1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004
1005
1006
1007
1008
1009
1010
1011
1012
1013
1014
1015
1016
1017
1018
1019
1020
1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060
1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104
1105
1106
1107
1108
1109
1110
1111
1112
1113
1114
1115
1116
1117
1118
1119
1120
1121
1122
1123
1124
1125
1126
1127
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183
1184
1185
1186
1187
1188
1189
1190
1191
1192
1193
1194
1195
1196
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221
1222
1223
1224
1225
1226
1227
1228
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267
1268
1269
1270
1271
1272
1273
1274
1275
1276
1277
1278
1279
1280
1281
1282
1283
1284
1285
1286
1287
1288
1289
1290
1291
1292
1293
1294
1295
1296
1297
1298
1299
1300
1301
1302
1303
1304
1305
1306
1307
1308
1309
1310
1311
1312
1313
1314
1315
1316
1317
1318
1319
1320
1321
1322
1323
1324
1325
1326
1327
1328
1329
1330
1331
1332
1333
1334
1335
1336
1337
1338
1339
1340
1341
1342
1343
1344
1345
1346
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354
1355
1356
1357
1358
1359
1360
1361
1362
1363
1364
1365
1366
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413
1414
1415
1416
1417
1418
1419
1420
1421
1422
1423
1424
1425
1426
1427
1428
1429
1430
1431
1432
1433
1434
1435
1436
1437
1438
1439
1440
1441
1442
1443
1444
1445
1446
1447
1448
1449
1450
1451
1452
1453
1454
1455
1456
1457
1458
1459
1460
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488
1489
1490
1491
1492
1493
1494
1495
1496
1497
1498
1499
1500
1501
1502
1503
1504
1505
1506
1507
1508
1509
1510
1511
1512
1513
1514
1515
1516
1517
1518
1519
1520
1521
1522
1523
1524
1525
1526
1527
1528
1529
1530
1531
1532
1533
1534
1535
1536
1537
1538
1539
1540
1541
1542
1543
1544
1545
1546
1547
1548
1549
1550
1551
1552
1553
1554
1555
1556
1557
1558
1559
1560
1561
1562
1563
1564
1565
1566
1567
1568
1569
1570
1571
1572
1573
1574
1575
1576
1577
1578
1579
1580
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585
1586
1587
1588
1589
1590
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615
1616
1617
1618
1619
1620
1621
1622
1623
1624
1625
1626
1627
1628
1629
1630
1631
1632
1633
1634
1635
1636
1637
1638
1639
1640
1641
1642
1643
1644
1645
1646
1647
1648
1649
1650
1651
1652
1653
1654
1655
1656
1657
1658
1659
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684
1685
1686
1687
1688
1689
1690
1691
1692
1693
1694
1695
1696
1697
1698
1699
1700
1701
1702
1703
1704
1705
1706
1707
1708
1709
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
1717
1718
1719
1720
1721
1722
1723
1724
1725
1726
1727
1728
1729
1730
1731
1732
1733
1734
1735
1736
1737
1738
1739
1740
1741
1742
1743
1744
1745
1746
1747
1748
1749
1750
1751
1752
1753
1754
1755
1756
1757
1758
1759
1760
1761
1762
1763
1764
1765
1766
1767
1768
1769
1770
1771
1772
1773
1774
1775
1776
1777
1778
1779
1780
1781
1782
1783
1784
1785
1786
1787
1788
1789
1790
1791
1792
1793
1794
1795
1796
1797
1798
1799
1800
1801
1802
1803
1804
1805
1806
1807
1808
1809
1810
1811
1812
1813
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
1872
1873
1874
1875
1876
1877
1878
1879
1880
1881
1882
1883
1884
1885
1886
1887
1888
1889
1890
1891
1892
1893
1894
1895
1896
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
1918
1919
1920
1921
1922
1923
1924
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
1970
1971
1972
1973
1974
1975
1976
1977
1978
1979
1980
1981
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
2025
2026
2027
2028
2029
2030
2031
2032
2033
2034
2035
2036
2037
2038
2039
2040
2041
2042
2043
2044
2045
2046
2047
2048
2049
2050
2051
2052
2053
2054
2055
2056
2057
2058
2059
2060
2061
2062
2063
2064
2065
2066
2067
2068
2069
2070
2071
2072
2073
2074
2075
2076
2077
2078
2079
2080
2081
2082
2083
2084
2085
2086
2087
2088
2089
2090
2091
2092
2093
2094
2095
2096
2097
2098
2099
2100
2101
2102
2103
2104
2105
2106
2107
2108
2109
2110
2111
2112
2113
2114
2115
2116
2117
2118
2119
2120
2121
2122
2123
2124
2125
2126
2127
2128
2129
2130
2131
2132
2133
2134
2135
2136
2137
2138
2139
2140
2141
2142
2143
2144
2145
2146
2147
2148
2149
2150
2151
2152
2153
2154
2155
2156
2157
2158
2159
2160
2161
2162
2163
2164
2165
2166
2167
2168
2169
2170
2171
2172
2173
2174
2175
2176
2177
2178
2179
2180
2181
2182
2183
2184
2185
2186
2187
2188
2189
2190
2191
2192
2193
2194
2195
2196
2197
2198
2199
2200
2201
2202
2203
2204
2205
2206
2207
2208
2209
2210
2211
2212
2213
2214
2215
2216
2217
2218
2219
2220
2221
2222
2223
2224
2225
2226
2227
2228
2229
2230
2231
2232
2233
2234
2235
2236
2237
2238
2239
2240
2241
2242
2243
2244
2245
2246
2247
2248
2249
2250
2251
2252
2253
2254
2255
2256
2257
2258
2259
2260
2261
2262
2263
2264
2265
2266
2267
2268
2269
2270
2271
2272
2273
2274
2275
2276
2277
2278
2279
2280
2281
2282
2283
2284
2285
2286
2287
2288
2289
2290
2291
2292
2293
2294
2295
2296
2297
2298
2299
2300
2301
2302
2303
2304
2305
2306
2307
2308
2309
2310
2311
2312
2313
2314
2315
2316
2317
2318
2319
2320
2321
2322
2323
2324
2325
2326
2327
2328
2329
2330
2331
2332
2333
2334
2335
2336
2337
2338
2339
2340
2341
2342
2343
2344
2345
2346
2347
2348
2349
2350
2351
2352
2353
2354
2355
2356
2357
2358
2359
2360
2361
2362
2363
2364
2365
2366
2367
2368
2369
2370
2371
2372
2373
2374
2375
2376
2377
2378
2379
2380
2381
2382
2383
2384
2385
2386
2387
2388
2389
2390
2391
2392
2393
2394
2395
2396
2397
2398
2399
2400
2401
2402
2403
2404
2405
2406
2407
2408
2409
2410
2411
2412
2413
2414
2415
2416
2417
2418
2419
2420
2421
2422
2423
2424
2425
2426
2427
2428
2429
2430
2431
2432
2433
2434
2435
2436
2437
2438
2439
2440
2441
2442
2443
2444
2445
2446
2447
2448
2449
2450
2451
2452
2453
2454
2455
2456
2457
2458
2459
2460
2461
2462
2463
2464
2465
2466
2467
2468
2469
2470
2471
2472
2473
2474
2475
2476
2477
2478
2479
2480
2481
2482
2483
2484
2485
2486
2487
2488
2489
2490
2491
2492
2493
2494
2495
2496
2497
2498
2499
2500
2501
2502
2503
2504
2505
2506
2507
2508
2509
2510
2511
2512
2513
2514
2515
2516
2517
2518
2519
2520
2521
2522
2523
2524
2525
2526
2527
2528
2529
2530
2531
2532
2533
2534
2535
2536
2537
2538
2539
2540
2541
2542
2543
2544
2545
2546
2547
2548
2549
2550
2551
2552
2553
2554
2555
2556
2557
2558
2559
2560
2561
2562
2563
2564
2565
2566
2567
2568
2569
2570
2571
2572
2573
2574
2575
2576
2577
2578
2579
2580
2581
2582
2583
2584
2585
2586
2587
2588
2589
2590
2591
2592
2593
2594
2595
2596
2597
2598
2599
2600
2601
2602
2603
2604
2605
2606
2607
2608
2609
2610
2611
2612
2613
2614
2615
2616
2617
2618
2619
2620
2621
2622
2623
2624
2625
2626
2627
2628
2629
2630
2631
2632
2633
2634
2635
2636
2637
2638
2639
2640
2641
2642
2643
2644
2645
2646
2647
2648
2649
2650
2651
2652
2653
2654
2655
2656
2657
2658
2659
2660
2661
2662
2663
2664
2665
2666
2667
2668
2669
2670
2671
2672
2673
2674
2675
2676
2677
2678
2679
2680
2681
2682
2683
2684
2685
2686
2687
2688
2689
2690
2691
2692
2693
2694
2695
2696
2697
2698
2699
2700
2701
2702
2703
2704
2705
2706
2707
2708
2709
2710
2711
2712
2713
2714
2715
2716
2717
2718
2719
2720
2721
2722
2723
2724
2725
2726
2727
2728
2729
2730
2731
2732
2733
2734
2735
2736
2737
2738
2739
2740
2741
2742
2743
2744
2745
2746
2747
2748
2749
2750
2751
2752
2753
2754
2755
2756
2757
2758
2759
2760
2761
2762
2763
2764
2765
2766
2767
2768
2769
2770
2771
2772
2773
2774
2775
2776
2777
2778
2779
2780
2781
2782
2783
2784
2785
2786
2787
2788
2789
2790
2791
2792
2793
2794
2795
2796
2797
2798
2799
2800
2801
2802
2803
2804
2805
2806
2807
2808
2809
2810
2811
2812
2813
2814
2815
2816
2817
2818
2819
2820
2821
2822
2823
2824
2825
2826
2827
2828
2829
2830
2831
2832
2833
2834
2835
2836
2837
2838
2839
2840
2841
2842
2843
2844
2845
2846
2847
2848
2849
2850
2851
2852
2853
2854
2855
2856
2857
2858
2859
2860
2861
2862
2863
2864
2865
2866
2867
2868
2869
2870
2871
2872
2873
2874
2875
2876
2877
2878
2879
2880
2881
2882
2883
2884
2885
2886
2887
2888
2889
2890
2891
2892
2893
2894
2895
2896
2897
2898
2899
2900
2901
2902
2903
2904
2905
2906
2907
2908
2909
2910
2911
2912
2913
2914
2915
2916
2917
2918
2919
2920
2921
2922
2923
2924
2925
2926
2927
2928
2929
2930
2931
2932
2933
2934
2935
2936
2937
2938
2939
2940
2941
2942
2943
2944
2945
2946
2947
2948
2949
2950
2951
2952
2953
2954
2955
2956
2957
2958
2959
2960
2961
2962
2963
2964
2965
2966
2967
2968
2969
2970
2971
2972
2973
2974
2975
2976
2977
2978
2979
2980
2981
2982
2983
2984
2985
2986
2987
2988
2989
2990
2991
2992
2993
2994
2995
2996
2997
2998
2999
3000
3001
3002
3003
3004
3005
3006
3007
3008
3009
3010
3011
3012
3013
3014
3015
3016
3017
3018
3019
3020
3021
3022
3023
3024
3025
3026
3027
3028
3029
3030
3031
3032
3033
3034
3035
3036
3037
3038
3039
3040
3041
3042
3043
3044
3045
3046
3047
3048
3049
3050
3051
3052
3053
3054
3055
3056
3057
3058
3059
3060
3061
3062
3063
3064
3065
3066
3067
3068
3069
3070
3071
3072
3073
3074
3075
3076
3077
3078
3079
3080
3081
3082
3083
3084
3085
3086
3087
3088
3089
3090
3091
3092
3093
3094
3095
3096
3097
3098
3099
3100
3101
3102
3103
3104
3105
3106
3107
3108
3109
3110
3111
3112
3113
3114
3115
3116
3117
3118
3119
3120
3121
3122
3123
3124
3125
3126
3127
3128
3129
3130
3131
3132
3133
3134
3135
3136
3137
3138
3139
3140
3141
3142
3143
3144
3145
3146
3147
3148
3149
3150
3151
3152
3153
3154
3155
3156
3157
3158
3159
3160
3161
3162
3163
3164
3165
3166
3167
3168
3169
3170
3171
3172
3173
3174
3175
3176
3177
3178
3179
3180
3181
3182
3183
3184
3185
3186
3187
3188
3189
3190
3191
3192
3193
3194
3195
3196
3197
3198
3199
3200
3201
3202
3203
3204
3205
3206
3207
3208
3209
3210
3211
3212
3213
3214
3215
3216
3217
3218
3219
3220
3221
3222
3223
3224
3225
3226
3227
3228
3229
3230
3231
3232
3233
3234
3235
3236
3237
3238
3239
3240
3241
3242
3243
3244
3245
3246
3247
3248
3249
3250
3251
3252
3253
3254
3255
3256
3257
3258
3259
3260
3261
3262
3263
3264
3265
3266
3267
3268
3269
3270
3271
3272
3273
3274
3275
3276
3277
3278
3279
3280
3281
3282
3283
3284
3285
3286
3287
3288
3289
3290
3291
3292
3293
3294
3295
3296
3297
3298
3299
3300
3301
3302
3303
3304
3305
3306
3307
3308
3309
3310
3311
3312
3313
3314
3315
3316
3317
3318
3319
3320
3321
3322
3323
3324
3325
3326
3327
3328
3329
3330
3331
3332
3333
3334
3335
3336
3337
3338
3339
3340
3341
3342
3343
3344
3345
3346
3347
3348
3349
3350
3351
3352
3353
3354
3355
3356
3357
3358
3359
3360
3361
3362
3363
3364
3365
3366
3367
3368
3369
3370
3371
3372
3373
3374
3375
3376
3377
3378
3379
3380
3381
3382
3383
3384
3385
3386
3387
3388
3389
3390
3391
3392
3393
3394
3395
3396
3397
3398
3399
3400
3401
3402
3403
3404
3405
3406
3407
3408
3409
3410
3411
3412
3413
3414
3415
3416
3417
3418
3419
3420
3421
3422
3423
3424
3425
3426
3427
3428
3429
3430
3431
3432
3433
3434
3435
3436
3437
3438
3439
3440
3441
3442
3443
3444
3445
3446
3447
3448
3449
3450
3451
3452
3453
3454
3455
3456
3457
3458
3459
3460
3461
3462
3463
3464
3465
3466
3467
3468
3469
3470
3471
3472
3473
3474
3475
3476
3477
3478
3479
3480
3481
3482
3483
3484
3485
3486
3487
3488
3489
3490
3491
3492
3493
3494
3495
3496
3497
3498
3499
3500
3501
3502
3503
3504
3505
3506
3507
3508
3509
3510
3511
3512
3513
3514
3515
3516
3517
3518
3519
3520
3521
3522
3523
3524
3525
3526
3527
3528
3529
3530
3531
3532
3533
3534
3535
3536
3537
3538
3539
3540
3541
3542
3543
3544
3545
3546
3547
3548
3549
3550
3551
3552
3553
3554
3555
3556
3557
3558
3559
3560
3561
3562
3563
3564
3565
3566
3567
3568
3569
3570
3571
3572
3573
3574
3575
3576
3577
3578
3579
3580
3581
3582
3583
3584
3585
3586
3587
3588
3589
3590
3591
3592
3593
3594
3595
3596
3597
3598
3599
3600
3601
3602
3603
3604
3605
3606
3607
3608
3609
3610
3611
3612
3613
3614
3615
3616
3617
3618
3619
3620
3621
3622
3623
3624
3625
3626
3627
3628
3629
3630
3631
3632
3633
3634
3635
3636
3637
3638
3639
3640
3641
3642
3643
3644
3645
3646
3647
3648
3649
3650
3651
3652
3653
3654
3655
3656
3657
3658
3659
3660
3661
3662
3663
3664
3665
3666
3667
3668
3669
3670
3671
3672
3673
3674
3675
3676
3677
3678
3679
3680
3681
3682
3683
3684
3685
3686
3687
3688
3689
3690
3691
3692
3693
3694
3695
3696
3697
3698
3699
3700
3701
3702
3703
3704
3705
3706
3707
3708
3709
3710
3711
3712
3713
3714
3715
3716
3717
3718
3719
3720
3721
3722
3723
3724
3725
3726
3727
3728
3729
3730
3731
3732
3733
3734
3735
3736
3737
3738
3739
3740
3741
3742
3743
3744
3745
3746
3747
3748
3749
3750
3751
3752
3753
3754
3755
3756
3757
3758
3759
3760
3761
3762
3763
3764
3765
3766
3767
3768
3769
3770
3771
3772
3773
3774
3775
3776
3777
3778
3779
3780
3781
3782
3783
3784
3785
3786
3787
3788
3789
3790
3791
3792
3793
3794
3795
3796
3797
3798
3799
3800
3801
3802
3803
3804
3805
3806
3807
3808
3809
3810
3811
3812
3813
3814
3815
3816
3817
3818
3819
3820
3821
3822
3823
3824
3825
3826
3827
3828
3829
3830
3831
3832
3833
3834
3835
3836
3837
3838
3839
3840
3841
3842
3843
3844
3845
3846
3847
3848
3849
3850
3851
3852
3853
3854
3855
3856
3857
3858
3859
3860
3861
3862
3863
3864
3865
3866
3867
3868
3869
3870
3871
3872
3873
3874
3875
3876
3877
3878
3879
3880
3881
3882
3883
3884
3885
3886
3887
3888
3889
3890
3891
3892
3893
3894
3895
3896
3897
3898
3899
3900
3901
3902
3903
3904
3905
3906
3907
3908
3909
3910
3911
3912
3913
3914
3915
3916
3917
3918
3919
3920
3921
3922
3923
3924
3925
3926
3927
3928
3929
3930
3931
3932
3933
3934
3935
3936
3937
3938
3939
3940
3941
3942
3943
3944
3945
3946
3947
3948
3949
3950
3951
3952
3953
3954
3955
3956
3957
3958
3959
3960
3961
3962
3963
3964
3965
3966
3967
3968
3969
3970
3971
3972
3973
3974
3975
3976
3977
3978
3979
3980
3981
3982
3983
3984
3985
3986
3987
3988
3989
3990
3991
3992
3993
3994
3995
3996
3997
