The Inola Register. (Inola, Okla.), Vol. 7, No. 13, Ed. 1 Thursday, November 7, 1912 Page: 3 of 8
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CHAPTER I.
What's In a Name?
To possess two distinctly allen red
corpuscles In one's blood, metaphor-
ically If not la facj, two cbaractera or
Individuality under one epldermla,
la. In moat cases, a peculiar disadvan-
tage. One hears of acoundrela and
aalnta striving to consume ona an-
other In one body, angels and har-
plea; but ofttlmea, quite the contrary
to being a curse, these two warring
temperamenta become a man's ulti-
mate blessing: as In the case of
Oeorge P. A. Jones, of Mortimer £
Jones, the great metropolitan Oriental
rug and carpet company, all of which
haa a dignified, sonorous sound.
George was divided within himself.
This he would not have confessed
•ven Into the trusted If battered ear
of the Egyptian Sphynx. There was.
however, no demon-angel sparring for
polnta In George's soul. The difficulty
might be set forth In this manner:
On one side stood Inherent common
sense; on the other, a boundless, ro-
seate Imagination which was like-
wise Inherent—a kind of qulxote imag-
ination of suitable modern pattern.
This alter ego terrified him whenever
It raised Its strangely beautiful head
and shouldered aside his guardian-
angel (for that's what common sense
Is, argue to what end you will) and
pleaded In that luminous rhetoric un-
der the spell of which our old friend
Sancho often fell asleep.
P. A., as they called him behind the
counters, was but twenty-eight, and If
he was vice president in his late fa-
ther's shoes he didn't wabble round
In them to any great extent. In a
crowd lie was not notlccatole; he
didn't stand head and shoulders above
his fellow-men, nor would ho have
been mistaken by nearsighted per-
sons. the myopes, for the Vatican's
Apollo In the flesh. He was of me-
dium height, beardless, slender, but
tough and wiry and enduring. You
may see his prototype on the streets
a dozen times a day. and you may
also pass him without turning round
for a second view Young men like
P. A. must be Intimately known to
be admired; you did not throw your
arm across his neck, flrst-off. His
hair was brown and closely clipped
about a head that would have gained
the attention of the phrenologist. If
not that of the casual passer by. His
bumps. In the phraseology of that
science, were good ones. For the rest.
clean boy like this one had not been
sent to her In her youth. You see.
the worldly-wise woman knows that
It Is Invariably the lay-figure and not
Prince Charming that a woman mar-
ries, and that matrimony la blind-
man's bufT In grown-ups.
Many of ua lay the blame upon our
parents. We shift the burden of won-
dering why we have this fault and
lack that grace to the shoulders of
our Immediate forbears. We go to
the office each morning denying that
we have any responsibility; we let
the boss do the worrying. But Oeorge
never went prospecting in bis soul for
any such dross philosophy. He was
grateful for having had so beautiful
a mother; proud of having had so
honest a sire; and If either of them
had endued him with false weights he
did his beBt to even up the balance.
The mother had been as romantic
as any heroine out of Mrs. Radcllff's
novels, while the father had owned
to as much romance aB one generally
finds In a thorough business man,
which Is practically none at all. The
very name Itself Is a bulwark against
the intrusions of romance. One can
not lift the Imagination to the pros-
pect of picturing a Jones in ruffles
and higbboots, pinking a varlet in the
midrifT. It smells of sugar-barrels and
cotton-bales, of steamships and rail-
roads. of stolid routine In the office
and of placid concern o\er the daily
news under the evening lamp.
Mrs. Jones, lovely, lettered yet not
worldly, had dreamed of her boy.
bayed and decorated, marrying the
most distinguished woman in all Eu-
rope. whoever she might be. Mr.
