Photoplay (Jan-Jun 1920)

Woman Ninetynine per cent of the world's domestic discord is caused by money or lack of it. That was the one false note in the love-harmony of Dan Hillyer and his worshipping wife. This gripping narrative of their fight teaches a lesson that should not be lightly cast aside. help you, Dan. But my dear" — a flood of tenderness for this foolish boy of hers rushed over her and filled her eyes with tears — "my dear, if you had only told me in the beginning. Now Dan," Madge's cheeks flushed anci her voice grew soft. "now we must win out, you and I — because— because — " Dan raised Madge's drooping head, antl forced her to look at him. There was a tender mother love in her eyes. He clasped her to him. THEIR social friends believed that Dan and Madge Hillyer packed up and went South the following week. Instead, they sold all but a few of their possessions and went East — way over East in a part of New York City as unknown to their friends as the heart of Africa — even less. On the edge of the East Side with its crowded tenements, its seething, dirty streets, its push-cart markets, its jargoning bargainers, Madge found a tiny apartment in a rather new house watched over by a kindly dispositioned janitress, Mrs. Sherman. It was clean, it was comparatively cheap, and its handiness to the curbstone vegetable dealers and the inexpensive stores, where those who were really poor could find things within their means, made it desirable from Madge's new viewpoint. At any rate, the novelty of the experience wooed her into forgetfulness of its sordidness, at first. And how she economized! How she scrimped and saved! How she planned— while Dan put the finishing touches to the invention on which they had staked everything they possessed and helped her with the housekeeping all he could. One day. several months after they had entered upon their new existence, a letter arrived at the Hillyer flat addressed to Dan. It came just at the moment when Dan, clad in pajamas and bathrobe, was pressing the one and only business suit that remained. Madge was out marketing. Returning, she found her husband frisking about like a little boy. He rushed to her, grabbed her in his arms for a resounding smack — but not before she had managed to slip a box she carried behind the bedroom door — then handed her the letter. It was from the secretary of Colonel Elijah Barnard of San F"rancisco, president of one of the largest smelter plants in the world. She read: "Dear Mr. Hillyer: "Colonel Barnard directs me to say that he is much interested in your smelter process and will be pleased to see you at the eastern offices of the Coast Smelting Company at your earliest convenience. "Ver\' truly yours, "Thomas J. Martin." "Dan." Madge exulted, taking his face between her hands, which had become calloused and worn during her months of unaccustomed work, "I am so proud of you, dear." Madge looked into his wliite face and blood-sJiot eyes. "Go' ' she said bet-ween taut lips. "If you don t I — 1 think 1 shall kill you 1" Dan went back to his pressing, but as he looked down on the worn trousers spread out on the board, he gave a grunt of dismay. "Oh, Madge," he despaired, "look at these. Like the onehoss shay, I'm going all at once." Madge picked up the trousers to examine them more closely, and as she stretched the thin fabric out to see the extent of the worn place, it gave way. Madge looked at Dan in horror. A sudden burst of anger — anger at circumstances, at Fate — seized Dan. He jerked the trousers from Madge's hands and tore them to pieces, then stamped on them. "I wore out that suit in their confounded chairs, awaiting my chance, and now"^he snorted, pacing up and down — "now — oh, it's too ghastly! Madge, we're ruined, unless" — a sudden hope springing up in him — "you can do something." Madge had accomplished so many things these past few months — had produced so many needed things out of thin air, that Dan had acquired an almost childlike belief that her powers were unlimited. And indeed, though Dan did not know it, Madge already had done something to replace the now ruined garment. That afternoon she had gone to the little secondhand shop where Anton, the friendly Jewish tailor, made old clothes look as good as new. Dan's eyes opened wide in happy surprise when that box slipped surreptitiously behind the bedroom door appeared draped on the end of a broom through the partly opened bedroom door a moment later. The box held a dark gray suit. 37