3998
3999
4000
4001
4002
4003
4004
4005
4006
4007
4008
4009
4010
4011
4012
4013
4014
4015
4016
4017
4018
4019
4020
4021
4022
4023
4024
4025
4026
4027
4028
4029
4030
4031
4032
4033
4034
4035
4036
4037
4038
4039
4040
4041
4042
4043
4044
4045
4046
4047
4048
4049
4050
4051
4052
4053
4054
4055
4056
4057
4058
4059
4060
4061
4062
4063
4064
4065
4066
4067
4068
4069
4070
4071
4072
4073
4074
4075
4076
4077
4078
4079
4080
4081
4082
4083
4084
4085
4086
4087
4088
4089
4090
4091
4092
4093
4094
4095
4096
4097
4098
4099
4100
4101
4102
4103
4104
4105
4106
4107
4108
4109
4110
4111
4112
4113
4114
4115
4116
4117
4118
4119
4120
4121
4122
4123
4124
4125
4126
4127
4128
4129
4130
4131
4132
4133
4134
4135
4136
4137
4138
4139
4140
4141
4142
4143
4144
4145
4146
4147
4148
4149
4150
4151
4152
4153
4154
4155
4156
4157
4158
4159
4160
4161
4162
4163
4164
4165
4166
4167
4168
4169
4170
4171
4172
4173
4174
4175
4176
4177
4178
4179
4180
4181
4182
4183
4184
4185
4186
4187
4188
4189
4190
4191
4192
4193
4194
4195
4196
4197
4198
4199
4200
4201
4202
4203
4204
4205
4206
4207
4208
4209
4210
4211
4212
4213
4214
4215
4216
4217
4218
4219
4220
4221
4222
4223
4224
4225
4226
4227
4228
4229
4230
4231
4232
4233
4234
4235
4236
4237
4238
4239
4240
4241
4242
4243
4244
4245
4246
4247
4248
4249
4250
4251
4252
4253
4254
4255
4256
4257
4258
4259
4260
4261
4262
4263
4264
4265
4266
4267
4268
4269
4270
4271
4272
4273
4274
4275
4276
4277
4278
4279
4280
4281
4282
4283
4284
4285
4286
4287
4288
4289
4290
4291
4292
4293
4294
4295
4296
4297
4298
4299
4300
4301
4302
4303
4304
4305
4306
4307
4308
4309
4310
4311
4312
4313
4314
4315
4316
4317
4318
4319
4320
4321
4322
4323
4324
4325
4326
4327
4328
4329
4330
4331
4332
4333
4334
4335
4336
4337
4338
4339
4340
4341
4342
4343
4344
4345
4346
4347
4348
4349
4350
4351
4352
4353
4354
4355
4356
4357
4358
4359
4360
4361
4362
4363
4364
4365
4366
4367
4368
4369
4370
4371
4372
4373
4374
4375
4376
4377
4378
4379
4380
4381
4382
4383
4384
4385
4386
4387
4388
4389
4390
4391
4392
4393
4394
4395
4396
4397
4398
4399
4400
4401
4402
4403
4404
4405
4406
4407
4408
4409
4410
4411
4412
4413
4414
4415
4416
4417
4418
4419
4420
4421
4422
4423
4424
4425
4426
4427
4428
4429
4430
4431
4432
4433
4434
4435
4436
4437
4438
4439
4440
4441
4442
4443
4444
4445
4446
4447
4448
4449
4450
4451
4452
4453
4454
4455
4456
4457
4458
4459
4460
4461
4462
4463
4464
4465
4466
4467
4468
4469
4470
4471
4472
4473
4474
4475
4476
4477
4478
4479
4480
4481
4482
4483
4484
4485
4486
4487
4488
4489
4490
4491
4492
4493
4494
4495
4496
4497
4498
4499
4500
4501
4502
4503
4504
4505
4506
4507
4508
4509
4510
4511
4512
4513
4514
4515
4516
4517
4518
4519
4520
4521
4522
4523
4524
4525
4526
4527
4528
4529
4530
4531
4532
4533
4534
4535
4536
4537
4538
4539
4540
4541
4542
4543
4544
4545
4546
4547
4548
4549
4550
4551
4552
4553
4554
4555
4556
4557
4558
4559
4560
4561
4562
4563
4564
4565
4566
4567
4568
4569
4570
4571
4572
4573
4574
4575
4576
4577
4578
4579
4580
4581
4582
4583
4584
4585
4586
4587
4588
4589
4590
4591
4592
4593
4594
4595
4596
4597
4598
4599
4600
4601
4602
4603
4604
4605
4606
4607
4608
4609
4610
4611
4612
4613
4614
4615
4616
4617
4618
4619
4620
4621
4622
4623
4624
4625
4626
4627
4628
4629
4630
4631
4632
4633
4634
4635
4636
4637
4638
4639
4640
4641
4642
4643
4644
4645
4646
4647
4648
4649
4650
4651
4652
4653
4654
4655
4656
4657
4658
4659
4660
4661
4662
4663
4664
4665
4666
4667
4668
4669
4670
4671
4672
4673
4674
4675
4676
4677
4678
4679
4680
4681
4682
4683
4684
4685
4686
4687
4688
4689
4690
4691
4692
4693
4694
4695
4696
4697
4698
4699
4700
4701
4702
4703
4704
4705
4706
4707
4708
4709
4710
4711
4712
4713
4714
4715
4716
4717
4718
4719
4720
4721
4722
4723
4724
4725
4726
4727
4728
4729
4730
4731
4732
4733
4734
4735
4736
4737
4738
4739
4740
4741
4742
4743
4744
4745
4746
4747
4748
4749
4750
4751
4752
4753
4754
4755
4756
4757
4758
4759
4760
4761
4762
4763
4764
4765
4766
4767
4768
4769
4770
4771
4772
4773
4774
4775
4776
4777
4778
4779
4780
4781
4782
4783
4784
4785
4786
4787
4788
4789
4790
4791
4792
4793
4794
4795
4796
4797
4798
4799
4800
4801
4802
4803
4804
4805
4806
4807
4808
4809
4810
4811
4812
4813
4814
4815
4816
4817
4818
4819
4820
4821
4822
4823
4824
4825
4826
4827
4828
4829
4830
4831
4832
4833
4834
4835
4836
4837
4838
4839
4840
4841
4842
4843
4844
4845
4846
4847
4848
4849
4850
4851
4852
4853
4854
4855
4856
4857
4858
4859
4860
4861
4862
4863
4864
4865
4866
4867
4868
4869
4870
4871
4872
4873
4874
4875
4876
4877
4878
4879
4880
4881
4882
4883
4884
4885
4886
4887
4888
4889
4890
4891
4892
4893
4894
4895
4896
4897
4898
4899
4900
4901
4902
4903
4904
4905
4906
4907
4908
4909
4910
4911
4912
4913
4914
4915
4916
4917
4918
4919
4920
4921
4922
4923
4924
4925
4926
4927
4928
4929
4930
4931
4932
4933
4934
4935
4936
4937
4938
4939
4940
4941
4942
4943
4944
4945
4946
4947
4948
4949
4950
4951
4952
4953
4954
4955
4956
4957
4958
4959
4960
4961
4962
4963
4964
4965
4966
4967
4968
4969
4970
4971
4972
4973
4974
4975
4976
4977
4978
4979
4980
4981
4982
4983
4984
4985
4986
4987
4988
4989
4990
4991
4992
4993
4994
4995
4996
4997
4998
4999
5000
5001
5002
5003
5004
5005
5006
5007
5008
5009
5010
5011
5012
5013
5014
5015
5016
5017
5018
5019
5020
5021
5022
5023
5024
5025
5026
5027
5028
5029
5030
5031
5032
5033
5034
5035
5036
5037
5038
5039
5040
5041
5042
5043
5044
5045
5046
5047
5048
5049
5050
5051
5052
5053
5054
5055
5056
5057
5058
5059
5060
5061
5062
5063
5064
5065
5066
5067
5068
5069
5070
5071
5072
5073
5074
5075
5076
5077
5078
5079
5080
5081
5082
5083
5084
5085
5086
5087
5088
5089
5090
5091
5092
5093
5094
5095
5096
5097
5098
5099
5100
5101
5102
5103
5104
5105
5106
5107
5108
5109
5110
5111
5112
5113
5114
5115
5116
5117
5118
5119
5120
5121
5122
5123
5124
5125
5126
5127
5128
5129
5130
5131
5132
5133
5134
5135
5136
5137
5138
5139
5140
5141
5142
5143
5144
5145
5146
5147
5148
5149
5150
5151
5152
5153
5154
5155
5156
5157
5158
5159
5160
5161
5162
5163
5164
5165
5166
5167
5168
5169
5170
5171
5172
5173
5174
5175
5176
5177
5178
5179
5180
5181
5182
5183
5184
5185
5186
5187
5188
5189
5190
5191
5192
5193
5194
5195
5196
5197
5198
5199
5200
5201
5202
5203
5204
5205
5206
5207
5208
5209
5210
5211
5212
5213
5214
5215
5216
5217
5218
5219
5220
5221
5222
5223
5224
5225
5226
5227
5228
5229
5230
5231
5232
5233
5234
5235
5236
5237
5238
5239
5240
5241
5242
5243
5244
5245
5246
5247
5248
5249
5250
5251
5252
5253
5254
5255
5256
5257
5258
5259
5260
5261
5262
5263
5264
5265
5266
5267
5268
5269
5270
5271
5272
5273
5274
5275
5276
5277
5278
5279
5280
5281
5282
5283
5284
5285
5286
5287
5288
5289
5290
5291
5292
5293
5294
5295
5296
5297
5298
5299
5300
5301
5302
5303
5304
5305
5306
5307
5308
5309
5310
5311
5312
5313
5314
5315
5316
5317
5318
5319
5320
5321
5322
5323
5324
5325
5326
5327
5328
5329
5330
5331
5332
5333
5334
5335
5336
5337
5338
5339
5340
5341
5342
5343
5344
5345
5346
5347
5348
5349
5350
5351
5352
5353
5354
5355
5356
5357
5358
5359
5360
5361
5362
5363
5364
5365
5366
5367
5368
5369
5370
5371
5372
5373
5374
5375
5376
5377
5378
5379
5380
5381
5382
5383
5384
5385
5386
5387
5388
5389
5390
5391
5392
5393
5394
5395
5396
5397
5398
5399
5400
5401
5402
5403
5404
5405
5406
5407
5408
5409
5410
5411
5412
5413
5414
5415
5416
5417
5418
5419
5420
5421
5422
5423
5424
5425
5426
5427
5428
5429
5430
5431
5432
5433
5434
5435
5436
5437
5438
5439
5440
5441
5442
5443
5444
5445
5446
5447
5448
5449
5450
5451
5452
5453
5454
5455
5456
5457
5458
5459
5460
5461
5462
5463
5464
5465
5466
5467
5468
5469
5470
5471
5472
5473
5474
5475
5476
5477
5478
5479
5480
5481
5482
5483
5484
5485
5486
5487
5488
5489
5490
5491
5492
5493
5494
5495
5496
5497
5498
5499
5500
5501
5502
5503
5504
5505
5506
5507
5508
5509
5510
5511
5512
5513
5514
5515
5516
5517
5518
5519
5520
5521
5522
5523
5524
5525
5526
5527
5528
5529
5530
5531
5532
5533
5534
5535
5536
5537
5538
5539
5540
5541
5542
5543
5544
5545
5546
5547
5548
5549
5550
5551
5552
5553
5554
5555
5556
5557
5558
5559
5560
5561
5562
5563
5564
5565
5566
5567
5568
5569
5570
5571
5572
5573
5574
5575
5576
5577
5578
5579
5580
5581
5582
5583
5584
5585
5586
5587
5588
5589
5590
5591
5592
5593
5594
5595
5596
5597
5598
5599
5600
5601
5602
5603
5604
5605
5606
5607
5608
5609
5610
5611
5612
5613
5614
5615
5616
5617
5618
5619
5620
5621
5622
5623
5624
5625
5626
5627
5628
5629
5630
5631
5632
5633
5634
5635
5636
5637
5638
5639
5640
5641
5642
5643
5644
5645
5646
5647
5648
5649
5650
5651
5652
5653
5654
5655
5656
5657
5658
5659
5660
5661
5662
5663
5664
5665
5666
5667
5668
5669
5670
5671
5672
5673
5674
5675
5676
5677
5678
5679
5680
5681
5682
5683
5684
5685
5686
5687
5688
5689
5690
5691
5692
5693
5694
5695
5696
5697
5698
5699
5700
5701
5702
5703
5704
5705
5706
5707
5708
5709
5710
5711
5712
5713
5714
5715
5716
5717
5718
5719
5720
5721
5722
5723
5724
5725
5726
5727
5728
5729
5730
5731
5732
5733
5734
5735
5736
5737
5738
5739
5740
5741
5742
5743
5744
5745
5746
5747
5748
5749
5750
5751
5752
5753
5754
5755
5756
5757
5758
5759
5760
5761
5762
5763
5764
5765
5766
5767
5768
5769
5770
5771
5772
5773
5774
5775
5776
5777
5778
5779
5780
5781
5782
5783
5784
5785
5786
5787
5788
5789
5790
5791
5792
5793
5794
5795
5796
5797
5798
5799
5800
5801
5802
5803
5804
5805
5806
5807
5808
5809
5810
5811
5812
5813
5814
5815
5816
5817
5818
5819
5820
5821
5822
5823
5824
5825
5826
5827
5828
5829
5830
5831
5832
5833
5834
5835
5836
5837
5838
5839
5840
5841
5842
5843
5844
5845
5846
5847
5848
5849
5850
5851
5852
5853
5854
5855
5856
5857
5858
5859
5860
5861
5862
5863
5864
5865
5866
5867
5868
5869
5870
5871
5872
5873
5874
5875
5876
5877
5878
5879
5880
5881
5882
5883
5884
5885
5886
5887
5888
5889
5890
5891
5892
5893
5894
5895
5896
5897
5898
5899
5900
5901
5902
5903
5904
5905
5906
5907
5908
5909
5910
5911
5912
5913
5914
5915
5916
5917
5918
5919
5920
5921
5922
5923
5924
5925
5926
5927
5928
5929
5930
5931
5932
5933
5934
5935
5936
5937
5938
5939
5940
5941
5942
5943
5944
5945
5946
5947
5948
5949
5950
5951
5952
5953
5954
5955
5956
5957
5958
5959
5960
5961
5962
5963
5964
5965
5966
5967
5968
5969
5970
5971
5972
5973
5974
5975
5976
5977
5978
5979
5980
5981
5982
5983
5984
5985
5986
5987
5988
5989
5990
5991
5992
5993
5994
5995
5996
5997
5998
5999
6000
6001
6002
6003
6004
6005
6006
6007
6008
6009
6010
6011
6012
6013
6014
6015
6016
6017
6018
6019
6020
6021
6022
6023
6024
6025
6026
6027
6028
6029
6030
6031
6032
6033
6034
6035
6036
6037
6038
6039
6040
6041
6042
6043
6044
6045
6046
6047
6048
6049
6050
6051
6052
6053
6054
6055
6056
6057
6058
6059
6060
6061
6062
6063
6064
6065
6066
6067
6068
6069
6070
6071
6072
6073
6074
6075
6076
6077
6078
6079
6080
6081
6082
6083
6084
6085
6086
6087
6088
6089
6090
6091
6092
6093
6094
6095
6096
6097
6098
6099
6100
6101
6102
6103
6104
6105
6106
6107
6108
6109
6110
6111
6112
6113
6114
6115
6116
6117
6118
6119
6120
6121
6122
6123
6124
6125
6126
6127
6128
6129
6130
6131
6132
6133
6134
6135
6136
6137
6138
6139
6140
6141
6142
6143
6144
6145
6146
6147
6148
6149
6150
6151
6152
6153
6154
6155
6156
6157
6158
6159
6160
6161
6162
6163
6164
6165
6166
6167
6168
6169
6170
6171
6172
6173
6174
6175
6176
6177
6178
6179
6180
6181
6182
6183
6184
6185
6186
6187
6188
6189
6190
6191
6192
6193
6194
6195
6196
6197
6198
6199
6200
6201
6202
6203
6204
6205
6206
6207
6208
6209
6210
6211
6212
6213
6214
6215
6216
6217
6218
6219
6220
6221
6222
6223
6224
6225
6226
6227
6228
6229
6230
6231
6232
6233
6234
6235
6236
6237
6238
6239
6240
6241
6242
6243
6244
6245
6246
6247
6248
6249
6250
6251
6252
6253
6254
6255
6256
6257
6258
6259
6260
6261
6262
6263
6264
6265
6266
6267
6268
6269
6270
6271
6272
6273
6274
6275
6276
6277
6278
6279
6280
6281
6282
6283
6284
6285
6286
6287
6288
6289
6290
6291
6292
6293
6294
6295
6296
6297
6298
6299
6300
6301
6302
6303
6304
6305
6306
6307
6308
6309
6310
6311
6312
6313
6314
6315
6316
6317
6318
6319
6320
6321
6322
6323
6324
6325
6326
6327
6328
6329
6330
6331
6332
6333
6334
6335
6336
6337
6338
6339
6340
6341
6342
6343
6344
6345
6346
6347
6348
6349
6350
6351
6352
6353
6354
6355
6356
6357
6358
6359
6360
6361
6362
6363
6364
6365
6366
6367
6368
6369
6370
6371
6372
6373
6374
6375
6376
6377
6378
6379
6380
6381
6382
6383
6384
6385
6386
6387
6388
6389
6390
6391
6392
6393
6394
6395
6396
6397
6398
6399
6400
6401
6402
6403
6404
6405
6406
6407
6408
6409
6410
6411
6412
6413
6414
6415
6416
6417
6418
6419
6420
6421
6422
6423
6424
6425
6426
6427
6428
6429
6430
6431
6432
6433
6434
6435
6436
6437
6438
6439
6440
6441
6442
6443
6444
6445
6446
6447
6448
6449
6450
6451
6452
6453
6454
6455
6456
6457
6458
6459
6460
6461
6462
6463
6464
6465
6466
6467
6468
6469
6470
6471
6472
6473
6474
6475
6476
6477
6478
6479
6480
6481
6482
6483
6484
6485
6486
6487
6488
6489
6490
6491
6492
6493
6494
6495
6496
6497
6498
6499
6500
6501
6502
6503
6504
6505
6506
6507
6508
6509
6510
6511
6512
6513
6514
6515
6516
6517
6518
6519
6520
6521
6522
6523
6524
6525
6526
6527
6528
6529
6530
6531
6532
6533
6534
6535
6536
6537
6538
6539
6540
6541
6542
6543
6544
6545
6546
6547
6548
6549
6550
6551
6552
6553
6554
6555
6556
6557
6558
6559
6560
6561
6562
6563
6564
6565
6566
6567
6568
6569
6570
6571
6572
6573
6574
6575
6576
6577
6578
6579
6580
6581
6582
6583
6584
6585
6586
6587
6588
6589
6590
6591
6592
6593
6594
6595
6596
6597
6598
6599
6600
6601
6602
6603
6604
6605
6606
6607
6608
6609
6610
6611
6612
6613
6614
6615
6616
6617
6618
6619
6620
6621
6622
6623
6624
6625
6626
6627
6628
6629
6630
6631
6632
6633
6634
6635
6636
6637
6638
6639
6640
6641
6642
6643
6644
6645
6646
6647
6648
6649
6650
6651
6652
6653
6654
6655
6656
6657
6658
6659
6660
6661
6662
6663
6664
6665