Jones had had no dreams at all, and
had put the boy to work In the ship-
ping department a little while after
the college threshold had been crossed,
outward bound. The mother, while
sweet and gentle, had a will, Iron un-
der velvet, and when she held out for
Perclval Algernon and a decent knowl-
edge of modern languages, the old
man agreed If, on the other hand,
the boy's first name should be George
and that he should learn the business
from the cellar up. There were sev-
eral tilts over the matter, but at
length a truce was declared. It was
agreed that the boy himself ought to
have a word to say upon a subject
which concerned him more vitally
than any one else. So, at the age of
fifteen, when he was starting off for
preparatory school, be was advised
to choose for himself. He was an obe-
dient son, adoring bis mother and Idol-
Avtfhor of HEARTS AND /AASKS
Uio MAN Q/S THE BOX ♦
Ilkistraliarvs? J>y M.G.Kettater_ . . .
COPYRIGHT I9II by BOBBS - /^VERRILL COMPANY •
- '
Ha Haunted the Romantle Quarters of the Globs; Ha Was Romantlo.
he observed the world through a pair
of kindly, shy, blue eyea.
Young girls, myopic through Igno-
rance or silliness, seeing nothing be-
yond what the eyes see. seldom gave
htm a second Inspection; for he did
not know how to make himself at-
tractive, and waa mortally afraid of
the opposite, or opposing sex. Ha
could bullyrag a sheik out of his cam-
els' saddle-bags, but petticoats and
lace parasols and small Oxfords bad
lb* same effect upon him that the
prodding stick of a smell boy baa
upon a retiring turtle. Hut many a
Worldly-wise woman, drawing out wltb
tact and ktndnesa the truly beautiful
ithoofhta of thla young mau'a soul,
•ftJUj demanded of fata why a sweet.
izlng his father. He wrote himself
down aa George Perclval Algernon
Jonea, promised to become a linguist
and to learn the rug business from
the cellar up. On the fane of It, It
looked like a big Job; It all depended
upon the boy.
The first day at school bis misery
began. He had signed himself as
Oeorge P. A. Jones, no small diplo-
macy for a lad; but the two Initials,
standing up like dismantled pines In
the midst of uninteresting landscape,
roused the curiosity of bis school-
mates. Hoys are boys the world over,
and possess a finesse In cruelty that
only Indians csn match; and It did
not take them long to unearth the fa-
ta) secret For three years ha waa
Percy Algy, and not only the boys
laughed, but the pretty girls snig-
gered. Many a time he had returned
to his dormitory decorated (not In
accord with the fond hopes of his
mother) with a swollen ear, or a
ruddy proboscis, or a green brown
eye. There was a limit, and when
they stepped over that, why, he pro-
ceeded to the best of his ability to
solve the difficulty with his fists.
Oeorge was 110 milksop; but Perclval
Algernon would have been the Old
Man of the Sea on broader shoulders
ihan his. He dimly realized that had
he been named George Henry William
Jones his sun would have been many
diameters larger. There was a splen-
did quality of pluck under his appar-
ent timidity, and he stuck doggedly
to It. He never wrote home and com-
plained. What was good enough for
his mother was good enough for him.
It seemed Just an ordinary matter
of routine for him to pick up French
and German verbs. He was far from
being brilliant, but he was sensitive
and his memory was sound. Since
his mother's ambition was to see him
an accomplished linguist, he applied
himself to the task as If everything
In the world depended upon It, Just
aa he knew that when the time came
he would apply himself as thoroughly
to the question of ruga and carpets.
tinder all this filial loyalty ran the
pure strain of golden romance, side
by side w ith the lesser metal of prac-
ticality. When he began to read th4
masters he preferred their romances
to their novels. He even wrote poetry
In secret, and when his mother discov-
ered the fact she cried over the senti-
mental verses. The father had to be
told. He laughed and declared that
the boy would some day develop into
a good writer of advertisements. This
quiet laughter, unburdened as it was
with ridicule, wbb enough to set
George's muse a-winglng. and she
never came back.
After leaving college lie was given
a modest letter of credit and told to
go where he pleased for a whole year.
George started out at once In quest
of the Holy Grail, and there are more
roads to that than there are to Rome.
