Crawford completed the rehearsal in less than an hour. He listened to the orchestra run through its selections, okayed the song the guest vocalist had chosen, then finished up with a long dialogue between Spud and himself. When it was over he checked timing with the program director, made a few script changes and conferred briefly with a Special Service Officer about the number of troops the auditorium... more...

THE GHOST OF JERRY BUNDLER. Scene.—The Commercial Room in an old-fashioned hotel in a small country town. An air of old-fashioned comfort is in evidence everywhere. Old sporting prints on the walls. On the table up C. are half a dozen candlesticks, old-fashioned shape with snuffer attached. Two pairs of carpet slippers are set up within fender. Red curtains to window recess. Shutters or blinds to... more...

CHAPTER I Mr. Templeton Thorpe was soon to be married for the second time. Back in 1860 he married a girl of twenty-two, and now in the year 1912 he was taking unto himself another girl of twenty-two. In the interim he had achieved a grandson whose years were twenty-nine. In his seventy-seventh year he was worth a great many millions of dollars, and for that and no other reason perhaps, one of the... more...

HER TRUTHFULNESS. "Behold, Thou requirest truth in the inward parts."—Psalm li. 6. We stand to-day like men who have just watched a great sunset. On some beautiful summer evening we must all of us have watched a sunset, and we know how, first of all, we see the great orb slowly decline towards the horizon; then comes the sense of coming loss; then it sets amid a blaze of glory, and then it is... more...

CHAPTER I. “GOOD-BYE” TO THE OLD LIFE. “Me want to see Hetty,” said an imperious baby voice. “No, no; not this morning, Miss Nan, dear.” “Me do want to see Hetty,” was the quick, impatient reply. And a sturdy indignant little face looked up at Nurse, to watch the effect of the last decisive words. Finding no affirmative reply on Nurse’s placid face, the small lips closed firmly—two... more...

HER LETTER I'msitting alone by the fire,Dressed just as I came from the dance,In a robe evenyouwould admire,—It cost a cool thousand in France;I'm be-diamonded out of all reason,My hair is done up in a cue:In short, sir, "the belle of the season"Is wasting an hour upon you. In short, sir, "the belle of the season" Is wasting an hour upon you A dozenengagements I've... more...

the terrors of a certain night when the wind was howling and the rain was beating down in torrents over the arid plains of the Lüneburger Haide; between them they had blown or blotted out the flickering lights of a heavy, lumbering travelling carriage such as one used to hire in the so-called good old times. The horses were plunging in the mire, the postillion was swearing, and a very small boy was... more...

Chapter 1 A Little Village Called Montignies St. Christophe We passed through it late in the afternoon—this little Belgian town called Montignies St. Christophe—just twenty-four hours behind a dust- colored German column. I am going to try now to tell how it looked to us. I am inclined to think I passed this way a year before, or a little less, though I cannot be quite certain as to that. Traveling... more...

INTRODUCTION Birdseye Views of Far Lands is an interesting, wholesome presentation of something that a keen-eyed, alert traveler with the faculty of making contrasts with all classes of people in all sorts of places, in such a sympathetic way as to win their esteem and confidence, has been able to pick up as he has roamed over the face of the earth for a quarter of a century. The book is not a... more...

CHAPTER I THE UP CALL FOR TORCHY Well, it's come! Uh-huh! And sudden, too, like I knew it would, if it came at all. No climbin' the ladder for me, not while they run express elevators. And, believe me, when the gate opened, I was right there with my foot out. It was like this: One mornin' I'm in my old place behind the brass rail, at the jump-end of the buzzer. I'm... more...