6666
6667
6668
6669
6670
6671
6672
6673
6674
6675
6676
6677
6678
6679
6680
6681
6682
6683
6684
6685
6686
6687
6688
6689
6690
6691
6692
6693
6694
6695
6696
6697
6698
6699
6700
6701
6702
6703
6704
6705
6706
6707
6708
6709
6710
6711
6712
6713
6714
6715
6716
6717
6718
6719
6720
6721
6722
6723
6724
6725
6726
6727
6728
6729
6730
6731
6732
6733
6734
6735
6736
6737
6738
6739
6740
6741
6742
6743
6744
6745
6746
6747
6748
6749
6750
6751
6752
6753
6754
6755
6756
6757
6758
6759
6760
6761
6762
6763
6764
6765
6766
6767
6768
6769
6770
6771
6772
6773
6774
6775
6776
6777
6778
6779
6780
6781
6782
6783
6784
6785
6786
6787
6788
6789
6790
6791
6792
6793
6794
6795
6796
6797
6798
6799
6800
6801
6802
6803
6804
6805
6806
6807
6808
6809
6810
6811
6812
6813
6814
6815
6816
6817
6818
6819
6820
6821
6822
6823
6824
6825
6826
6827
6828
6829
6830
6831
6832
6833
6834
6835
6836
6837
6838
6839
6840
6841
6842
6843
6844
6845
6846
6847
6848
6849
6850
6851
6852
6853
6854
6855
6856
6857
6858
6859
6860
6861
6862
6863
6864
6865
6866
6867
6868
6869
6870
6871
6872
6873
6874
6875
6876
6877
6878
6879
6880
6881
6882
6883
6884
6885
6886
6887
6888
6889
6890
6891
6892
6893
6894
6895
6896
6897
6898
6899
6900
6901
6902
6903
6904
6905
6906
6907
6908
6909
6910
6911
6912
6913
6914
6915
6916
6917
6918
6919
6920
6921
6922
6923
6924
6925
6926
6927
6928
6929
6930
6931
6932
6933
6934
6935
6936
6937
6938
6939
6940
6941
6942
6943
6944
6945
6946
6947
6948
6949
6950
6951
6952
6953
6954
6955
6956
6957
6958
6959
6960
6961
6962
6963
6964
6965
6966
6967
6968
6969
6970
6971
6972
6973
6974
6975
6976
6977
6978
6979
6980
6981
6982
6983
6984
6985
6986
6987
6988
6989
6990
6991
6992
6993
6994
6995
6996
6997
6998
6999
7000
7001
7002
7003
7004
7005
7006
7007
7008
7009
7010
7011
7012
7013
7014
7015
7016
7017
7018
7019
7020
7021
7022
7023
7024
7025
7026
7027
7028
7029
7030
7031
7032
7033
7034
7035
7036
7037
7038
7039
7040
7041
7042
7043
7044
7045
7046
7047
7048
7049
7050
7051
7052
7053
7054
7055
7056
7057
7058
7059
7060
7061
7062
7063
7064
7065
7066
7067
7068
7069
7070
7071
7072
7073
7074
7075
7076
7077
7078
7079
7080
7081
7082
7083
7084
7085
7086
7087
7088
7089
7090
7091
7092
7093
7094
7095
7096
7097
7098
7099
7100
7101
7102
7103
7104
7105
7106
7107
7108
7109
7110
7111
7112
7113
7114
7115
7116
7117
7118
7119
7120
7121
7122
7123
7124
7125
7126
7127
7128
7129
7130
7131
7132
7133
7134
7135
7136
7137
7138
7139
7140
7141
7142
7143
7144
7145
7146
7147
7148
7149
7150
7151
7152
7153
7154
7155
7156
7157
7158
7159
7160
7161
7162
7163
7164
7165
7166
7167
7168
7169
7170
7171
7172
7173
7174
7175
7176
7177
7178
7179
7180
7181
7182
7183
7184
7185
7186
7187
7188
7189
7190
7191
7192
7193
7194
7195
7196
7197
7198
7199
7200
7201
7202
7203
7204
7205
7206
7207
7208
7209
7210
7211
7212
7213
7214
7215
7216
7217
7218
7219
7220
7221
7222
7223
7224
7225
7226
7227
7228
7229
7230
7231
7232
7233
7234
7235
7236
7237
7238
7239
7240
7241
7242
7243
7244
7245
7246
7247
7248
7249
7250
7251
7252
7253
7254
7255
7256
7257
7258
7259
7260
7261
7262
7263
7264
7265
7266
7267
7268
7269
7270
7271
7272
7273
7274
7275
7276
7277
7278
7279
7280
7281
7282
7283
7284
7285
7286
7287
7288
7289
7290
7291
7292
7293
7294
7295
7296
7297
7298
7299
7300
7301
7302
7303
7304
7305
7306
7307
7308
7309
7310
7311
7312
7313
7314
7315
7316
7317
7318
7319
7320
7321
7322
7323
7324
7325
7326
7327
7328
7329
7330
7331
7332
7333
7334
7335
7336
7337
7338
7339
7340
7341
7342
7343
7344
7345
7346
7347
7348
7349
7350
7351
7352
7353
7354
7355
7356
7357
7358
7359
7360
7361
7362
7363
7364
7365
7366
7367
7368
7369
7370
7371
7372
7373
7374
7375
7376
7377
7378
7379
7380
7381
7382
7383
7384
7385
7386
7387
7388
7389
7390
7391
7392
7393
7394
7395
7396
7397
7398
7399
7400
7401
7402
7403
7404
7405
7406
7407
7408
7409
7410
7411
7412
7413
7414
7415
7416
7417
7418
7419
7420
7421
7422
7423
7424
7425
7426
7427
7428
7429
7430
7431
7432
7433
7434
7435
7436
7437
7438
7439
7440
7441
7442
7443
7444
7445
7446
7447
7448
7449
7450
7451
7452
7453
7454
7455
7456
7457
7458
7459
7460
7461
7462
7463
7464
7465
7466
7467
7468
7469
7470
7471
7472
7473
7474
7475
7476
7477
7478
7479
7480
7481
7482
7483
7484
7485
7486
7487
7488
7489
7490
7491
7492
7493
7494
7495
7496
7497
7498
7499
7500
7501
7502
7503
7504
7505
7506
7507
7508
7509
7510
7511
7512
7513
7514
7515
7516
7517
7518
7519
7520
7521
7522
7523
7524
7525
7526
7527
7528
7529
7530
7531
7532
7533
7534
7535
7536
7537
7538
7539
7540
7541
7542
7543
7544
7545
7546
7547
7548
7549
7550
7551
7552
7553
7554
7555
7556
7557
7558
7559
7560
7561
7562
7563
7564
7565
7566
7567
7568
7569
7570
7571
7572
7573
7574
7575
7576
7577
7578
7579
7580
7581
7582
7583
7584
7585
7586
7587
7588
7589
7590
7591
7592
7593
7594
7595
7596
7597
7598
7599
7600
7601
7602
7603
7604
7605
7606
7607
7608
7609
7610
7611
7612
7613
7614
7615
7616
7617
7618
7619
7620
7621
7622
7623
7624
7625
7626
7627
7628
7629
7630
7631
7632
7633
7634
7635
7636
7637
7638
7639
7640
7641
7642
7643
7644
7645
7646
7647
7648
7649
7650
7651
7652
7653
7654
7655
7656
7657
7658
7659
7660
7661
7662
7663
7664
7665
7666
7667
7668
7669
7670
7671
7672
7673
7674
7675
7676
7677
7678
7679
7680
7681
7682
7683
7684
7685
7686
7687
7688
7689
7690
7691
7692
7693
7694
7695
7696
7697
7698
7699
7700
7701
7702
7703
7704
7705
7706
7707
7708
7709
7710
7711
7712
7713
7714
7715
7716
7717
7718
7719
7720
7721
7722
7723
7724
7725
7726
7727
7728
7729
7730
7731
7732
7733
7734
7735
7736
7737
7738
7739
7740
7741
7742
7743
7744
7745
7746
7747
7748
7749
7750
7751
7752
7753
7754
7755
7756
7757
7758
7759
7760
7761
7762
7763
7764
7765
7766
7767
7768
7769
7770
7771
7772
7773
7774
7775
7776
7777
7778
7779
7780
7781
7782
7783
7784
7785
7786
7787
7788
7789
7790
7791
7792
7793
7794
7795
7796
7797
7798
7799
7800
7801
7802
7803
7804
7805
7806
7807
7808
7809
7810
7811
7812
7813
7814
7815
7816
7817
7818
7819
7820
7821
7822
7823
7824
7825
7826
7827
7828
7829
7830
7831
7832
7833
7834
7835
7836
7837
7838
7839
7840
7841
7842
7843
7844
7845
7846
7847
7848
7849
7850
7851
7852
7853
7854
7855
7856
7857
7858
7859
7860
7861
7862
7863
7864
7865
7866
7867
7868
7869
7870
7871
7872
7873
7874
7875
7876
7877
7878
7879
7880
7881
7882
7883
7884
7885
7886
7887
7888
7889
7890
7891
7892
7893
7894
7895
7896
7897
7898
7899
7900
7901
7902
7903
7904
7905
7906
7907
7908
7909
7910
7911
7912
7913
7914
7915
7916
7917
7918
7919
7920
7921
7922
7923
7924
7925
7926
7927
7928
7929
7930
7931
7932
7933
7934
7935
7936
7937
7938
7939
7940
7941
7942
7943
7944
7945
7946
7947
7948
7949
7950
7951
7952
7953
7954
7955
7956
7957
7958
7959
7960
7961
7962
7963
7964
7965
7966
7967
7968
7969
7970
7971
7972
7973
7974
7975
7976
7977
7978
7979
7980
7981
7982
7983
7984
7985
7986
7987
7988
7989
7990
7991
7992
7993
7994
7995
7996
7997
7998
7999
8000
8001
8002
8003
8004
8005
8006
8007
8008
8009
8010
8011
8012
8013
8014
8015
8016
8017
8018
8019
8020
8021
8022
8023
8024
8025
8026
8027
8028
8029
8030
8031
8032
8033
8034
8035
8036
8037
8038
8039
8040
8041
8042
8043
8044
8045
8046
8047
8048
8049
8050
8051
8052
8053
8054
8055
8056
8057
8058
8059
8060
8061
8062
8063
8064
8065
8066
8067
8068
8069
8070
8071
8072
8073
8074
8075
8076
8077
8078
8079
8080
8081
8082
8083
8084
8085
8086
8087
8088
8089
8090
8091
8092
8093
8094
8095
8096
8097
8098
8099
8100
8101
8102
8103
8104
8105
8106
8107
8108
8109
8110
8111
8112
8113
8114
8115
8116
8117
8118
8119
8120
8121
8122
8123
8124
8125
8126
8127
8128
8129
8130
8131
8132
8133
8134
8135
8136
8137
8138
8139
8140
8141
8142
8143
8144
8145
8146
8147
8148
8149
8150
8151
8152
8153
8154
8155
8156
8157
8158
8159
8160
8161
8162
8163
8164
8165
8166
8167
8168
8169
8170
8171
8172
8173
8174
8175
8176
8177
8178
8179
8180
8181
8182
8183
8184
8185
8186
8187
8188
8189
8190
8191
8192
8193
8194
8195
8196
8197
8198
8199
8200
8201
8202
8203
8204
8205
8206
8207
8208
8209
8210
8211
8212
8213
8214
8215
8216
8217
8218
8219
8220
8221
8222
8223
8224
8225
8226
8227
8228
8229
8230
8231
8232
8233
8234
8235
8236
8237
8238
8239
8240
8241
8242
8243
8244
8245
8246
8247
8248
8249
8250
8251
8252
8253
8254
8255
8256
8257
8258
8259
8260
8261
8262
8263
8264
8265
8266
8267
8268
8269
8270
8271
8272
8273
8274
8275
8276
8277
8278
8279
8280
8281
8282
8283
8284
8285
8286
8287
8288
8289
8290
8291
8292
8293
8294
8295
8296
8297
8298
8299
8300
8301
8302
8303
8304
8305
8306
8307
8308
8309
8310
8311
8312
8313
8314
8315
8316
8317
8318
8319
8320
8321
8322
8323
8324
8325
8326
8327
8328
8329
8330
8331
8332
8333
8334
8335
8336
8337
8338
8339
8340
8341
8342
8343
8344
8345
8346
8347
8348
8349
8350
8351
8352
8353
8354
8355
8356
8357
8358
8359
8360
8361
8362
8363
8364
8365
8366
8367
8368
8369
8370
8371
8372
8373
8374
8375
8376
8377
8378
8379
8380
8381
8382
8383
8384
8385
8386
8387
8388
8389
8390
8391
8392
8393
8394
8395
8396
8397
8398
8399
8400
8401
8402
8403
8404
8405
8406
8407
8408
8409
8410
8411
8412
8413
8414
8415
8416
8417
8418
8419
8420
8421
8422
8423
8424
8425
8426
8427
8428
8429
8430
8431
8432
8433
8434
8435
8436
8437
8438
8439
8440
8441
8442
8443
8444
8445
8446
8447
8448
8449
8450
8451
8452
8453
8454
8455
8456
8457
8458
8459
8460
8461
8462
8463
8464
8465
8466
8467
8468
8469
8470
8471
8472
8473
8474
8475
8476
8477
8478
8479
8480
8481
8482
8483
8484
8485
8486
8487
8488
8489
8490
8491
8492
8493
8494
8495
8496
8497
8498
8499
8500
8501
8502
8503
8504
8505
8506
8507
8508
8509
8510
8511
8512
8513
8514
8515
8516
8517
8518
8519
8520
8521
8522
8523
8524
8525
8526
8527
8528
8529
8530
8531
8532
8533
8534
8535
8536
8537
8538
8539
8540
8541
8542
8543
8544
8545
8546
8547
8548
8549
8550
8551
8552
8553
8554
8555
8556
8557
8558
8559
8560
8561
8562
8563
8564
8565
8566
8567
8568
8569
8570
8571
8572
8573
8574
8575
8576
8577
8578
8579
8580
8581
8582
8583
8584
8585
8586
8587
8588
8589
8590
8591
8592
8593
8594
8595
8596
8597
8598
8599
8600
8601
8602
8603
8604
8605
8606
8607
8608
8609
8610
8611
8612
8613
8614
8615
8616
8617
8618
8619
8620
8621
8622
8623
8624
8625
8626
8627
8628
8629
8630
8631
8632
8633
8634
8635
8636
8637
8638
8639
8640
8641
8642
8643
8644
8645
8646
8647
8648
8649
8650
8651
8652
8653
8654
8655
8656
8657
8658
8659
8660
8661
8662
8663
8664
8665
8666
8667
8668
8669
8670
8671
8672
8673
8674
8675
8676
8677
8678
8679
8680
8681
8682
8683
8684
8685
8686
8687
8688
8689
8690
8691
8692
8693
8694
8695
8696
8697
8698
8699
8700
8701
8702
8703
8704
8705
8706
8707
8708
8709
8710
8711
8712
8713
8714
8715
8716
8717
8718
8719
8720
8721
8722
8723
8724
8725
8726
8727
8728
8729
8730
8731
8732
8733
8734
8735
8736
8737
8738
8739
8740
8741
8742
8743
8744
8745
8746
8747
8748
8749
8750
8751
8752
8753
8754
8755
8756
8757
8758
8759
8760
8761
8762
8763
8764
8765
8766
8767
8768
8769
8770
8771
8772
8773
8774
8775
8776
8777
8778
8779
8780
8781
8782
8783
8784
8785
8786
8787
8788
8789
8790
8791
8792
8793
8794
8795
8796
8797
8798
8799
8800
8801
8802
8803
8804
8805
8806
8807
8808
8809
8810
8811
8812
8813
8814
8815
8816
8817
8818
8819
8820
8821
8822
8823
8824
8825
8826
8827
8828
8829
8830
8831
8832
8833
8834
8835
8836
8837
8838
8839
8840
8841
8842
8843
8844
8845
8846
8847
8848
8849
8850
8851
8852
8853
8854
8855
8856
8857
8858
8859
8860
8861
8862
8863
8864
8865
8866
8867
8868
8869
8870
8871
8872
8873
8874
8875
8876
8877
8878
8879
8880
8881
8882
8883
8884
8885
8886
8887
8888
8889
8890
8891
8892
8893
8894
8895
8896
8897
8898
8899
8900
8901
8902
8903
8904
8905
8906
8907
8908
8909
8910
8911
8912
8913
8914
8915
8916
8917
8918
8919
8920
8921
8922
8923
8924
8925
8926
8927
8928
8929
8930
8931
8932
8933
8934
8935
8936
8937
8938
8939
8940
8941
8942
8943
8944
8945
8946
8947
8948
8949
8950
8951
8952
8953
8954
8955
8956
8957
8958
8959
8960
8961
8962
8963
8964
8965
8966
8967
8968
8969
8970
8971
8972
8973
8974
8975
8976
8977
8978
8979
8980
8981
8982
8983
8984
8985
8986
8987
8988
8989
8990
8991
8992
8993
8994
8995
8996
8997
8998
8999
9000
9001
9002
9003
9004
9005
9006
9007
9008
9009
9010
9011
9012
9013
9014
9015
9016
9017
9018
9019
9020
9021
9022
9023
9024
9025
9026
9027
9028
9029
9030
9031
9032
9033
9034
9035
9036
9037
9038
9039
9040
9041
9042
9043
9044
9045
9046
9047
9048
9049
9050
9051
9052
9053
9054
9055
9056
9057
9058
9059
9060
9061
9062
9063
9064
9065
9066
9067
9068
9069
9070
9071
9072
9073
9074
9075
9076
9077
9078
9079
9080
9081
9082
9083
9084
9085
9086
9087
9088
9089
9090
9091
9092
9093
9094
9095
9096
9097
9098
9099
9100
9101
9102
9103
9104
9105
9106
9107
9108
9109
9110
9111
9112
9113
9114
9115
9116
9117
9118
9119
9120
9121
9122
9123
9124
9125
9126
9127
9128
9129
9130
9131
9132
9133
9134
9135
9136
9137
9138
9139
9140
9141
9142
9143
9144
9145
9146
9147
9148
9149
9150
9151
9152
9153
9154
9155
9156
9157
9158
9159
9160
9161
9162
9163
9164
9165
9166
9167
9168
9169
9170
9171
9172
9173
9174
9175
9176
9177
9178
9179
9180
9181
9182
9183
9184
9185
9186
9187
9188
9189
9190
9191
9192
9193
9194
9195
9196
9197
9198
9199
9200
9201
9202
9203
9204
9205
9206
9207
9208
9209
9210
9211
9212
9213
9214
9215
9216
9217
9218
9219
9220
9221
9222
9223
9224
9225
9226
9227
9228
9229
9230
9231
9232
9233
9234
9235
9236
9237
9238
9239
9240
9241
9242
9243
9244
9245
9246
9247
9248
9249
9250
9251
9252
9253
9254
9255
9256
9257
9258
9259
9260
9261
9262
9263
9264
9265
9266
9267
9268
9269
9270
9271
9272
9273
9274
9275
9276
9277
9278
9279
9280
9281
9282
9283
9284
9285
9286
9287
9288
|
<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en">
<head>
<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
<title>
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Believe You Me!, by Nina Wilcox Putnam.
