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This was because of his strongly-cut face, like the grand-ducal villain in a ten-twenty-thirty melodrama, and his habit of saying savage things in a soft, purring voice. He was rude to everybody, and particularly rude, so Sharlee thought, to her. As for the little Doctor, he did not come in at all. Half-way through supper, Sharlee looked at her aunt and gave a meaning glance at the empty seat.
"All of them!" groaned Agatha, as she sank down on the piazza steps. "Jimminy Christmas!" ejaculated Mr. Straker. "This beats any ten-twenty-thirty I ever saw. Regular Dick Deadwood game! And he's run off with my new racer!" "What!" yelled Chamberlain. "Did that bloomin' sheriff let that bloomin' rascal get away?" "He isn't anybody I'd care to keep!" chuckled Straker.
The high-class Rialto houses might pander to low-class comedy and Broadway take its entertainment broad, but Robert Visigoth laid the corner stone of subsequent fortunes when he decided that a ten-twenty-thirty vaudeville audience that smells sour of perspiration and strong foods demands entertainment as pink and as sweet as a baby's heel, and that a gunman in the gallery will catcall his prototype on the stage.
Opera never came within three hundred miles of Wapello, unless it was the so-called comic kind. It was before the day of the ubiquitous moving-picture theatre that has since been the undoing of the one-night stand and the ten-twenty-thirty stock company. The old red-brick opera house furnished unlimited thrills for Josie and her mother.
"I knew a girl," said Marcia reminiscently, "who went on the ten-twenty-thirty when she was sixteen. She was so stuck on herself that she could never say 'sixteen' without putting the 'only' before it. We got to calling her 'Only Jessie. And she's just where she was when she started only worse. 'Only' is a bad habit, Omar it sounds like an alibi." "My name is not Omar."
A gloomy day and the loop streets grimace behind a mist. The electric signs are lighted. The buildings open like great fans in the half dark. The streets invite a mood of melodrama. Windows glint evilly. Doorways grin with rows of electric teeth. This, Jonnerrvetter! is the Great City of the old-time ten-twenty-thirty thrillers. The devourer of innocence, the strumpet of stone.
Hal might sit down on his reporter-friend, Percy might sit down on the waiters and the conductor and the camp-marshal and the gunmen but he could not possibly sit down on all his friends! They would talk about nothing else for weeks! The story would be all over Western City in a day this amazing, melodramatic, ten-twenty-thirty story of a miner's buddy in the private car of the Coal King's son!
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