Judge — October 1, 1921 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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

WwW BLAYING || Another Great Moment about “The Great Moment.” “Why,” she said, “you know, I—well, as a matter of fact I must confess I enjoyed it.” Then she hastened to add: “But of course I’d never have gone if Victoria hadn’t wanted me to see it. My, such a crowd! We had to wait to get in.” “Was it good?” Aunt Kate considered. “That's hardly a fair question— for me. I’m no judge of motion pic- tures. I don’t set up to be. But— yes, I think it was good. Somew it was so logical. Usually, they say good-bye in New York and then just happen to meet accidently, next year, in the South Seas—you know. In this play there was always a reason for everything.” “That's fine,” me the story.” “It began in England. The old Earl—or whatever he was—I sup- pose he was an Earl, that’s the high- est, isn’t it?—the old Earl was wor- ried because his daughter showed in- dications of her mother’s wildness.” “Wildne: Was her -e or her Ladyship or whatever she was—Mrs. Earl—one of the wild women?” Aunt Kate tossed her head a little. “Oh, you know how those Earls are. This one married a Gypsy cabaret singer that he met, or something, and he was afraid his daughter would be like her.” “Of course,” [ murmured apologet- shouldn’t an Earl marry a Gypsy cabaret singer if he wanted What’s the use of being an Earl if you can’t do what you want? Aunt Kate went on: “The daughter, as a matter of fact, was a little inclined to—eh—just en- joying herself, I suppose. She saw a young American, and thought he was the man her father was arrang- ing to have her accent, but he wasn’t. He was only on an errand about some T was Aunt Kate whom I asked I admitted. “Tell By Myron M. Srearns mines they all had in America. So the girl—Gloria Swanson, Vic said she was—accepted the Englishman her father had chosen.” “Nothing so wild about that.” “No. It comes later. But you can see how logical it all was. Usually, in the movies I’ve seen, the daugh- ters are wild for no reason at all— just wild. But here there was a reason for it, because the Earl had married a Gypsy dancing woman.” “Correct,” I admitted. “And then, the American. Of course he was the hero. Usually, they just happen to meet again; but here he was on an errand from the mine, so of course, when they come to America to visit the mine, they see him again.” “Oh! So they did that, did they?” “Of course. That was when the snake bit her—in America.” “It’s a free country,” I agreed. “But this snake business is a bit sud- den, isn’t it? Tell me about that “It was at the mine. She to ride home with the American, and they got off their horses to look at the view or something. Then a snake scared the horses and they ran away together.” “Elopement?” “Of course not! The horses, nat- urally. And the snake struck at the American, but missed him. Then the girl dropped her glove, and when the girl stooped over to pick it up, the snake bit her right—er—-the snake bit her.” I looked at Aunt Kate closely. was blushing. “Aunt Kate,” I said “You’re holding out on me. not telling everything. “I’m telling you enough.” She was quite primly uncomfortable. “As I said, the snake bit her—bit her. Then, of course, the American had to—had to—get the poison out.” “Suck the wound?” 26 She severely, You're “T said, get the poison out.” Aunt Kate was very much on her dignity. “It was done in a very gentlemanly way.” There seemed to be a ten- dency to rush this part of the nar- rative, but I refrained from further comment. “Then he had to take her to his cabin, which happened to be the only house anywhere around, 1 of course he gave her whiskey—for the bite. It made her a little unruly, so that when she came to, the wild strain she’d inherited from her mother was uppermost,—you see how logical it all is—and she—er—put her arms around him. Then the Earl and her fiancé leoked in the window and saw them. Of course they both disowned her and left for England at once.” “Couldn’t she explain, when she sobered up—or the American?” “They wouldn’t listen. It was quite logical that they wouldn't under the circumstances. So the American married her. “That the end of the story?” “Oh, no! It’s only the beginning. The American left her at once, of course, after the wedding, because he was such a gentleman, although she didn’t want him to. So she went to Washington and had quite a fling —diving into a lake full of mermaids with her clothes on, and everything. It was wonderful!” Aunt Kate was evidently quite thrilled. “But in the end, of course, her husband, the American, came back after having the marriage annulled and got her away from the terrible rich man who was trying to buy her.” “Yes,” | murmured, “with his money, of course. Thank you Aunt Kate.” Aunt Kate looked at me question- ingly. ‘“Wasn’t it—doesn’t it seem to you that it was logical?” But I refused to answer. [Next week: “The Three Musketeers.” |