</title>
<style type="text/css">
body {
margin-left: 10%;
margin-right: 10%;
}
h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {
text-align: center; /* all headings centered */
clear: both;
}
p {
margin-top: .75em;
text-align: justify;
margin-bottom: .75em;
}
div.centered {text-align: center;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 1 */
div.centered table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: left;} /* work around for IE centering with CSS problem part 2 */
hr {
width: 33%;
margin-top: 2em;
margin-bottom: 2em;
margin-left: auto;
margin-right: auto;
clear: both;
color: #A9A9A9;
}
.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */
/* visibility: hidden; */
position: absolute;
left: 92%;
font-size: smaller;
text-align: right;
color: #A9A9A9;
font-weight: normal; font-variant: normal;
font-style: normal; letter-spacing: normal;
} /* page numbers */
.blockquot {
margin-left: 5%;
margin-right: 10%;
}
.bbox {border: solid 1px;
}
.center {text-align: center;}
.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;}
.author {text-align: right; margin-right: 5%;}
.centerbox { width: 20%; /* heading box */
margin: 0 auto;
text-align: center;
padding: 1em;
}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<pre>
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Believe You Me!, by Nina Wilcox Putnam
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Believe You Me!
Author: Nina Wilcox Putnam
Release Date: September 14, 2010 [EBook #33728]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BELIEVE YOU ME! ***
Produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.fadedpage.net
</pre>
<h1>BELIEVE<br />
YOU ME!</h1>
<h2>NINA WILCOX PUTNAM</h2>
<p class="center">AUTHOR OF "ADAM'S GARDEN," "THE IMPOSSIBLE
BOY," ETC., ETC.<br /><br />
NEW YORK<br />
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY<br /><br />
COPYRIGHT, 1919,<br />
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY<br />
COPYRIGHT, 1919, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY<br />
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p>
<p> <br /></p>
<div class="centerbox bbox">
TO<br />
R. J. S.</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h3>CONTENTS</h3>
<div class="centered">
<table border="0" cellpadding="4" width="50%" cellspacing="0" summary="CONTENTS">
<tr><td align="left"> </td><td align="left">CHAPTER</td><td align="right">PAGE</td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">I</td><td align="left">Ladies Enlist</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_11'>11</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">II</td><td align="left">Pro Bonehead Publico</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_66'>66</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">III</td><td align="left">Holy Smokes!</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_125'>125</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">IV</td><td align="left">Anything Once</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_156'>156</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">V</td><td align="left">Now is the Time</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_202'>202</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="right">VI</td><td align="left">The Glad Hand</td><td align="right"><a href='#Page_244'>244</a></td></tr>
</table></div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p>
<h2><br /><br /><a name="BELIEVE_YOU_ME" id="BELIEVE_YOU_ME"></a>BELIEVE YOU ME!<br /><br /></h2>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2>I</h2>
<h2>LADIES ENLIST</h2>
<h3>I</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">I wasn't</span> going to make no statement about
this here affair; and I wouldn't even yet, only
for our publicity man. The day the story
leaked he called me up in the A. M., which is
the B. C. of the daytime, and woke me out of
the first perfectly good sleep I'd had since Jim
pulled that stunt and floored me so.</p>
<p>First off, I wouldn't answer the phone; but
Musette stood by me with it in her hand and
just made me.</p>
<p>"For my sake, mademoiselle!" says she, just
like she used to in our act on the big time, which
we played before I got into the dancing game.
"For my sake, mademoiselle," she says, "do
not refuse to talk with the publicity man!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p><p>Well, when I heard who it was I seen some
sense in what she says; so I set up amid my
black-and-white-check bed, which—believe you
me—is as up to date as my latest drawing-room
dance. And I grabbed off the phone.</p>
<p>"Yes," says I in a fainting voice; "this is
Miss La Tour. What is it, please? I'm far
from well."</p>
<p>"Cut out that stuff, Mary!" says a male
voice. "This is Roscoe. I want you to give
out a statement about you and Jim splitting
up."</p>
<p>"I <i>won't!"</i> says I, very sharp. "Whatter
yer think I am?" I says. "That's nobody's
business but our own!"</p>
<p>"Oh, ain't it, though?" says Roscoe, very
sarcastic. "The biggest parlor-dancing outfit
in America busts up and you can't be seen,
even, for two whole days! The stage at the
Royal ain't notified that your piece is called
off; the De-Luxe Hotel don't get no notice
that you ain't going to appear; and all the info'
I could get when I called up your flat is that
you was gone out!"</p>
<p>"And so I was!" says I, indignant.</p>
<p>"Then I call up Jim's hotel and they say
he's gone!" shouted Roscoe. "Hell!" says he,
forgetting that me and the telephone operator<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>
both was ladies. "Hell! What kind of way
is that to treat a guy you're paying three thou.
a year to for getting your picture in the paper
every time you sneeze?"</p>
<p>I didn't have any comeback about that, for
there was certainly some truth in what he says.
But I wasn't to be put down so easy.</p>
<p>"I guess I know my business, Ros," I says,
sharp, "or I wouldn't be living in a swell flat
on the Drive, all fixed up like a furniture shop,
with a limousine and two fool dogs, and earned
every cent of it myself, and no one can say a
word against me, if I didn't know my own
business. So there!"</p>
<p>"Looka here, Mary," says Roscoe. "There's
going to be a lot of talk up and down the Rialto
if you don't come across with some explanation.
I'm comin' right up to get it."</p>
<p>"No, you don't," I says, for I hadn't had my
facial massage in three days, and, after all,
Roscoe is a man, even if press agents ain't exactly
human. "No, you don't, Ros!" I says.
"If I gotter make some statement, I'll write
the dope myself and you can fix it up after—see?
It's a big story, but delicate, and I'm
going to have no misunderstanding over it."</p>
<p>"All right, Mary," says Ros. "But you get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>
the stuff ready for the morning papers. I'll
be up for it."</p>
<p>Then he hung up and I knew I had to come
across. Besides, Ma come in just then; and
while I may boss my press agent, and even
sometimes my partner and Musette and the
two dogs, Ma sorter gets my goat. Ma had on
a elegant rose-silk negligee I give her; and as
usual, she had it ruined by tying a big gingham
apron over it, which made her look the size of
a house, but sort of comforting. She stopped
by the bed and set both her hands on her lips—the
way she does when she don't mean to
be answered back.</p>
<p>"Now, Mary Gilligan, you get right up and
wash your teeth!" says Ma, "and do your three
handsprings and other exercises, decent and
proper; and then eat the breakfast I got
cooked for you."</p>
<p>Funny thing, but Ma ain't got a mite of
dramatic sense. I just can't understand it,
after her having been with the circus so long
on the trapeze, until she got too heavy after
I come; and since then in the wardrobe-end of
the theater, and all. I ain't never been able
to break her in to none of the refinements of
life, either, and she will go into the kitchen for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>
all I say; and some day I just know she'll call
me Gilligan in public. And a nice laugh
that'll get!</p>
<p>But, anyhow, I usually do what she says,
because Ma is a fine trainer; and—believe you
me—I wouldn't be able to hold on to Jim's
neck and swing out straight twenty times
round, like I do—or did—only for her and her
keeping me on the job like she's done. The
only other trouble with Ma is, she can't seem
to properly understand that it's my artistic
temperament which has brought in the cash—that
and some good looks, and me realizing
that this refined parlor-dancing stuff would go
over big. Of course Jim's being able to wear
a dress suit like he'd been born in it has helped
some, even aside from being such a fine partner;
which brings me back, as they say, to the
tale.</p>
<p>Well, I done my exercise, and so forth, and
then I had Musette bring up the sofa, a elegant
gilt one—for we got what Ma calls Looie-the-Head-Waiter
stuff in our parlor—to the
window, so's I could lay and look dreamily
out over the autos on the Drive to the ships
in the river; you know—the German ships
which have been taking out their naturalization<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>
papers, or something. And, as I lay there
thinking, I come to the conclusion that if I told
about the split I better tell all, including my
own enlistment.</p>
<p>Oh, how well I can now understand why
many men enlist, having been through it all
myself! And how then they long to get out,
and can't, and realize that they was boobs!
And how they learn that they weren't boobs
after all, once they got used to it! Do you
get me?</p>
<p>Well, anyways, I decided to tell the whole
story, which, of course, begun at Ruby Roselle's
party.</p>
<p>I think I don't hardly need to state that I
don't generally go with that Roselle crowd.
No acrobatic dancer could and keep her health.
And—believe you me—every drawing-room
dance act that is worth a thousand dollars a
week has acrobatics, and good sound acrobatics,
as its base. Well! As far as Ruby Roselle
and her crowd is concerned, far be it from
me to pass any remarks. But any one in the
theatrical line will tell you that a girl which
has made a reputation only on the color of her
hair and is not averse to tights don't have to
lead the rigid life of a first-class A-1 dancer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>
leaving out all judgments as to character,
which are usually wrong anyways.</p>
<p>But, having said that much, I will only add
that I have never gone out a lot, and seldom
without Ma. And while champagne is not exactly
a stranger to me, owing to Jim and me
always having to have it served with our dinner
at the Ritz each night—which any one with
sense knows is all publicity stuff and we never
drink it—still, I'm not in favor of champagne
parties, which they generally end in trouble;
and this one of Ruby's was no exception.</p>
<p>Indeed, I wouldn't of gone in the first place
only for us unfortunately being on the same
bill at the opening of the Superba Roof, which,
of course, being the big midnight show of the
year, and the rest of the leads all having accepted,
and Ruby being in so strong with the
management, it would of been bad business
policy to refuse.</p>
<p>When I pointed this out to Jim he couldn't
see it at first, owing to me never having gone
on such parties; and nobody can say any different,
with truth. But the Superba contract
was the biggest thing we had got yet. And,
coming on top of the twenty minutes in Give
Us a Kiss, the twenty minutes at the De-Luxe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>
Hotel, the net profs. was pretty fair. So, for
once, we accepted an invite to one of Ruby's
famous blow-outs.</p>
<p>Ruby Roselle's house was something wonderful,
but not to my taste, there being too
much in it, besides smelling of cologne and incense,
which, from her singing Overseas in
red-white-and-blue tights, was more or less to
be expected. Also, the clothes on her and the
other girls was too elaborate. My simple little
real lace, and my hair, which Musette always
does so it looks like I done it myself,
made them seem like a Hippodrome production
alongside of a play by this foreigner, Ib-sen—do
you get me? I was proud of this;
for—believe you me—getting refinement
means work, just like any other achievement,
and I had modeled myself on Mrs. Pieter van
Norden for years, than whom there is surely
no one more refined by reputation, though I
had never seen her. I could see Jim felt the
same about all this, and we exchanged a look
on it; for, besides being engaged to be married
we was the best of friends when we come
in—when we come in! Remember that!</p>
<p>After we said "How do ye do?" to Ruby, I
whispered to Jim not to celebrate too much.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>
He ain't a drinking man if for no other reasons
but those of my own; but just oncet in a
while he'd get a little more than he should, and
this opening night the show had gone awful
big. Had he but heeded me better! Alas!
Nothing doing; it was all in vain!</p>
<p>For description of party see any motion-picture
film on Vice. Why waste words on
what is so well known? And—believe you me—this
was just like a fillum; and, as I have
said, nothing like that for mine, usually. But,
even so, we might of got off safe and home
without no trouble—only for Von Hoffman
and the baby alligator.</p>
<p>It seems like this here Von Hoffman was
stuck on Ruby; in fact, it was him that suggested
her singing Overseas in that fierce costume.
Also, he gave her the alligator, she having
tried to pick on a present he couldn't possibly
get when he wanted to buy her something.
But, being German by descent, he had
the efficiency to get it, anyways; and there was
the alligator at the party, about fifteen inches
long, with a gold collar and diamonds in the
collar—and we at war!</p>
<p>Well, it seems this alligator hadn't eat since
it come; and after Ruby had a double Bronx<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span>
and two glasses of champagne the memory
of his hunger began to worry her—do you get
me? So she had him brought in and set in
the middle of the supper table on the orchids
at two dollars per each, which he sat on without
moving while the crowd tried everything
on him, from olives to wine, with no success.
