Picture-Play Weekly (Apr-Oct 1915)

Fine Feathers (WORLD) By Kenneth Rand Jane Reynolds, the wife of a twenty-five-dollar-a-week analytical chemist, forced him to sell his honor to satisfy her love of luxury. The sorrow, instead of joy, their wealth brought them, is told in a way to bring home the truth that happiness cannot be bought at the price of dishonesty, in this story based on the World Film Corporation's five-part photo drama of the same name. Featuring Janet Beecher in the role of the wife whose love for fine clothes disrupted their once-contented home. The rest of the cast was as follows: Bob Reynolds David Powell John Brand Lyster Chambers Dick Meade Henry Gsell MRS. REYNOLDS turned away from the department-store counters, with their array of tempting feminine finery, and walked to the door, with a regretful sigh. "If Bob only made money enough,'' she said to herself, ''so that I could buy things like that !" She was only twenty-three, though she had been married for five years. Young and pretty, she longed for beautiful clothes in which to further enhance her natural attractions. Vain? Yes, she was that. But, then, what woman isn't ? Bob, her husband, was an analytical chemist in the city's employ, at a salary of twenty-five dollars a week. It was all he had been making for the past five years. It was all he could ever hope to make in the same position. An hour later, Jane Reynolds let herself into their Harlem flat with her latchkey. And she sighed again. Her glance swept over the cheap furnishings of the small parlor, ■'.vhich was one of the four cubby-holes, miscalled rooms by an optimistic landlord, that comprised the apartment. "Oh, I wish," she breathed, almost fiercely, "that we could live in a decent place, instead of this — this " She broke ofT, as the doorbell rang. Answering it, she confronted a man in a handsome, fur-lined overcoat, whose whole appearance radiated prosperity, in short — a man she had never seen before. "This is Mrs. Reynolds, isn't it?" he addressed her smilingly. She nodded, and stood holding the doorknob "But.'' he went on, his smile giving way before an expression of surprise as she made no move to invite him in, "didn't Bob let you know I was coming?" I'm John Brand, an old college classmate of his. I called on him at his ofiice, not two hours ago, and he invited me to take dinner with you both this evening. He said that he would telephone and explain matters to you )j Flushing embarrassedly, Jane opened the door wider and drew back invitingly. She hesitated to confess before this well-to-do stranger, who by his own statement was an old friend of Bob's, that they had no telephone. She understood what Bob had probably meant, when he said he would let her know that the other was coming. He must have sent a messenger boy with a note up to the flat, and it had come while she was downtown shopping. "Oh, come right in I" she urged hospitably. "I — I've been downtown, and that's why Bob's message didn't reach me. Let me take your hat and coat. It's almost time for him to get home, and he'll be in any minute." Even as she spoke, Bob's key turned in the door, and he entered the flat. Looking from Brand to him. Jane could not help noticing how shabby her husband looked by comparison with his friend's well-groomed appearance. She wondered what business this Mr. Brand could be in, that permitted him to look so modish. Bob, after exchanging a hearty greeting with his old classmate, excused himself to him and led Jane out into the hall. "Didn't the messenger boy get here with my note?" he whispered anxiously. "I don't know," said Jane. "I was out, if he came. What are we going to do about dinner? There's nothing in the house that's worth setting before a guest. Have you " Bob ransacked his pockets, understanding her unspoken question, and unearthed a two-dollar bill. "That'll be enough to do it, won't it?" he asked. "You run out to the market, and hurry up back, while I entertain him. Get a steak, and a few other things — we don't need to make a showing for Johnny Brand." Nevertheless, Jane took pains to make the dinner as attractive as possible. Throughout it, she watched the visitor interestedly. The question of his occupation or profession, which was obviously so much better paying than Bob's, kept running through her mind. As he noticed her glance traveling over Brand's well-tailored clothes, the jeweled scarfpin in his cravat, and the costly platinum-and-pearl watch chain that stretched across the front of his vest, Bob's brows met in a disapproving frown. He misunderstood Jane's innocent curiosity as to his friend's vocation, for something more. He could see himself that Brand made him look like a "piker" — to use his own word — by his clothes and general appearance of wealth. And he turned silent. After the dessert, Jane withdrew to the kitchen to wash the dishes. A moment after she had left them alone in the dining room, she heard its door close. Through it, she could make out the murmur of Brand's voice. She withdrew her hands from the dish