, see?" So'-jred and silenced by the half tragic, half grot..jque little scene, Phillip and Cynthia left the laundry for home. Like her mother, Cynthia had learned in her first day in the city that the shadow of intoxication was not confined to the moonshiner's stills on her lonely mountains. But after this first, depressing impression of city life, followed days of eager delight in her new environment. Phillip had found her a position in his own office, as assistant to Roger Hampton, his official "boss." Hampton was the usual combination of strength, suavity, sensuality and hardness, a powerfully built man with a forceful mouth and steely eyes — in short, the average man about town. The only genuine trait that his intimates had been able to discover was his affection for his invalid daughter, Elise. who believed him to be the noblest and tenderest man in the world. His shrewd eyes at once caught the dawning love between Cynthia and Phillip and when the young man came to him and shyly hinted at his engagement "as soon as I can make good, sir," he greeted him with all enthusiasm and cordiality. "■you're a lucky dog, my boy," said the boss, slapping him on the back in the customary, congratulatory manner. "She's the prettiest girl I've seen in this jaded city since I came here. How about a little party to-night — just you two to celebrate? I'll send over a few quarts of Mumm just to make it really festive.'" So it came about that Phillip and Cynthia found themselves seated at a small table in the midst of the most ornate and dazzling cafe on Broadway. Cynthia was too polite to voice her thought but to herself she admitted that she hated it all — the blinding light, the twanging of the jazz Ijand and the incredible girls in the cabaret which made her blush and avoid Phillip's eye. Moreover, Phillip himself worried her. He kept the waiter constantly refilling his glass with the strange, bubbling liquid, and his conversation was growing louder and less coherent with every glass. Finally she ventured a remonstrance. "But dear, we must drink it all,'' he insisted. "The boss sent it and he'd be peevish if he thought we didn't enjoy it. Besides he's just doubled my salary." While, behind a bower of palms, "the boss" and two of his club members sat enjoying the scene and laughing at Hampton's latest device for disposing of the fiance of the girl he was determined to possess. Finally Cynthia could bear it no longer. She rose to go before the ices were ser\'ed and Phillip followed her, protesting