The alligator seemed a awful boob, for he just
lay there like a stuffed one, which we knew he
wasn't on account of his not having eaten.</p>
<p>Well, Jim hadn't heeded me. I guess the
truth must be told, though, honest, he had took
but very little; still, being unused to it, the effect
was greater—do you get me? And pretty
soon he and this Von Hoffman was kidding
each other and that alligator something fierce.</p>
<p>Now Jim took a hate on this Von Hoffman
bird the minute he laid eyes on him, partly on
account of the costume of Ruby, and also on
general principles, because of the bird's accent.
But, the alligator not moving or nothing, Jim
asks if the alligator understands only German.</p>
<p>"In all probability," says Von Hoffman;
"he is a high-class alligator."</p>
<p>"Then he ought to understand American,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>
says Jim. "He'll have to eventually; why not
now?</p>
<p>"There's nothing to prove that," says the
German bird with a sneer. "He will probably
get along very well as he is, with German
only."</p>
<p>Jim looked mad as a hatter; but instead of
taking it out on this Von Hoffman, as he had
ought to have, he turned on that poor dumb
beast.</p>
<p>"Well," says Jim to the alligator, "here's
where you learn some patriotism."</p>
<p>And he leaned 'way across the table until
his face was only an inch or two away from
the alligator's. Jim looked that animal
straight in the eye and spoke very severe.</p>
<p>"To hell with Germany!" says Jim.</p>
<p>And with that the alligator snapped—snapped
right onto the end of Jim's nose! Oh,
my Gawd, but I yelled! So did Jim—believe
you me! And then we all tried to get that
fiend of a pro-German alligator off Jim's face.
When they succeeded in making him let go
you had ought to of seen Jim's nose! It had
four holes in it and was bleeding something
fierce.</p>
<p>Oh, may I never live to see such a sight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>
again, let alone having to go through what followed!
For once I forgot my refinement
completely, and I remember yelling at Jim
to kill that German. For if he didn't sick his
alligator onto Jim, who did? And there he
stood laughing at Jim for all he was worth;
and Jim never offered to fight him!</p>
<p>Believe you me, all my sympathy for Jim
melted right away when I seen he wasn't doing
nothing but stand there holding on to his nose
and moaning.</p>
<p>"I know alligator bites is deadly poison!"
He kept saying it over and over again, while
Von Hoffman was laughing himself sick.</p>
<p>"I hope it is poison!" he says. "I hope it is,
you jackanapes of an American dancer!"</p>
<p>At this I walked right up to that Von Hoffman
bird.</p>
<p>"I'll get you for this!" I says. "Somehow
I know you're a wrong one, and <i>I'll</i> get you,
even if Jim don't want to! I'd enlist to-morrow
if I was a man and get your old Kaiser
as well!"</p>
<p>Then, the next thing I knew, me and Jim
was in the limousine, on the way to the hospital;
and Jim was still moaning over being
poisoned by the alligator and getting blood all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>
over the place, and the car just relined and
everything! I didn't say a word just then,
because, of course, you must stick to a pal in
time of immediate trouble—do you get me?
But I was boiling mad inside, though worried
a little about the poison. Still, Jim's not hitting
that bird, Von Hoffman, was worse to
me than death itself.</p>
<p>At the hospital the chauffeur and me got
Jim inside somehow and to a desk in the hall.
There was a snappy-looking nurse sitting
there with a book, and our coming in at that
hour no more worried her than a fly in cold
weather. She just looked up quiet and spoke—sort
of unhospitable.</p>
<p>"Name of ailment?" she inquired.</p>
<p>"Alligator bite!" I told her, brief; and I
will say this got her goat a little, because she
made me say it twice more before she would
believe me.</p>
<p>Then she directed us down a long hall, and
a young guy in a summer suit of white duck
stopped reading the newspaper long enough
to give Jim's nose the once over.</p>
<p>"No cause for alarm," says this bird. "The
nose will be about twice its normal size for a
day, that's all!" All! And, as if that wasn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>
enough, he painted the nose and all round it
with some brown stuff, which stopped the
bleeding but made Jim look like he was made
up for some sort of comedy act. Jim was perfectly
sober by then and quit talking about
poison, and etc., and when he was back in the
limousine I just let myself go and bawled him
out good and plenty.</p>
<p>"Now see here, Jim," I says, "I've stuck
by you to-night long enough to make sure you
ain't goin' to die or nothin'; and now I'm
through!"</p>
<p>"You been just fine, Mary," says Jim, trying
to take my hand. I took it away quick.</p>
<p>"You don't get me!" I says. "I mean I'm
through for keeps. The engagement is
broken, and everything!"</p>
<p>"Whatter yer mean—broken?" says Jim,
sort of dazed.</p>
<p>"Just that!" I snapped. "Here you get
tight and take a insult from a German; and,
as if that wasn't enough, you go farther and
get bit by a pro-German alligator! And you
don't even offer to fight the German who owns
the alligator, either! And, what's furthermore,
you've got your face swoll up so's you
won't be able to dance to-morrow night; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>
that iodine won't wash off; and the act is
crabbed in the bud—do you get me? Crabbed!
And I'm through—that's all! So don't never
come near me again!"</p>
<p>Believe you me, Jim tried to make me listen
to reason; but I couldn't hear no reason to listen
to, and so wouldn't let him say much. Then
Jim got mad and bawled me out for breaking
my rule and going on the party, and by the
time we got to my place we wasn't speaking at
all—not even good night or good-by forever!</p>
<h3>II</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">For</span> hours and hours after Ma got me to bed
I just lay there thinking and aching and feeling
all hot and ashamed and terribly lonesome,
and with my career all ruined because of the
Germans—to say nothing of having been
obliged to become disengaged to Jim.</p>
<p>And then, just as I was nearly crazy wondering
how I was to get my self-respect back,
I got a swell idea. I would enlist! Ladies
could. I remembered reading a piece in a
newspaper some place about yeowomen or
something. And as soon as I realized that I
could serve Uncle Sam and help get even with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>
that bird, Von Hoffman, and the Kaiser and
the alligator, and lose my personal feelings in
public service, I got the most wonderfully easy
feeling round my heart and dropped right off
to sleep. But when I woke up in the morning
it was something fierce, the way I felt. Believe
you me, it was just like I had ate Welsh
rabbit the night before, or something—the
weight that was on my chest. At first I
couldn't make out just what it was. Then I
remembered. I had lost Jim! Of course I
hadn't lost him so much as shook him; but it
was all the same, or looked that way in the
cold gray dawn of ten A. M.</p>
<p>Honest to Gawd, I never knew how fond I
was of Jim until I woke up that day and realized
he was gone forever! But I wouldn't of
phoned him and say I'd changed my mind—not
on a bet I wouldn't. And, anyways, I
hadn't changed my mind. The evidences begun
to pile up against him. I commenced to
remember how he had been away on some mysterious
trips so many afternoons for the last
four or five months; and maybe with some
blonde, for all I knew. And then his going
to pieces like that over a mere alligator bite,
the way he done; and, worst of all, not hitting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>
that German, even though in pain, and crabbing
our act by getting bit on the nose.</p>
<p>The more I thought about it, the worser
I felt, laying there in retrospect and negligee.
And I couldn't see no way of us ever getting
together again—even when he called up and
apologized; which, of course, I expected he
would do any minute. But he didn't; and by
the time Ma came in and routed me out of bed
I had myself worked up so's I was crying
something terrible, and hating Jim as hard as
I could, which would of been enough to kill
him—only for the pain in my heart for loving
him.</p>
<p>While I ate only a light repast of ham and
eggs, and a little marmalade, and etc., Ma
made me tell her all; which I done the best
way I could with crying in between. And then
I told her about me having made up my mind
to enlist. She was some surprised at that,
though not much. Ma, having lived through
two circuses and a trapeze act, it is sort of hard
to surprise her very much—do you get me?
So all Ma says was:</p>
<p>"Well, Mary Gilligan!" says she. "Can ladies
enlist? I had a idea," she says, "only gentlemen
was permitted."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p>
<p>"No," says I. "I see a piece in the paper
where ladies can go in the navy—yeowomen
they call them; a fancy name for a stenographer!"</p>
<p>"A whole lot too fancy!" says Ma, very
prompt. "And no daughter of mine, a decent,
respectable girl, is going sailing off on no battleship
with a lot of sailors—not to mention
submarines; not if I know it!" says Ma. "So,
Mary Gilligan, you may as well put that idea
out of your head, let alone you ain't a stenographer
and couldn't learn it in a month."</p>
<p>"Well, Ma," I says, "maybe you're right;
and I do get seasick awful quick. But—oh,
Ma! I got to enlist some place. Can't you
see the way I feel?"</p>
<p>Ma could.</p>
<p>"I know!" she says, very sympathetic. "I
was the same when your pa missed both the
third trapeze and the life net. I would of enlisted
when he died if there had been a war.
And, of course, you feel like Jim was dead.
How about the Red Cross?"</p>
<p>"Won't do for me," I says, prompt. "I
don't see myself sitting around in no shop, with
a dust cloth tied over my head, selling tickets.
I got to do something active or I'll go bugs!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>
<p>Then Ma had a real idea.</p>
<p>"How about this here Woman's Automobile
Service?" says she. "The one I read you
the piece about? You're a woman and you got
a auto."</p>
<p>"Ma, you're a wonder!" I says. "Look up
the address while I get my hat on! Tell Musette
to call for the limousine; and watch me
make a trial for my new job!"</p>
<p>So they done like I asked, and I kissed Ma
and Musette good-by; also the two fool dogs,
for I had a sort of feeling like I was going into
battle already.</p>
<p>"When Jim calls up tell him it's no good—he
can't see me," says I, the last thing. And
then I set off in the limousine.</p>
<p>Well, I'd put on a very simple imported
model and a small hat, and only my diamond
earrings, and a brooch Jim had give me, when
we was first engaged, over my aching heart. I
wanted, above all things, to look refined; for,
even if the U. S. Army isn't always quite that,
still, this was a ladies' branch of it. And you
know what women can be—especially in organizations;
though I admit I hadn't had much
previous experience with them, except the
White Kittens, which Ma insisted on me keeping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>
up with and contributing to their annual
ball, because of she having always belonged.
And—believe you me—the scraps I seen at
some of their Execution Committee meetings
would make the Battle of the Marne look like
a pinochle post-mortem!</p>
<p>Well, as I was saying, I took no chances on
appearances of refinement in this case, not
knowing exactly what class of ladies would
be running the Woman's Automobile Service.
And, even when I got to their office, it took
me several minutes before I got the right dope
on them and their line—do you get me?</p>
<p>In the first place, it wasn't at all like the
White Kittens' Headquarters, in the Palatial
Hotel ball-room. Instead, it was a shop on a
swell side street, with two very plain capable-looking
dark-green ambulances standing outside.
My limousine had to stop next door on
account of them.</p>
<p>Well, I got out and walked across and into
that shop. And—believe you me—it was the
plainest place you ever saw; not even so much
as a flower or a rug to give it a womanly touch.
But neat! My Gawd! And there was three
young ladies there, all in the snappiest-looking
uniforms you ever want to see—dark green,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>
like the ambulances, with gold on the collar,
and caps like the Oversea's Army, and the
cutest leggings! My!</p>
<p>Maybe you think they looked like a chorus?
They did not! They was as business-like as
English officers. Over in one corner a frowzy-looking
little dame was sitting, reading a book.
There wasn't no unnecessary furniture in the
place, and 'way at the back was a door marked
Captain Worth—Private, which seemed funny.</p>
<p>The minute I come in one of the girls
jumped up and says what could she do for me?</p>
<p>I seen at once she was a perfect lady.</p>
<p>"I am Marie La Tour," I says in a very
quiet, low-pitched voice, like a drawing-room
act.</p>
<p>"Yes?" says she. "And what can I do for
you, Miss—er——"</p>
<p>"La Tour!" I says again, as patient as possible.</p>
<p>But it was plain she didn't get me, even the
second time, though it's a cinch she heard me
all right, all right. But the name simply
didn't mean nothing in her young life. Was
I surprised? I was! Of course if I had said
"I am Mrs. Vernon Castle," and she didn't
know who it was, I wouldn't of got such a jolt.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>
But Marie La Tour! Well, there's ignorance
even among the educated, and I realized
this and didn't try to wise her up any.
After all, I was not out for publicity, but for
serving my country. Besides, I had heard
right along that the army was full of democracy;
and, of course, this was some of it.</p>
<p>"Well," I says, "I would like to enlist. My
heart is broken, but full of patriotism, and this
seemed a good place to come."</p>
<p>"Good!" says this young lady, which I had
noticed by this time she had a lieutenant's uniform
on her, but not by any means intending
she was glad my heart was broken. "Good!"
she says. "Sit down and let me tell you about
our organization."</p>
<p>"Is it the regular army?" I asked.</p>
<p>"Not yet," says she; "but we hope we will
eventually get official recognition. We are already
used by the Government for dispatch
and ambulance service and as escorts and drivers
for officers and members of the various departments;
also, as government inspectors. So
you see it is a very live work."</p>
<p>"And it's a awfully pretty costume," I says;
"so snappy."</p>
<p>"The uniform is only the outward sign of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>
what we are doing," says Miss Lieutenant.
"You have a car?"</p>
<p>"Outside," I says; "eight-thousand dollars,
and all paid for. You can have it if it's any
good to you. Ma always prefers the street
car anyways."</p>
<p>"Thank you; that is splendid!" says the lady
officer, very pleasant, but not exactly excited
over my offer—which was some offer at that.</p>
<p>She took out a slip of paper and begun filling
in some blanks on it.</p>
<p>First, the make of the car, and then the answers
to the questions she shot at me.</p>
<p>"Can we have it at a moment's notice?" she
said. "Yes? Good! Is it new? In good
condition? Do you loan or give it?"</p>
<p>"Give!" I says, brief. "I am not going to
be a piker to Uncle Sam."</p>
<p>At this the lady lieutenant actually came out
of her shell enough to give me a smile.</p>
<p>"That's the spirit!" she says. "We sometimes
have as many as twenty offers of cars
a day. But, as a rule, they are half-time loans.
Can you drive?"</p>
<p>"Drive a horse?" says I.</p>
<p>"No, no," says the kid, serious again, "a car,
of course!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span></p>
<p>"Why, no," says I, feeling sort of cheap.
"Isn't there anything else I can do?"</p>
<p>"Plenty," she says, cheerfully; "but you will
have to learn to drive, first of all. You must
have a chauffeur's license, a doctor's certificate
of health, two letters of recommendation from
prominent citizens as to your loyalty and general
character, and a graduate's certificate from
a technical automobile school."</p>
<p>"Anything else?" I says, sort of faint.</p>
<p>"Well, of course, you will have to take the
nursing and first-aid course at St. Timothy's
Hospital," she says, "and the regular U. S.
Infantry drill. But that's about all."</p>
<p>"Do I have to learn all that stuff before I
can come in?" I asked, feeling about as small
as when I had my first try-out on the big time
circuit.</p>
<p>"Oh, no," says Miss Lieutenant; "you can
sign your application right away if you like.
Then you can come in immediately and start
rookie drill and the first-aid work with the
service while you are getting your technical
training."</p>
<p>Believe you me, my breath was about taken
away by all this stuff. I don't really know
now just what I did expect when I first come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>
into that shop, but I guess I had a sort of idea
they'd give me a big welcome and I'd get a
costume of some sort; and, after that—well, I
don't really know. I certainly never expected
what they handed me. But I was game.</p>
<p>"When can I commence all this?" I says.</p>
<p>"When do you want to?" says Miss Lieutenant.</p>
<p>"To-day," I says firmly. At this Miss
Lieutenant actually smiled again.</p>
<p>"Good!" says she. "The minute you bring
me that health certificate and those letters of
recommendation I'll sign you up and you can
start in at the Automobile Training School.
To-morrow morning is the time at St. Timothy's
Hospital and to-morrow afternoon is
rookie drill."</p>
<p>"And when is the auto school?" I says.</p>
<p>"Every afternoon," she says.</p>
<p>"Then," says I, "I'll get them letters and
the certificate here by noon. And if you O. K.
them I'll just start in this P. M.—if it's all the
same to you."</p>
<p>"Good!" says Miss Lieutenant, evidently not
displeased, yet determined to show no emotion.</p>
<p>Then she got up, indicating that our business<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>
was over, clicked her heels together like a
regular officer, and made a stiff little bow.
Oh, wasn't she professional, just!</p>
<p>"Well, I'll be back," I says, and started to
go. "I'm sure I can get everything but the
technical stuff; and I'll get that if I die of it!"</p>
<h3>III</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">And</span>—believe you me—I had no idea how
near true them words was when I uttered them.