One may be reasonably sure of get-
ting into Rome, whereas the Holy
Grail (diversified, variable, Innumer-
able) Is always the exact sum of a
bunch of hay hanging before old Dob-
bin's nose. Nevertheless, George gal-
loped his fancies with loose rein. He
haunted romance, burrowed an4
plowed for It; and never bis spade
clanged musically against the hidden
treasure, never a forlorn beauty in
distress, not so much as chapter one
of the Golden Book offered Its daz-
zling first page. George lost some con-
fidence.
Two or three times a woman looked
Into the young man's mind, and in his
gullelessness they effected sundry
holes In his letter of credit, but left
his soul singularly untouched The
red corpuscle, bis father's gift, though
It lay dormant, subconsciously erected
barriers. He was Innocent, but he was
no fool. That one year taught him
the lesson, rather cheaply, too. If
there was any romance in life. It came
uninvited, and If courted and sought
was as quick on the wing as that erst-
while poesy must.
The year passed, and while he had
not wholly Riven up the quest, the
practical George agreed with the ro-
mantic Perclval to shelve It indefi-
nitely. He returned to New York
with thirty-two pounds sterling out of
the original thousand, a fact that reju-
venated his paternal parent by some
ten years.
"Jane, that boy Is all right. Percl-
val Algernon could not kill a boy like
that."
"Do you mean to Infer that It ever
could?" Sometimes a qualm wrinkled
her conscience. Her mother's heart
told her that her son ought not to be
shy and bashful, that It was not In
the nature of his blood to suspect
ridicule where there was none. Per-
haps she had handicapped him with
those names; but It was too late now
to admit of this, and useless, since
It would not have remedied the evil.
Jones hemmed and hawed for a
space "No," he answered; "but I
was afraid he might try to live up
to It; and no Perclval Algernon who
lived up to It could put his noae down
to a Shah Abbas and tell how many
knots It had to the square Inch. Ill
start hltn In on the Job tomorrow."
Whereupon the mother sat back
dreamily. Now. where was the girl
worthy of her boy! Monumental ques-
tion. besetting every mother, from Eve
down. Kve, whose trials In this dlreo-
tlon must have been hear rending!
Oeorge left the cellar In due time,
and after that he went up the ladder
In bouuds, on his own merit, mind
you. for bis father never stirred a
hand to boost him. He took the In-
terest In rug* that turns a buyer Into
a collector. It became a fascinating
pleasure rather than a business. Ho
became Invaluable to the house, aiid
j acquired some fame as a Judge and
J an appraiser. When the chief-buyer
. ietlred George wag given the position.
| with an itinerary that carried him half
way round the planet once a year, to
Greece. Turkey, Persia. Arabia, and
India, the lands of the genii and the
bottles, of arabesques, of temples and
tombs, of many-colored turbans and
flowing robes und distracting tongues.
He walked and always In a kind of
mental enchantment.
The suave and elusive Oriental,
with his Bharp practices, found his
match in this pleasant young man,
who knew the history of the very
wools and cottons and silks woven
In a rug or carpet. So George pros-
pered. became known in strange
places, by strange peoples; and saw
romance, light of foot and eager of
eye. pass and repass; learned that
roimnce did not essentially mean fall-
ing in love or rescuing maidens from
burning houses and wrecks; that, on
the contrary, true romance was kalei-
doscopic. having m^re brilliant facets
than a diamond; and that the man
who begins with nothing and ends
with something is more wonderful
than any excursion recounted by Sin-
bad or any tale by Scheherazade. But
he still hoped that the Iridescent god-
dess would some day touch his shoul-
der and lead him into that maze of
romance so peculiar to his own fancy.
And then Into this little world of
business and pleasure came death
and death again, having him alone
and with a twisted heart. Riches
mattered little, and the sounding title
of vtee-preEldent still less. It was
with a distinct shock fhnt he realized
the mother and the father had been
with him so long that he had forgot-
ten to make other friends. From
one thing to another he turned In
hope to soothe the smart, to heal the
wound; and after a time he drifted,
as all shy. Intelligent and Imaginative
men drift who are rrlendless. Into the
silent and Intimate comradeship of in-
animate things, such as Jewels. Ivories,
old metals, rare woods and ancient
pmbroiderles, and perhaps more com-
forting than all these, good books.
