Photoplay Magazine Cover — page 47: what you’re looking at

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

Photoplay Magazine As he was puzzling over the matter the little man’s voice came to him. ‘’Course, Milly Joolie DuGanny ain’t her name!” the little man snorted. ‘“She’s a milliner an’ that’s her nom de plume. People pay twice as much for a French name as they do for an Irish one—in a hat.” Shane turned, with a suppressed grin, and entered the store. It was his introduction to Judy Dugan. ELIVERY men usually don’t get along very well with French modistes. They don’t move in the same circles. But, after all, Judy Dugan was not French. Shane, while waiting for his receipt, was forced to witness an unpleasant scene between the girl and her intoxicated father, And it put them, at once, upon a common meeting-ground. Shane was immediately only a willing-to-help Irishman and Judy was only an Irish girl in trouble. Before he had left the shop with his receipted book, Shane was a friend who had promised to get Judy’s father a job as night watchman with the express company that he worked for. For, as Judy said, “He's a dear oll daddy, when he’s himself. But since he's lost his job again, and he’s drinking hard, 1’m in despair.” So Shane went to his boss to beg a job for old Du- gan. And he got one — for Dugan. But for himself there was only ~, another disap- « pointment. : “Sure, Dll give your friend work as a night watchman,” the boss told him, “but say, I’m sorry—but Tl have to fire you. We're selling our horses and buying motor trucks. And you can’t drive a motor truck, can you?” Sadly, Shane had to admit that he couldn’t. And _ still more sadly he went back to the Morahan flat to write to Moyna of another bitter disappoint- ment that had come to him, Somehow life seemed very hard. In the meanwhile, back in Ireland, old Bridget Morahan was reading a letter from her son, and Moyna, close beside her, was reading one from Shane in which he told her that he had a grand job driving a truck, and would soon be sending for her. Her eyes were joy-filled as she read the letter, for how could she know that the “grand job” was a grand job no longer? ee must be something, after all, in mental telepathy. For, back in New York, Michael was feeling shades of remorse for leaving his mother so long alone. In response to Shane’s heartbroken remark, “Every time I save up a little to send for Moyna, me job drops away from under me,” Michael answered sadly, “Moyna is pining away for a year, and me mother has brooded there for twenty-five!” He sat thinking of the old home as Shane stole out of the room. And as he sat there a resolve was born to go for his mother, and to bring her back with him. Shane, in the meantime, depressed and hopeless, wandered out of the flat. And, drawn as if by some magnet, he found himself walking in the direction of the Dugan apartment. And something made him go in. Judy was glad to see him, of course. For Shane was a very personable young man. And before he had been there long, he was cheered up again—almost smiling. Judy had a way 47 with her—she could teach a man to dance almost as easily as she could give smartness to a plain little hat. And she could teach other things, too. It was the first of a series of calls that Shane made, The days drifted on—not too eventfully. Shane, with the little money that he had saved up, decided to take lessons as a chauffeur... He studied hard, and it was small wonder that he should want relaxation of an evening. It was to Judy that he turned—Judy who had troubles of her own, what with a new business and an old sot of a father, and could under- stand the heart of a fellow who was lonely and discouraged. Moyna had never seemed so far away, before—the little money that Shane had saved had been to bring her to America, and soon there would be none of it left. The situation was hard— but Judy was always comforting. Yes, Moyna had never seemed so far away. But in reality she had never been much nearer—since that day when Shane “Tf he truly loved me,” said Moyna, “he'd feel it in his bones ] was here!" For Michael Mornahan, who bade her goodbye in Ireland. had made good his determination to visit his mother in the old home, had decided that he could not say goodbye again, His mother should go back with him to America, he declared, and Moyna should go with them. “We'll surprise th’ boy,” he told the radiant Moyna. “He's a good boy, so he is!” And it was speedily arranged. It was the morning of their arrival that Shane, at the Morna- han breakfast table, exploded—or was instrumental in ex- ploding—a real bomb shell. The family—Delia, Michael’s wife, Miles and Barney—a policeman and a fireman respec- tively, as well as the sons of the family—and Kate, the daugh- ter, were all seated there teasing Shane about Moyna, and his inability to send for her. And as they were talking, a sudden knock came at the door and Judy flounced in. She had smiles for everyone, but her most glorious smile went to Shane. “TT’S all right!” she told him, in a low voice, and Shane an- swered, “Then I'll see the priest as soon as you get your father’s consent.” Was it any wonder that the Mornahan family believed there was a wedding in the air? Especially, when Shane refused point blank to answer any of their questions, and would say, “It’s something I can’t tell anybody. It’s a sacred secret!” After Shane left, Delia was much disturbed. She talked OMNUGCLIOOLKS co