I was almost at the door when the frowzy little
dame in the corner, which I had forgotten
she was there, come over and touched me on
the arm.</p>
<p>"I beg your pardon, my dear," she says;
"but I want to tell you I think your spirit is
fine. And don't let any fear of the technical
course deter you. Even I was able to do it."</p>
<p>Was I surprised? I was! But she seemed
very sweet and kind, though so unnoticeable;
so I just says thanks, and then—believe you
me—started out on some rush!</p>
<p>First of all, I hustled up to old Doc Al's
place, which Ma and me has him for a doctor;
though Gawd knows there ain't never a blessed
thing the matter with our healths. Still, since<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>
her trapeze days Ma has always felt that emergencies
do happen. Well, of course, he give
me a perfect certificate in less than ten minutes'
time, and I was off to see Goldringer,
head of the dancing trust; and him and his
partner, Kingston, each give me a elegant letter
of recommendation, than which I could
scarcely of got letters from any more prominent
citizens—unless, maybe, Pres. Wilson.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, I took all three recommends
down to the young lady lieutenant, and there
all was the same. Well, it was still lacking
five to twelve when I come in, and Miss Lieutenant
looked quite some surprised, though she
tried not to. The letters and the doc's certificate
was O. K.; and the first thing you know,
I was signed up and given three passes. One
for the auto school for two o'clock that same
P. M.; one for the hospital, calling for me to
be on hand for rehearsal of the nursing act at
nine o'clock next morning. The third was also
a call for rehearsal—a outdoor drill in the park
at three P. M. next day. It looked like I was
going to have a busy life.</p>
<p>"Well," I says, "would you like the car
now?" I says. "I can walk home just as good
as not."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
<p>"No, thanks," says Miss Lieutenant. "We
will call upon you for it when it is needed."</p>
<p>Believe you me, I was grateful for that, because
I ain't used to hustling round in the early
morning, and I had hustled some this time. So
I climbed in and says "Home, James!" and
dropped in on the seat and was carried uptown
for lunch.</p>
<p>While on the way I got the first chance I'd
had all morning to think about Jim, and to
wonder what he had said when he phoned to
apologize. And did the ache come back in my
heart when I got thinking of him? It did!
I felt almost sick with lonesomeness by the time
I got to the flat. And whatter you think?
Jim hadn't phoned at all! Not a peep out of
him!</p>
<p>At first I thought there must be some mistake;
but after I'd rowed with the operator in
the hall, and with Ma and Musette both, I come
to realize that the split between me and Jim
was real—that we was off each other sure
enough. And it was not so surprising that a
man which didn't hit a German whose alligator
had bit him wouldn't know how to treat a lady!</p>
<p>But somehow Jim's being so mean about not
phoning perked me up a lot and give me courage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>
to think of going into that auto school. I
had commenced to be awful doubtful about it;
but Jim's neglect, together with the lunch Ma
had fixed, set me up a lot. And by one-thirty
by my wrist watch, and a quarter to two by
the mantel-piece clock, I had the strength to
struggle into a <i>demitallieur,</i> which is French
for any lady's suit costing over sixty dollars,
and get to the auto school by the time the lady
lieutenant had told them to expect me.</p>
<p>Oh, that auto school! The torture chambers
of this here Castle of Chillon has nothing
on it and—believe you me—the first set of
tools a person going into it needs is a manicure
set. The next thing they need is a good
memory, the kind which can get a twelve-hundred-line
part overnight; which no dancer can
nor is ever supposed to!</p>
<p>One thing I will say for that school, though—they
was not such a ill-informed lot as the
Automobile Service. From the very minute
I set foot inside the place they knew who I
was, and the manager give me the pick of half
a dozen young fellows who was just filled with
patriotic longing to help me qualify for the
service.</p>
<p>After giving them the once over I finally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>
decided on one lean-looking bird, who seemed
married, and quiet, and likely to teach me
something about the insides of an auto, instead
of asking me questions about the steps of the
Teatime Tango Trot, and did I feel the same
in my make-up?</p>
<p>Well, the first thing this bird asks me is do
I know anything about a car? And I says,
know what? And he says, well, can I name
the parts of a car? And I says, yes; and he
says for me to name them. So I says color,
lining, flower holder, clock, speaking tube and
chauffeur.</p>
<p>Well, the bird says so far correct; but that
wasn't enough, and he guessed we better begin
at the more fundamental parts and would
I just step inside?</p>
<p>Well, it seems this auto school undertakes
to teach you everything about a car from the
paint on the body to the appendix, or magneto,
as it is called, in twenty lessons; which is
like trying to teach the Teatime Tango Trot,
with three hand-springs and twenty whirls
round your partner's neck, by mail for five
dollars. Which is to say it can't be done.</p>
<p>First off, the instructor hands you a bunch
of yellow papers with a lot of typewriting on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>
them—twenty sheets in all, or one per lesson,
and all you got to do is learn them good and
then put into practice what you learn; and
after that what you can't do to a car would fill
a book!</p>
<p>Well, after you grab this sheaf of stage bank
notes you look at number one and follow the
bird that's teaching you round the room while
he reels it off. I guess the idea of you holding
the paper is to check him up if he makes
a mistake. Anyways, this bird let me in
among a flock of busted-looking pieces of machinery
and begun talking fast. At first, I
didn't get him at all; but when I got sort of
used to it I realized he was saying something
like this:</p>
<p>"The crank shaft is a steel drop-forging having
arms extending from center of shaft according
to number of cylinders. It is used to
change the reciprocating movement of the piston
into a rotary motion of the flywheel; it has
a starting handle at one end and the flywheel
at the other, as you observe. We will now
pass on to the exhaust manifold, which is generally
constructed of cast iron; it conducts the
burned gases from the exhaust valve . . ."</p>
<p>"Hold on!" I says. "Exhaust is right! I'm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>
exhausted this minute. If you don't mind I'd
like to sit down and talk sense, instead of listening
to a phonograph monologue in a foreign
language."</p>
<p>The instructor bird seemed sort of winded by
this; but he got a couple of chairs and pretty
soon we was sitting in a quiet corner talking
like we'd both been on the same circuit for five
years.</p>
<p>"Now listen here, brother," I says real earnest;
"I want to learn this stuff, and learn it
right! And I want you to stick by me and see
me through, same as you would any male man
that come in here to learn to be a chauffeur.
Now take it easy and make me get it, and I'll
play square and do my best to understand,
without no nonsense."</p>
<p>"Say, you bet I will, Miss La Tour!" says
this bird, who, married or not, had some spirit
in him yet. "You bet I will! You see, a lot
of dames come in here just because they ain't
got nothing else to do. And you yourself
must realize that a guy can only go through
the motions when that's all they want."</p>
<p>Well, I could see that plain enough, and
from then on we got along like a new team of
partners with equal money in the act and going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>
big on thirty straight weeks' booking.
And—believe you me—there is a awful lot of
interesting things about a auto; only you
would never suspect it until you start to look
at what is under the hood and body. As to
understanding them all, you couldn't get it
all off of no twenty sheets of yellow paper, nor
twenty hundred, either! It's a career, really
understanding a machine is; just the same as
being a expert dancer. The guy that invented
all them parts and got them working together
certainly must of set up nights doing it.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, after two hours of lapping
up this dope I got so's I could actually tell the
cam shaft from the crank shaft and the difference
between a cycle and a cylinder, which
was enough for one day. And then I rode
home to Ma.</p>
<p>Actually I had almost forgot to be miserable
about Jim for two whole hours! But when
I got home, and he hadn't phoned to apologize
yet, it all came back over me, and I simply felt
that, automobiles and enlistments or no, I
wanted to die—just die! I cried so bad that
even Ma couldn't make me mind, and I was so
tired I couldn't even taste the hot cakes she
had fixed. I do believe Ma would think of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>
cooking something tasty if the world was coming
to a end the next minute. She'd be afraid
the recording angel would need a sandwich and
a cup of hot coffee to keep him going while he
was on the job.</p>
<p>But, anyways, they couldn't do nothing to
me, or get me to go to the Ritz or the theater
much less the midnight show; but the last did
not matter, because I was wore out and asleep
long before. And so Ma had to telephone
that Miss La Tour was suddenly ill and unable
to appear. I made her swear not to phone
Jim nor let him in nor Roscoe, the publicity
man, if they was to come—not on no account.
And so I slept—poor child!—worn by the tossing
of the cruel ocean of life—do you get me?</p>
<p>Well, next morning I was up long before
Musette, and would of been obliged to dress
unaided, only for Ma never having got used
to sleeping late, partly on account of her always
taking a nap just after the matinée performance
when with the circus, and still continuing
the habit. So Ma give me my coffee
and a big kiss, and promised not to tell Jim
nothing if he telephoned and I set off to be
at the hospital at nine A. M., according to orders
from Miss Lieutenant.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>
<p>Well, there has always been something about
a hospital I didn't care for much; not that I
have went to many—only the night Jim got
bit by the alligator; and once, when me and
Jim was first engaged, he had a dog which we
had to take to the dog hospital. But—believe
you me—this St. Timothy's Hospital, was
quite different from the dog hospital. It was a
whole lot more like a swell hotel, with porters
and bell boys and clerks and elevators, and
everything except a café, as far as I could
make out; and I'm not sure about that, but I
don't suppose they had it.</p>
<p>I was so scared of being late that I was a
little early and had to wait in a office. Pretty
soon two or three other rookies come in; and,
being ladies, of course we didn't dare to speak
to each other at first. And then the ladies of
the Automobile Service commenced coming in,
wearing their uniforms. And were they a
fine-looking lot? They were! I sure did wish
I had a right to that costume; and I had a feeling
that my heart wouldn't hurt near so bad,
even when thinking of Jim, once it was beating
under that snappy-looking uniform coat in
Uncle Sam's service—do you get me?</p>
<p>Well, about this time we were let go upstairs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>
in one of them regular hotel elevators,
the rookies still scared, the regular members
in good standing talking among theirselves,
though several spoke to me nice and friendly;
in particular, the little frowzy one which had
been reading the book the day before in the
office, but wasn't at all sloppy in her uniform.</p>
<p>Believe you me, I had a awful funny feeling
in the middle of my stomach going up in that
elevator, and not for the same reason as the
Metropolitan Tower or any of them tall buildings,
either. It was because of not knowing
what was ahead of me and preparing for the
worst. After I'd seen the kind of stuff them
lady soldiers had to learn in the auto shop, it
seemed like about anything might be expected
of them in a mere hospital. So I got myself
all braced up so's if I had to cut off a leg, or
extract a tooth or anything, I'd be able to go
to it and not bat an eye-lash—not outwardly,
anyway.</p>
<p>But things is seldom as bad as you figure in
advance—not even first-night performances.
And the stuff which was actually put up to us
was simple as a ordinary one-step. At least,
it looked so from a distance. By distance I
mean this: When the nursing instructor—a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>
lady in a white dress, with the darndest-looking
little soubrette cap stuck 'way on the back
of her head—when she stood up in front of the
lot of us and put a Velpeau bandage—which is
French for sling, I guess, and looks it—on one
of the lady soldiers who was acting as mannequin,
why, it looked easy.</p>
<p>While she was putting it on she handed us
a line of talk something like that bird at the
auto school, only not so fluent. And when
she got through it was up to the rest of us to
put the Velpeau bandages on each other.
Gawd knows it was no cinch.</p>
<p>First, I set down, and a girl in uniform
asked could she wrap me up. Well, it just
naturally rumpled my Georgette blouse; but
what's a blouse to a patriot? I let her go to
it, and she done it so good and so quick that it
was all over before I knew it, as the dentist
says; and then it was up to me. Somebody
give me a nice new roll of bandage and told me
to get a model.</p>
<p>Well, I didn't have the nerve to ask any
one, me being so new and the name Marie La
Tour not meaning anything to nobody here.
And so here was me standing round like a fool,
not knowing how to commence, when up comes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>
that lady—her which had been so sloppy reading
a book in the office.</p>
<p>"Can't I be your model?" she offered, and—believe
you me—I could of almost cried, I
was so glad to have somebody take notice of
me.</p>
<p>I liked that dame more each time I seen her;
she sure was refined. Even her sloppiness was
refined—do you get me?</p>
<p>Well, as to real work, that sheaf of yellow
papers up to the auto school had nothing on
the bandaging game when it come to understanding
it properly. Believe you me, that
bandage had a will of its own, and the only way
to make it mind would of been to step on it and
kill it. But after a little I managed to tie
up the lady pretty good, and before I was
done I had my mind made up that Musette had
lost her regular job and was going to be a bandage
mannequin from that P. M. on until I
got the hang of the thing.</p>
<p>Well, when the scramble of putting on the
bandage was over and past, we was told that
after we got on to the theory we'd be sent down
to the Charity Ward for two solid weeks and
practice what we'd learned.</p>
<p>Well, I thought, if I ever get there Gawd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>
help the charity patients! I guess the two
weeks won't qualify me for the Auto Service.
More likely I'll be ready for the Battalion of
Death, or whatever they call them Russian
women!</p>
<p>Well, when the bandages was all gathered
up we was dismissed, as they call it, and told to
report for drill in a certain place in the park,
it being a fine day.</p>
<p>I must say I didn't think a whole lot of the
hospital end of the game, because it wasn't
pleasant. Of course I had no intention to quit
in any way, but it sort of depressed me, what
with all that sickness going on round me and
the talk about wounds and bandages. And so
my mind wasn't took off Jim, like it was by
the auto work, me having a heart which needed
a little bandaging—only that can't be done,
of course.</p>
<h3>IV</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">Well</span>, on the way home I cried some more.
And well I might. For when I got there had
Jim phoned? He had not! Nobody but
Goldringer, the manager, and Roscoe, the
publicity man, and a few unimportant nuts like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>
that, and some of the newspapers. Ma had
stalled them off pretty good by saying it was
impossible to disturb me.</p>
<p>And it seems these people hadn't been able
to locate Jim anywheres, either. At first that
sounded sort of funny to me; but when I come
to think it over I realized about his nose, where
the alligator had bit him and the doctor had put
on the brown stuff, from which he wouldn't
naturally care to be seen—only no one could
say that it would prevent him using the phone,
which I also realized.</p>
<p>Well, after I eat a little liver and bacon,
and so on, which Ma had fixed for me, and cried
some, which made me feel better again, I
started out for drill; which means that now
comes the real important part of what happened
and the true measure of the tale, as the
poet says.</p>
<p>Well, it seems we rookies—and I must pause
to mention that I don't like that word rookies;
it sounds like something that would get the
hook amateur nights. Well, as I was saying,
we rookies was told to report at three o'clock
for a private drill, all of our very own. But
I was on to the fact that the regular members
in good standing would be there ahead of us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>
to do well what we was about to do badly. So
I thought I would go early and sit out in
front, or whatever was the same thing, and try
and get a line on how it was done.</p>
<p>Believe you me, there ain't many steps I
can't get by seeing them done once; and if I
was to of gone up to the Palace and watch
Castle, or Rock and White, or any one of
them, when I come away I could do the steps
they pulled as good as if I had invented them!</p>
<p>Well, this was my idea in going up and seeing
the ladies drill. So there I was at the park
bright and early on a fine sunny afternoon,
with the ladies all in uniform. But I wasn't
in any too much time, for I'd no sooner got
there than a big roughneck of a feller—a regular
U. S. drill sergeant, I found out after—come
up and yelled: "Fall in!" Just as rude
as any stage director I ever seen! But the
ladies didn't seem to mind a bit. They didn't
fall into nothing though; they just hustled into
line and stood there.</p>
<p>"Ten-shun!" says the feller. And they all
stood like a chorus when the stage manager is
telling them he is going to quit the show if they
don't learn no better, and they're a bunch of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>
fatheads, and he's going to get them fired. In
other words, they stood perfectly still.</p>
<p>Well, after that it was something grand,
what those ladies did. I will say that when I
come down to the park that afternoon I
thought maybe I'd see some pretty fair chorus
work; you know—formations, and etc. But
this was no chorus work, it was soldiering. I
never seen anything neater in my life. Was it
snappy? It was! And when I thought how
that bunch of ladies knew all about autos from
soup to nuts, and about bandages, and etc.,
believe you me—that drill was the finishing
touch.</p>
<p>For once in my life, I was anxious to be in
the chorus, even in the back line. But not forever—not
much! Believe you me, I made up
my mind that, once I was really in it, I was
going to work for a speaking part like I never
worked before. And meantime I started in
that direction by trying to figure out just what
the ladies did when the stage manager—I
mean, officer—hollered at them. And—believe
you me—I had the turn-on-the-heel and
push-off-with-the-toe idea on that right-and-left
face stuff long before the regular members<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>
in good standing was dismissed and we lady
rookies was called.</p>
<p>Well, the same roughneck which had drilled
the others had us simps wished on to him; and
the first thing he done was to get us in a row
—you couldn't properly call it a line—and then
stand out in front and look at us sort of hopeless
and discouraged, like a good director which
has just finished with a bunch of old-timers
and is starting with green material for the back
row. Then he commenced talking.</p>
<p>Well, while this bird was getting off a line
of talk about us now being soldiers of the
U. S. A. and that being no joke to him or us,
and etc., and etc., but no instructions in it, I
let my mind wander just a little, on account
of me having enlisted for deeper reasons than
any he mentioned and him quite incapable of
strengthening them.</p>
<p>And while my mind wandered this little bit,
and I was thinking how funny it felt to be back
in the chorus—do you get me?—I happened to
take a look at the houses facing the park. And—believe
you me—I got a jolt, for there we
was standing right opposite Ruby Rosalie's
house!</p>
<p>Well, I was that astonished to realize it you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>
could of knocked me over with a sudden noise!
Up to then I had been so interested in the other
ladies and what they was doing I hadn't even
noticed it.</p>
<p>And then, before I could really commence
to think what a awful thing it would be if Ruby
was to look out of the window and see me
standing there, and think I was just in some
chorus, and maybe that nasty Von Hoffman
with her, and the both of them laughing their
fool heads off, the officer says "Ten-shun!" he
says. And, of course, I tenshuned, because
of me being anxious to get everything he said
when it come to instruction, and get it right.</p>
<p>Well, he told us a lot of dope on one thing
at a time after he had got us in line, with the
tallest at the right hand, which was me. And
he told us very simple and then made us do it;
and no camouflage, because—believe you me—he
could spot any lady which done it wrong
quick as a flash.</p>
<p>I will say he didn't have a whole lot of
trouble with me, partly on account of me having
had similar work before, and also my feet
taking to new things so easy. But it took me
about ten minutes to see that my patent Oxfords,
with the Looie heels, was never going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>
to do for this work. Though I hate to say
it, the other ladies sure did bother him a lot.