The proper tale of how the afore-
said Iridescent goddess Jostled (for It
scarce may be said that she led) him
Into a romance lacking neither com-
edy nor tragedy, now begins with a
trifling bit of retrospection. One of
those women who were not good and
who looked Into the clear pool of the
boy's mind saw the harmless longing
there, and made note, hoping to find
profit by her knowledge when the per-
tinent day arrived. She was a woman
so plpasing. so handsome, so adroit,
that many a man, older and wiser
than George, found her mesh too
strong for him. Her plan matured,
suddenly and brilliantly, as projects
of men and women of her clats and
caliber without variation do.
Late one December afternoon (to
be precise. 19091. George sat on the
tea-veranda of the Hotel Semlratnis
In Cairo. A book lay Idly upon his
knees. It was one of those yams
In which something was happening
every other minute. As adventures
go, George had never had a real one
In all bis twenty-eight years, and he
believed that fate had treated him
rather shabbily. He didn't quite ap-
preciate her reserve. No matter how-
late he wandered through the mysteri-
ous bazaars, either here In Egypt or
over yonder In India, nothing ever be-
fell more exciting than an argument
wl'h a carriage-driver. He never car
tied small-arms, for he would not
haie known how to use them. The
only deadly things In his hands were
bass roda and tennis racquets. No,
nothing ever happened to him: yet
he never met a man in a ship's smoke-
room who hadn't run the gamut of
thrilling experiences. As George
wasn't a liar himself, he believed all
he saw and most of what he heard.
Well, here he was. elght-and wenty,
a pocket full of money, a heart full
of life, and as hopeless an outlook, so
far as romance and adventure were
concerned, as an old maid In a New
England village.
"George, you old fool, what's the
use?" he thought. "What's the use
of a desire that never goes In a
straight line, but alway* round and
round In a circle?"
He thrust aside his grievance and
surrendered to the never-ending won-
der ofthe Egyptian sunset; the Nile
feluccas, riding upon perfect reflec-
tions; the date-palms, black and m<v
tlonless against the translucent blue
of the sky; the amethystine prisms of
the Pyramids, and the deepening gold
of the desert's brim. He loved the
Orient, always so new, always so
strauge, yet ever so old and familiar.
A carriage stopped In front, and his
gnzo naturally shifted. There la cease
less attraction In speculating about
new-comers In a hotel, what they are,
what they do. where they come from,
and where they are going. A fine
elderly man of firty got out. In the
square set of bis shoulders, the flow-
ing white mustache and Imperial,
there was a suggestion of militarism.
He was Immediately followed by a
young woman of twenty, certainly not
over that age. George sighed wist-
fully. He envied those polo-players
and gentleman-riders and bridge-ex-
perts who were stopping at the hotel.
It wouldn't be an hour after dinner
before some one of tbem found out who
she was and spoke to her In that easy
style tfhlch he concluded must be a
gift rather than an accomplishment.
You mustn't suppose for a minute that
George wasn't w ell born and well-bred,
simply because his name was Jones.
Muny a Fltz-Hugh Maurice or Hugh
Fitz-Maurice might have been— But,
no matter. He knew instinctively,
then, what elegance was when he saw
it, and this girl was elegant. In dreBS,
in movement. He rather liked the
pallor of her skin, which hinted that
she wasn't one of those athletic girls
v. ho bounced In and out of the din-
ing-room, talking loudly and smoking
cigarettes ar.d playing bridge for six-
penny points. She was tall. He was
sure that her eyes were on the level
with his own. The grey veil that
drooped from the rim of her simple
I>eghorn hat to the tip of her nose ob-
J scured her eyes, so he could not know
that they were large and brown and
indefinably sad. They spoke not of
a weariness of travel, but of a weari-
ness of the world, more precisely, of
the people who Inhabited It.
