Argosy, Vol. 122, No. 1 — page 75: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

FOUR Sidney Barbee who always dominated everything, everywhere. Why, years ago, when John Malcolm had done Fagin in that identical play of “ Oliver Twist ’—for he had been shriveled since forty and was often cast in those nearly-old- men parts—when he had been playing Fagin, the great Barbee!’ had always insisted on a little eccentric jerk of the heel as the Jew turned to center-stage and away from Nancy Sykes. Wonder if he could do that turn on his heel now? Of course he could. Oh, a thousand pardons, lady. He’d no intention, he assured her, of stepping back- ward on her foot. But he wondered as he went on why she hadn’t called him a crazy old idiot—people did that so frequently of late. Now, whén he had been a younger man, the falrer sex— Ahem! He smiled. Hold on! Perhaps she hadn’t heard his apology; perhaps she was deaf, like Collie- boy; or maybe she had said something that he hadn’t heard. Maybe he was getting a mite deaf himself. Yes, he agreed that he was. Damn it, he’d forgotten his gloves! Until that instant he had really overlooked the fact that he no longer possessed a pair. Unpardonable, for Sidney Barbee always approved of gloves; but no matter, too late ‘to mend that now. It usually was dark in the wings; he must contrive to meet the actor-star in the shadows of the wings, and those knots and callouses on his ‘hands might not be seen. And if he should be invited to go to Barbee’s dressing-room, and naturally he would be, he must then remember to keep his hands in his pockets, or behind him. The cigar-maker, merely a chance ac- _quaintance, happened to see the old man and called him down into his basement-shop to give him a smoke. John Malcolm re- turned polite, matter-of-fact thanks, lighted up, and went his way. He was sure that this gift, the first in months—and a cigar, too, his first smoke in years—could together be only another good omen. But stay. What used to go with a cigar? Why, a nosegay, a boutonniere. He had to have one, just a simple flower would do. Providence still at his elbow, for here was a florist’s-shop. Yes, he was obliged to 5 ARcosy BITS. 65 have a flower, for Sidney Barbee always declared it completed a man’s dress. What! That rose the cheapest—and two bits? Oh, certainly, that would be all right, but how about the dozen-and-two eggs at the four- bit price next morning? Oh, nonsense. He would have more money within the hour, plenty of it. Barbee would force money on him when he reengaged him—he always did every season. And even if—pshaw! there wasn’t any “if.” But if— Um-m—well, Collieboy wouldn’t care for an egg in the morning. He often refused to eat. Sometimes Malcolm had been forced to command him to eat, severely, but to no good whatever. And then he would have to pretend that he was going to eat that soft-boiled egg himself. Once he’d almost let himself think he’d like to—to trick his pal into taking ie necessary daily nourish- ment. But, anyway; it was sure to come out all right. He still had two bits left, and he could buy three or four individual eggs, if he had to, at the grocery. As Malcolm swung around the theater corner, a sudden gust blew his silk necktie ends and flicked, a hot cigar-ash into his eye. Hang it all, didn’t his old eyes water enough as it was? And the wind had never blown with such annoying unexpectedness when he was a boy—never! His old eyes were not needed here, how- | ever; a sixth sense found the door, “ Stage Entrance.” He hadn’t known precisely where it was. Usually he had traveled that locality with lowered head, for such doors are memory breeders. But was nobody going in yet? He must be late. His watch. Damn it again, why couldn’t his hand get out of that habit of reaching for what. it knew wasn’t there? With stiffened shoulders now, teeius cigar, and jaunty carriage, and the derby hat at just a wee rakish angle, John Mal- colm stepped to the stage door, opening it. What the devil was the profession coming to? Shall a recognized performer of years experience and reputation be called a “‘ bum old gink ” so contemptuously, and be or- dered to “ beat it’ when he’s only inquired quite civilly for the star? The impudent young sprout! ‘The verbal insult one might cComiclbooks.com