They couldn't seem to mind quick enough.
And he had a lot of trouble making them keep
at attention.</p>
<p>Every time we'd be that way, just to show
what I mean, the lady next to me would forget
and powder her nose. Oh, that wasn't no new
sight to me! I seen worse in my day until
they get used to it. But did that officer get
mad? He did!</p>
<p>"Whatter ye think ye're at?" he yells. "A
pink tea? Cut that stuff now! Attention is
attention and youse is standing at it," he says.
"The worst crime youse can commit is move
without permission."</p>
<p>And—believe you me—I sympathized with
him, I did, little knowing what I was about to
do next my ownself.</p>
<p>Alas, that in ladies obedience comes so much
harder than following out a impulse! For the
officer had no sooner uttered them words, and
I agreed with him, than I went back on him
something terrible.</p>
<p>It was this way: As I explained, we was
drilling in the park, and not alone in the park
but also opposite Ruby Roselle's house. Well,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>
of course, we was drilling on a open piece of
grass, but at one side of this here grass was
fancy bushes; you know—hedges and what
not. And me, being on the end of the line,
was nearest them bushes.</p>
<p>Well, as the sergeant was speaking I seen
something move under one of them bushes;
and, as Heaven is my witness, there was that
pro-German alligator which had bit Jim on the
nose and started all my troubles. There he
was, walking very slowly, gold-and-diamond
collar and all, and by his lone self, with nobody
to protect him!</p>
<p>Well, I never stopped to think or salute, or
ask nothing of nobody. All I knew for the
time was that that damn alligator had somehow
got out on his own, and that this was the
chance of a lifetime. So, without more ado,
I fell right out of attention and rushed over
and reached into the bushes and grabbed the
alligator by the tail.</p>
<p>Well, the officer hollered something at me, I
don't know what, and all the ladies commenced
screaming. And was I scared of that alligator?
I was! But I held him up by the tail,
and it didn't take me two minutes to find out<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>
that he couldn't bite me that way; and then
my scare was gone.</p>
<p>I felt so good about getting him I didn't
even care much what was being said at me by
the drill sergeant. I just stood there holding
tight to the alligator's tail and grinning all over
myself. But up come Miss Lieutenant, who
had been watching our drill—the one which had
signed me up—and she was as mad as a hornet,
only having a awful time trying not to
laugh.</p>
<p>"What's this?" she says, indignant.</p>
<p>Fortunately the alligator was in my left
hand; so I saluted.</p>
<p>"Enemy alien alligator!" I says.</p>
<p>"Dismissed from the ranks!" she says.
"And report to Sergeant Warner at Headquarters
at five o'clock."</p>
<p>Gee, but that made me feel bad! But she
wouldn't listen to no explanations at all, and
there was nothing for me to do except walk
off to where the limousine was waiting. And,
in a way, I was glad, because suppose Ruby
had of looked out and saw the alligator in my
hand! I couldn't of got away with him.</p>
<p>As things went, I got him safe into the limousine.
And—believe you me—I didn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>
dare set him down for a minute for fear of his
trying to get even with me; and so I was
obliged to hold him at arm's length until we
got home, which it is a good thing that it wasn't
very far.</p>
<p>Well, when we got home you ought to of
seen the elevator boys get out of the way! I
walked in holding on to the alligator; and once
I got to the flat there was Ma sitting in the
Looie-the-Head-Waiter drawing-room, reading
a cook-book. When she seen what I had
I must say that for once she acted kind of surprised.</p>
<p>Of course, she ain't usually surprised, not
after her having twice seen sudden death in the
center ring, and the circus went on just the
same. But alligators coming in unexpected is
rather out of the usual. So Ma marked her
place at sauces for fish, and took off her glasses
so's she could see good, and give me the kind
of stare she used to hand out when I got dirt
on my Sunday-school dress.</p>
<p>"Why, Mary Gilligan!" she says. "For the
land's sakes, where did you get that?"</p>
<p>"Caught it on the wing!" I says, very sarcastic,
on account of my arm being nearly broke.
"Can you cook it for supper?" I says.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p>
<p>"Well," she says. "I guess I can. What is
it? A mock turtle?"</p>
<p>"It's a pro-German alligator," I says. "And
if you'll just kindly help me instead of standing
there staring at it, we'll intern it some place
so's I can leave my arm get a rest."</p>
<p>Well, we certainly had a fierce time finding
something to put him in, owing to us not being
able to agree about what kind of a place he
belonged. Ma was all for the goldfish bowl,
claiming it was his native element; and Musette,
who come in, thought the canary cage
was better. But, realizing he couldn't jump
very high, I had them get a big hat-box, and
set him in that.</p>
<p>"And now what are you going to do with
him?" says Ma as we all stood 'round looking
at him; and my two fool dogs barking their
heads off on account of a mistaken idea they
had that he was a new pet. "What are you
going to do with him?" says Ma.</p>
<p>"Unless you cook him, I don't know," I
says—"except for one thing: I'm going to take
that gold-and-diamond collar offen that brute
and sell it and give the money to the American
Red Cross; and I'm going to do it now!"</p>
<p>Believe you me, I was mad at that alligator!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>
And no wonder! Just look at all the trouble
he made me! So I didn't waste any time getting
action against him. First off, I persuaded
Ma, who was real brave, to hold a ice
pick down on his nose good and firm, so's he
couldn't open his face. Then I managed,
after a lot of trouble, to get that bejeweled
sinful collar off his neck. And was it a swell
collar? It was!</p>
<p>As soon as I had it off we just left that
alligator interned in the hat-box and looked the
collar over good. It was made all of a piece
and the jewels were certainly wonderful. I
know quite a lot about them, me and Ma always
having invested that way when we had
a little extra cash.</p>
<p>Well, as we was looking the stones over
carefully, I happened to rub one which was
close to the snap, sort of sideways, and right
off something happened: That there collar
parted—yes, sir; parted!—the lining from the
outside, and in the place between the setting
and the inside frame was a couple of thin slips
of paper!</p>
<p>Well—believe you me—it didn't take me
long to get the idea; not after having a father
and a mother which had been in the circus and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>
had to think quick, and me having been associated
with dramatic stuff all my life—do you
get me? You do!</p>
<p>What with that collar having come off a
alligator which I was already convinced was
a pro-German, and knowing Von Hoffman
had give it to Ruby Roselle, and got her to
sing Overseas in that nasty costume made out
of the national colors, which should never be
done, I seen everything clear. Von Hoffman
had a German job of some kind!</p>
<p>And when I unfolded those papers and seen
they was full of funny little marks like a stenographer
makes and then can't read, I realized
that I had happened in on it; and so will
any intelligent public.</p>
<p>Well, was Ma and Musette full of questions?
They was! But I didn't wait to answer
none of them; for I realized, also, that it
was almost five o'clock, and I was supposed to
report at Headquarters for a bawling-out at
that time. And, after me having broken the
rules once, I had no wish to do it again so soon.</p>
<p>Well, I just grabbed up the collar and the
papers, and a clean pair of gloves, as the alligator
had completely ruined what I had, and,
having on my hat, waited not to explain, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>
made a dash for the street. And by a big piece
of luck there was the limousine, still standing
outside on account of I having forgot to
tell John to go. Well, I told him "Headquarters!"
and off we started; and I got there
just on the dot of five o'clock.</p>
<p>Well, Miss Lieutenant was there, and a Miss
Sergeant—the one I was reporting to—and
that frowzy-looking lady I have spoke of before,
and several other ladies, still in their uniforms.
And while I was explaining, in comes
the captain, which she certainly is a smart
woman. And they all listened while I reported
and told the whole story about Ruby
and me and Jim and Von Hoffman and the
alligator. Then I saluted and handed over
said collar and papers in evidence; and then
the captain spoke up:</p>
<p>"This material, which is undoubtedly in a
foreign code, will be of interest to the Secret
Service," she says. "This Von Hoffman is
probably one of those persons who are active
in the obviously deliberate effort to cheapen
and degrade the quality of our patriotism,"
she says; "for I have heard that is part of the
German propaganda here."</p>
<p>"Private La Tour, in view of the unusual<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>
circumstances, you are excused for your action
in leaving ranks without permission," she
says; "but next time remember to get your
salute recognized," she says—"even under extreme
conditions."</p>
<p>Then she went on, and she says:</p>
<p>"I understand you have given your car,"
she says. "Some member in uniform will take
this evidence downtown in Private La Tour's
car," she says, "which we now accept for the
service."</p>
<p>Then she walked into her office, which said
Private on it, and closed the door; and I
watched one of the ladies in uniform go away,
with the collar and the papers, in my limousine.</p>
<p>And after she had went I got a terrible
scare, for it come over me all of a sudden that
I hadn't even a nickel change on me to buy car
fare home!</p>
<p>Well, just as I was standing there wondering
how I was going to hoof it after the
trying day I had had, that frowzy lady comes
up to me, real kind, like she could almost see
what I was thinking of; and she says:</p>
<p>"May I take you home in my car, Miss La
Tour?" she says. "I have seen you dance so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>
often that I feel as though I knew you. I am
Mrs. Pieter van Norden."</p>
<p>Just get that, will you, will you? Her that
I had been modeling myself on for refinement
for years! And—would you believe it?—on
the way home she told me she had been trying
to dance like me since the first time she seen me!</p>
<p>Well—believe you me—I felt so good over
this, and over having got the goods on Von
Hoffman, and about being excused for making
that bad break at drill, and not getting
fired out of the Automobile Service, that I
only commenced feeling bad about Jim and me
again after Mrs. Van Norden had left me at
the door of my place, and I was going up in
the elevator.</p>
<p>As I was letting myself in with my key I
got so low in my mind again that I felt I would
just die if Jim hadn't phoned; and I knew he
hadn't, for I'd given up hope. Well, I
opened the door and went in. And then I
got another shock; for right in the middle of
the drawing-room stood Jim.</p>
<p>Well, first off, I didn't know him on account
of him being in khaki; but when he turned
around I nearly died for sure! But I didn't
actually die. What I done is nobody's business<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>
but mine and Jim's. But I will say it was
a second lieutenant-of-aviation uniform; and
they show powder on the shoulder something
terrible.</p>
<p>And he had been studying for months; and
that's where he was every afternoon, and not
out with some blonde, and wouldn't tell me for
fear he wouldn't get it!</p>
<p>And I'm going to dance alone at night until
he comes back, and all day drive a truck or
something to release a man. And that's the
whole inside story of the split, which is now
readily seen is not a fight at all, at least not yet
for we got married at once.</p>
<p>So, only one thing more: Regarding that
alligator, Ma decided he would be too hard to
cook. So Jim took him to camp for a mascot,
and by the time he got through there he learned
to understand American—believe you me!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2>II</h2>
<h2>PRO BONEHEAD PUBLICO</h2>
<h3>I</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">Ain't</span> it remarkable the way the war has
changed the way we look at a whole lot of
things? Take wrist-watches for one. Before
the military idea was going so strong on its
present booking but a little while, wrist-watches
had grabbed off a masculine standing
for themselves, and six months before no real
man would of been willingly found dead in
one!</p>
<p>Then take newspapers! Oncet we used to
look at them for news, and now we just look
at them. It's kind of a nervous habit, I guess.
And take simple little things like coal and
sugar. Why once we paid no attention to
them and now we look at them real respectful—when
we see them. Which leads me on to
say that the war has brought us to look at a
great many things we never even seen before,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>
not if they was right under our noses. That's
how I come to see that letter from the W.S.S.
Committee—and would to Heaven I had not,
as the poet says. For although—believe you
me—most of the mail order goods a person
buys is pretty apt to be as rep. because why
would a customer write again which had been
stung once, and thrift stamps is no exception,
it certainly will be a long time before I fall so
easy for anything the postman slips me. Next
time I'll recognize that his whistle is a note
of warning to more than them which has unpaid
bills, which I have not and so never listened
for him.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, the time this little trouble
maker reached my side, I had slipped into a
simple little lounging suit of pink georgette
pajamas, and was lying on the day-bed in a
regular wallow of misery on account of wondering
if Jim was dead on the gory fields of
France, or was it only the censor—do you get
me? I was laying there rubbing a little cold
cream onto my nose and thinking how would
it feel to be always able to do so without losing
my husband's love, which, of course, would
mean he had died at the front, when in comes
Ma with a couple of letters. I give one shriek<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>
and sprung to my feet, like a regular small-time
drama, and grabbed them off her, cold
cream and all. And then slunk back upon the
day-bed and despair when I seen they weren't
from Jim. Ma stood there with her hands on
her hips until she seen I wasn't going to break
any bad news to her, when she left me in peace
to read them. That is she meant to, but believe
you me, it was far from it as Ma went
into our all-paid-for gold furnished parlour
and commenced playing on the pianola which
Jim had give me for a souvenir before he
sailed, and Ma, being sort of heavy and strong,
after twenty-five years with a circus, she has a
fierce touch.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, after she had got "Soft and
Low" going strong with the loud pedal and no
expression, I opened the first envelope. It was
my copy of my new contract with Goldringer
all signed and everything and calling for only
twenty minutes of my first class A-1 parlour
dancing act in his new musical show at the
Springtime Garden entitled "Go To It" and
which let all persons know that the party of
the first part hereinafter called the manager
was willing and able to pay Miss Marie La
Tour, party of the second ditto, one thousand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>
dollars a week. Which certainly was <i>some</i>
party to look foreward to and scarcely any
work to speak of, a refined act like mine not
calling for over three handsprings and some
new steps, which is second nature to me and I
generally make up a few every night for my
own amusement same as some of those fellows
which play the piano by hand—do you get me?</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>Well, anyways, when I had looked the contract
over good and seen it really was, as I
had before realized in the office, more than satisfactory,
I salted it away in my toy safe which
was nicely built into the mantel-piece for the
greater convenience of burglars, and then I remembered
the other envelope. All unsuspecting
as a table d'hote guest, I opened the envelope,
and then almost dropped dead.</p>
<p>It was from President Wilson!</p>
<p>Believe you me, I leaned up against the art-gray
wall paper and prepared to faint after I
had read the news. But instead of commencing,
"I regret to inform you of the death in
battle," or something like that, it started:</p>
<blockquote>
<p class="author">
"The White House,<br />
"Washington, D. C.<br />
</p>
<p>"I earnestly appeal to every man, woman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>
and child to pledge themselves to save constantly
and to buy as regularly as possible the
securities of the Government; and to do this
as far as possible through membership in War
Savings Societies.</p>
<p>"The man who buys War Savings Stamps
transfers his purchasing power to the United
States Government.</p>
<p>"May there be none unenlisted in the great
volunteer army of production and saving here
at home.</p>
<p class="author">
"<span class="smcap">Woodrow Wilson</span>."<br />
</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Woodrow Wilson! Signed—and addressed
to <i>me!</i> Of course it didn't exactly begin
"Dear Miss La Tour" or anything like that,
and he had signed it with a rubber stamp or
something which I did not hold against him
in the least, me realizing at once what a busy
man he must be. But coming as it done instead
of a death-notice which I had by this
time fully expected after no letter for over a
month, it got to me very strong. It made me
feel all of a sudden that I was a pretty punk
patriot lounging around in pink georgette
pajamas which—believe you me—is no costume
for war-work and felt like going right<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>
off and borrowing one of the gingham house-dresses
which I have never been able to break
Ma of, only, of course, it would of been too
big and anyways what would I of done after
I had it pinned around me? Which could be
said of a whole lot of folks which were rushing
into uniforms of their own inventing.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, after the first shock was
over, I seen there was an enclosure with the
President's letter. This was from some committee
which had a big W.S.S. lable printed
at the top and a piece out of the social register
printed underneath, and was dated N. Y.
It begun more personal.</p>
<p>"Dear Miss La Tour," it said. "As a
woman so prominent in the theatrical world,
we feel sure that you would be glad to take
an active interest in the great Thrift movement
which is now before the country. Will you not
form a theatrical women's committee that will
pledge the sale of twenty-five thousand dollars'
worth of stamps on the first of the month?
The first of every month will be observed as
Thrift Stamp Day, and we will be glad to furnish
you with all literature, stamps, etc., if
you will notify headquarters of your willingness
to do this work."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p>
<p>The letter was signed by some guy which it
was impossible to read his name because he
hadn't used no rubber stamp but did it by hand
and had other things on his mind. But did I
care? I did not! Believe you me, I had already
decided to do like he asked, and why
would I need to know his name when I wasn't
going to write to him anyways, but to Mr. Wilson?
Dancing as long as I have which is about
fifteen years or since I could walk, pretty near,
and not only professionally but drawing my
own contracts from the time most sweet young
things is thinking over their graduation
dresses, I have learned one thing, if no other.