She and her companion passed on
into the hotel, and if George's eyes
\eered again toward the desert over
which the stealthy purples of night
were creeping, the Impulse was me-
chanical; he saw nothing. In truth,
he nas desperately lonesome, and he
knew, moreover, that he had no busi-
ness to be. He was young; he could
at a pinch tell a Joke as well as the
next man; and If be had never had
what be called an adventure, he had
seen many strange and wonderful
things and could describe them with
that mental afterglow which Btill lin-
gers over the sunset of our first ex-
pressions in poetry. But there was
always that hydra-headed monster, for
ever getting about his feet, numbing
his voice, paralyzing his hands, and
never he loppejl off a head that an-
other did not Instantly grow In Its
a dog; but one can not carry a do®
half way round the world and back, at
least not with comfort. What with
all these new-fangled quarantine lawa.
duties, and fussy ships' officers who
wouldn't let you keep the animal 1*
your state-room, traveling with a four^
footed friend was aim t an Impossi-
bility. To b« sure, women with
poodiea. . . . And. then, there waa
the bitter of acid In the knowledge
that no one ever came up to him and
slapped him on the shoulder with a—
"Hel-lo, Georgle, old sport; what's the
good word?" for the simple fact that
his shoulder was always bristling with
spikes, born of the fear that some ona
was making fun of him.
Perchanoe his mother's spirit, hol-
ering over him this evening, might
have been Inclined to tears. For they
do say that the ghosts of the dear
ones are thus employed when we ara
near to committing some folly, or to
exploring some forgotten chamber of
Pandora's box, or worse still, when
that lady Intends emptying the whola
contents down upon our unfortunate
heads. If so be, they were futila
tears; Perclval Algernon bad accom-
plished its deadly purpose.
Pandora? Well. then, for the bene-
fit of the children. She was a lady
who was an Intimate friend of the
mythological gods. They liked her ap-
pearance so well that they one day
gave her a box, casket, chest, or what-
ever It was. to guard. By some mar-
velous method, known only of gods,
they had got together all the trials
and trlbula'Ions Of mankind (and soma
of the Joys) and locked tbem up In
this casket. It was the Golden Age.
as you may surmise. You recall Eva
and the apple? Well, Pandora was a
forecast of Eve; she couldn't keep her
eyes off the latch, and at length her
bands—Fatal curiosity! Whirr! And
everything has been at sixes and at
sevens since that time. Pandora is
eternally recurring, now here, now
there; she Is a blonde sometimes, and
again she is a brunette; and you may
take it from George and me that tbera
is always something left in the casket.
George closed the book and consult-
ed his sailing-list. In a short time he
would leave for Port Said, thence to
Naples, Christmas there, and home In
1 January. Business had been ripping.
Ill
Thla Qlrt Waa Elegant, In Dreaa, In Movement.
place. Even the sword of Perseus
could not have saved him, since one
haa to get away from an object In
order to cut It down.
Had he really ever tried to over-
come this monster? Had he not watt-
ed tor the propitious moment (which
you and I know never cornea) to
throw off this species from Hades?
It Is all very well, when you are old
and dried up. to turn tt Ivories and
metals and precious stones; but when
a fellow's young! You can't shake
hands with an Ivory replica of the Taj
Mahal, nor exchange peasantries wltb
a Mandarin's ring, nor jet confide Joys
and Ills Into a casket of rare emer-
alds; Indeed, they do but emphasize
one's loneliness. It only b« bad had
He would be Jolly ^lad to get home
again, to renew his comradeahlp with
his treasures. And, by Jove! tbera
was one man who slapped him on tba
shoulder, and he was no less a person
than the genial president of the Arm.
his father's partner, at rresent bla
own. If the old chap had had a daugh-
ter now. , . , And here orte cornea
at last to the bottom of the sack. He
bad only one definite longing, *
healthy human longing, the only long-
ing worth while In all this deep, wide,
round old top; to love a woman and
by her be loved.
At exactly half after alx the gentle-
man with the reversible cuffa arrived;
and George missed his boat.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
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The Inola Register. (Inola, Okla.), Vol. 7, No. 13, Ed. 1 Thursday, November 7, 1912, newspaper, November 7, 1912; Inola, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc180520/m1/3/: accessed April 24, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.