Always do business with the boss. Refuse to
talk to all office boys, get friendly with the
lady stenographer, if there is one, but do all
business with the one at the head—and no
other! This motto has saved me no end of
time which has been spent in healthy exercise
under my own roof and Ma's eagle eye, which
otherwise might have wore out the seats of
outside-office chairs.</p>
<p>And so I concluded that I'd sit right down
that minute and let Mr. Wilson know I was
on the job. I knew I had some writing paper
someplace and after I had took a lot of powder<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>
and chamois and old asperin tablets out of
the desk I dug it up:—a box of handsome
velour-finish tinted slightly pink, with envelopes
to match. And I got hold of a pen
and some ink which Musette, my maid, had
overlooked, she being a great writer to her
young man which is French and Gawd knows
how fluent she writes him in it, only of course
being born over there certainly makes a difference.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, I cleaned off the desk and
rubbed the cream off my nose and hands and
set down to write that letter. And—believe
you me—it was some job. I guess I must
of commenced a dozen times and tore them
up with formal openings—do you get me?
And then I realized that the box of pink tinted
was getting sort of low and I had better waste
not want not, and so determined to just be
natural in what I wrote but not take up his
time with too long a letter. So at last I threw
in the clutch, gave myself a little gas, and we
was off, to this effect.</p>
<blockquote><p>"My dear Mr. Wilson:—</p>
<p>"Many thanks for yours of the 25th inst.
Will at once get busy at helping to make the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>
first of the month savings day instead of unpaid-bill
day.</p>
<p class="center">
"Cordially,<br />
<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 6em;">"Marie La Tour.</span>"<br />
</p></blockquote>
<p>This seemed refined and to the point, and
although I was awful tempted to put a P.S.
asking did they know anything about Jim, I
left off on account of me not believing in asking
personal favors of the Government just
now, as the war office was probably medium
busy and the Censor might answer first, at
that. So I just sealed it up as it was, and
about then Ma left off playing on my souvenir
and came in with a pink satin boudoir cap down
tight over her head. Ma just can't seem to get
over the idea that boudoir caps at five dollars
and up per each is a sort of de lux housework
garment.</p>
<p>"I'm just going in the kitchen and beat up
a few cakes for lunch," said Ma, and withdrew,
leaving me to lick on three cents and
shoot the letter fatefully and finally down the
drop near the gilt-bird-cage elevator of our
home-like little flat. I felt awfully relieved
and chesty somehow when it was done and with
her good news ringing in my ears. For Ma is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>
certainly some cook, and she has it all over our
chef, who—believe you me—knows she would
never be missed if she went although Ma simply
can't learn to stay out of the kitchen. And
while she was busy with the butter and eggs
and sugar and wheat flour, I was deciding to
call a committee, because I knew that was the
way you generally start raising twenty-five
thousand dollars worth of anything, except a
personal note.</p>
<p>Committee meetings is comparative strangers
to me except the White Kittens Annual
Ball, and a few benefit performances which
last is usually for the benefit of those which
are to be in it, they leaving aside all consideration
of the benefit of the audience much less of
the charity it is supposed to be for, and
the main idea being how long each actor can
hold the spotlight. You may have noticed
how these benefit performances runs on for
hours.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, I having been to several
such as of course the best known parlour dancing
act in America and the world, like mine
undoubtedly is, is never overlooked. And I
knew we had to get a place with a big table
and chairs set around it and then the committee<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>
was started. So the White Kittens always
having met in the Grand Ball Room of the
Palatial Hotel, I called up the place and hired
the room for the next morning at twelve-thirty,
me being determined that my Theatrical
Ladies Committee should get there directly
after breakfast. The cost of the room was one
hundred dollars, and I didn't know was the
Government to pay it or us, but I was, of
course, willing to do it myself if necessary.
Anyways it was a committee-room, I knew
that by reason of my having sat in it as such
at least twice each year since the place was built—way
back in '13. Then all I had to do was
get my committee.</p>
<p>I had just about dived for the telephone book
to see who would I call up, when Ma come in,
taking off the pink satin cap and wiping her
face.</p>
<p>"I made a omlette," said Ma. "Come catch
it before it falls!"</p>
<p>And so I called it the noon-whistle though
some might of called it a day, and we went in
and while we ate only a simple little lunch of
the omlette (which we got at first base) and
liver and bacon and cold roast beef and a few
stewed prunes with the fresh cake, I told Ma<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>
about what had happened, and how I had already
got after the job.</p>
<p>"Well, Mary Gilligan, you done the right
thing!" said Ma. "And what kind of costume
are you going to wear?"</p>
<p>"The notices don't say anything about a uniform,"
I explained to her. "And I'm pretty
sure you don't need any. This is the sort of
thing our leading society swells are taking up
so heavy," I says, "and to do it is not only patriotic
but feminine to the core," I says.</p>
<p>"Will you have to stand on the street-corners
and worry the life out of folks?" Ma
wanted to know.</p>
<p>"Not much!" I says. "That stuff is for the
hoi-poli and idle rich and kids and unemployed.
That's where some of the new democracy comes
in. Us with brains is to do the office work.
Them with good hearts only can do theirselves
and the country more service in the stores and
street-cars selling something that don't belong
to them," I says, "and—believe you me—I bet
any American gets a funny sensation doing
that little thing."</p>
<p>Ma looked real impressed for a minute,
showing she hadn't any idea what I was talking
about. Then she come back to her main<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>
idea with which she had started which you can
bet she always does until she gets through with
it her own self.</p>
<p>"Well, I think you ought to have something
for a uniform," she says. "Say a cap and
maybe a trench coat!"</p>
<p>"I wouldn't wear no trench coat around the
Forty-Second Street and Broadway trenches,"
I says. "I wouldn't actually have the nerve
to insult the army like that!"</p>
<p>And Ma seen what I meant and said no more
which it certainly is remarkable how good we
get on for Mother and daughter.</p>
<p>So she only urged me to have another cream-cake,
which I took and then I made for the
phone and started calling up some ladies to
form the committee out of. After thinking
the matter over very careful I finally decided
on six of the most prominent in my line which
was, of course, the Dahlia sisters which had
been often on the same bill with me and, of
course, they ain't really related—no such team
work as theirs was ever pulled by members of
the same family, unless maybe when knocking
some absent member—do you get me? Well,
anyways, beside them I got Madame Clementina
Broun, the well known Lady Baritone,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>
she being a rather substantial party which
would give weight to us in cabaret circles. Of
course Pattie The Dancer had to be asked, she
being so prominent especially as to her tights
and strong pull with Goldringer but I only
done it out of diplomacy, which any one knows
committees has to have a lot of. And she is
less diplomatic than me as well, for instead of
just accepting for her own self she accepts also
for some friends which I had not invited, and
she did not name. Pattie is alias Mrs. Fred
Hutchins—him who gets up those reviews—you
know—which is the only reason she is
starred in them for Gawd only knows a child
which had been started anywheres near right
could of done her steps at the age of seven,
they being mere hard-sole clog with no arm
movements but having a great many imitators
among college boys and such, that scare-crow
stuff being as showy as it is easy.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, when I had got this far I
had one vacancy on my hands and as our Allies
was not sufficiently represented so far, decided
on Mlle. DuChamps which of course she
was really born in Paris, Indiana, but as a
toe-dancer is unequalled in any language and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>
has a lovely broken accent. So there we had
France. Madame Clementia was married to
a Italian and he being dead or something I
never asked what I felt she was a safe Ally because
she couldn't of revolted, not if a
schrapnel was to have went off under her.
Pattie was of course Irish and the Dahlias'
Jewish, and Gawd knows what the other girl
was and I didn't care.</p>
<h3>II</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">When</span> they had all promised to get theirselves
waked up on time and be over to the Palatial,
I kind of weakened on Ma's suggestion
about clothes. Of course I wasn't going to
fall for that uniform stuff, but when me and
Musette looked over my clothes I simply
didn't have a thing to wear. Every one of
my dresses was too morning or evening
or something and above all things I do
believe in dressing a part, and certainly I
had nothing which looked like a chairmaness.
So after getting into a simple little sports costume
of violet satin and my summer furs, and
taking a peep into the mail box to see had anything
got by the censor yet which of course it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>
hadn't, I started out to buy me something
which would be quiet but tasty and snappy because
nothing inspires respect in a ladies committee
like a dress none of them has seen before.</p>
<p>Have you ever noticed how you can pass up
something which has been right under your
nose day after day and then all of a sudden
you hitch on to something which belongs to it
and then all you see is that thing—do you get
me? Say yellow kid boots. You never even
noticed a pair, but one day you buy them and
next time you're out every second woman has
them on. Or you go into mourning for somebody
and all of a sudden you commence noticing
how many other people is the same only
of course there ain't over the average—it's only
that you notice it because you are in it. Well,
believe you me—that first afternoon I went
out after receiving the President's letter, I was
that way with this W.S.S. stuff. Of course
I had bought my thousand dollars worth the
first week they was out, as had also Ma and
she and I together the same for Musette. But
we had done it on the Liberty Loans the same,
also Red Cross and thought we was through
and all the signs and posters and what not had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>
come to be invisible to me like a chewing-gum
or a soap ad—do you get me?</p>
<p>But now I was in it and not only did I see
every sign and see them good, but felt like I
had one on my back and everybody must know
about the letter and everything. I walked
kind of springy, too, in spite of the furs, and
then when I turned into the Avenue, me being
on foot, a five mile walk per day having to be
got away with by me or Ma would know the
reason why, the trouble commenced. Believe
you me, I must of refused to buy thrift stamps
one hundred times in twenty blocks, and every
time I said I had all I could, the look I got
handed me would have withered a publicity
man. There must be a hot lot of fancy liars
among us, with no imagination, for why would
W.S.S. still be on sale if everybody had bought
that much? And when I wasn't refusing to
buy stamps I was forking out quarters for
everything from blind Belgian hares to Welch
Rabbits for German prisoners. And it's a
good thing I had a charge account to Maison
Rosabelle's or I would never of got my dress.
And the more I was pestered to buy them
stamps the madder I got. I commenced to
feel it was a regular hold up, and that the police<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>
ought to interfere. A person which is pestered
to death will even sour on the Red Cross.
I don't mean that they ain't humane, neither—only
that they are human, and the most dangerous
thing to do to a human is to bore it—any
one in the theatrical professions learns
that young and thoroughly. And when I realized
that I was getting bored with this constant
hold-up I got a fearful jolt and a cold
chill.</p>
<p>Here I was undertaking to chair a committee
to sell the things and Gawd knows my
heart ought to of been in it with Jim over there
and all, and it was, only getting bored with
the war is kind of natural, it being so far off
and nothing likely to do us personal bodily injury
on the Avenue unless maybe the restaurants
or a auto and that our own fault. And
so soon as I realized what I was up against
with the great Boredom Peril, I realized also
what I had personally in writing promised Mr.
Wilson, and took a brace. It was just like the
early days on the Small-Time when the booking
depends on the hand and the hand was the
one which fed us—and not any too much at
that with the carrying expenses—and the hand
was getting weaker. Me and Ma sat up all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>
one night doping out my double handspring
with the heel-click. And it was a desperate
effort and we thought it was a flivver but not
at all. When I landed on my feet after the
first try-out, I knew I was there to stay, and
any intelligent public will realize that I remembered
it now. And by this time I had
reached the store I was headed for.</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>I will confess that from the moment I had
decided to buy a new dress I had my mind all
set on what it was to be—something sheer and
light—printed chiffon, and a hat to go with it.
But by the time I had reached Maison Rosabelle
my hunch on my new job was beginning
to go strong and one of the things that worried
me was that dress. Also my lunch.
Sometimes it happens that too much of a good
thing is the only thing which will turn you
against it—do you get me? And Ma's cream
cakes had this effect. Maybe had I eat less
of them I would not have had no indigestion
and so not counted their cost as Lincoln, or
somebody, says. And if I hadn't had the
indigestion maybe I wouldn't of worried over
the dress. Well, anyways, the first person I
see inside the store was Maison herself, very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>
elegant and slim, only with a little too much
henna in her hair as usual.</p>
<p>"Well, Masie," I said when we had got into
the privacy of the art-gray dressing room and
lit a cigarette, while the girl went for some
models. "Well, Masie, I want to know is
business good?" Masie is her real name she
having Frenchified it for business reasons, the
same as myself.</p>
<p>"Oh, dearie!" says she. "Business is elegant!
With so many officers in town, I can
scarcely keep enough things in stock. The
beaded georgettes go so fast, on account of
being perishable. Ruby Roselle had three last
week of me. One party and they're gone!"</p>
<p>While Masie and me has been friends ever
since I can remember, her mother having been
Lady Lion Tamer in the same circus with Ma
and Pa's trapeze act, as she uttered them
words, I commenced feeling a little coolness
toward her. For once I get a idea in my
head it's a religion to me, and the W.S.S. was
getting to me.</p>
<p>"Dont you think maybe that's profiteering,
Masie?" I ast.</p>
<p>Maison run a well manicured hand over her
marcelle and smiled superior—she has always<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>
prided herself on being sort of high-brow and
reads <i>Sappy Stories</i> regular.</p>
<p>"Why, dearie, how you talk!" she says.
"Dont you know that a little gaiety keeps up
the morale of the country?"</p>
<p>"I'm not so sure about some gaiety keeping
up the moral of anything!" I says with
meaning, not wishing to directly knock anybody
but still wishing Masie to get me. "And
personally myself, I think any time's a bad
time to waste money on clothes which won't
last!"</p>
<p>"My goodness, Sweetie!" Masie shrieked.
"What's gonner become of us if ladies was to
quit buying? Tell me that? How we gonner
hire our help, and all, and how can they live
if we dont hire 'em? Have a heart!" she says.
"And what are you talking about—you coming
in after a new dress yourself, and only last
week had two chiffons which Gawd knows
ain't chain-armour for wear!"</p>
<p>"I know!" I admitted, "but I'm going to can
my order. Just tell the girl to bring gingham
or something which will wash—if you got such
a thing!"</p>
<p>"Well, Mary Gilligan, I guess you're going
nutty!" says Masie, but she gives the order,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>
and I choose one at $15—which could be dry-cleaned,
and that was the nearest I could come
to what I was after.</p>
<p>"You wont like it!" Masie warned me. "It's
too cheap—better take a good silk!"</p>
<p>But I wouldn't—not on a bet. Even although
what Masie said about cutting down
too much on buying stuff sounded sensible, or
would if only the question was how far can
a person cut before they reach the quick? Of
course I see her point, and she had as good a
right to live as me. Yet something was wrong
some place, I couldn't figure out where. So I
just charged the dress and set out for home,
and owning a cotton dress made me feel awful
warlike and humble—do you get me?</p>
<p>But while I felt better about my dress, the
cream-cakes was still with me, and, being now
a sort of Government Official, they and that
got me noticing the food signs, as well, and
wishing I had eat only a little cereal for my
lunch. That gave me a idea which on arriving
home I handed to Ma.</p>
<p>"I have just bought me a wash-dress, or almost
so, Ma!" I told her. "And honest to
Gawd I do think we ought to eat to match it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>
Suppose we was to go on war-rations of our
own free wills?"</p>
<p>"Well, we eat pretty plain and wholesome
now!" says Ma. "Just like we always done!"</p>
<p>"But times is different!" I says, toying with
the soda-mint bottle, and who knows but what
they were being more needed abroad? "And
cream-cakes is a non-essential. Especially to
one which has to keep her figure down," I says.
"So for lunch to-morrow let's have cereal
only," I says.</p>
<p>Well I hate to take pleasure from any one
and the sight of Ma's face when I said this
would of brought tears to a glass eye. But
I felt particularly strong-minded just then
what with the indigestion and no letter from
the censor yet and Gawd knows that is no joke
as they are certainly more his than Jim's by
the time they get to me! But after I had told
Ma how all the caviar had ought to be sent
over to the boys and how food would win the
war and how Wilson expected every man—you
know—well, she got all enthusiastic over
making up a lot of cheap recipes and we had the
butcher and grocer pared down to about ninety
cents each per day. Ma could just see herself
growing slim, and she kept remembering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>
things she used to cook for Pa in the old days
before she retired on the insurance money.
And first thing you knew the time had come
for me to go to the theatre. Just as I was
starting for the door Ma mentioned Rosco,
our publicity man.</p>
<p>"Are you going to call him or will I?" she
wanted to know.</p>
<p>"About what?" I asked.</p>
<p>"Why about your committee-meeting to-morrow?"
she says.</p>
<p>"Nothing doing!" I came back at her.
"Would you invite a manager to see a practice-act?
Its going to be amateur-night for me, to-morrow
is, and no outsiders are urged to attend!
And anyways, I'm not doing this for
publicity which Gawd knows I dont need any,
but for my Uncle Sam!"</p>
<p>"Well, thank goodness, you aint go no other
relations you feel that way about," says Ma,
"or we'd all be in the poorhouse shortly!"</p>
<h3>III</h3>
<p>Well, that night when I came home I cried
myself to sleep with my head under the pillow
so's Ma wouldn't hear what I called the censor,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>
but slept good on account of the simple
little war-supper of only lettuce and a cup of
soup which Ma had ready for me, and in the
morning was up with the lark as the poet says,
only of course they was really sparrows, it being
the city. Well, anyways, I felt good and
husky and as early as eleven-thirty I was all
fixed up in the new wash dress, which its a actual
fact Musette had to sew it together four
separate places that it come apart while putting
it on me. The goods wasn't the quality I
had thought, come to look at them closer, but
anyways it was cheap and that was one good
thing about it. Ma brought me in a shredded
wheat-less biscuit and a cup of coffee, a sort of
funny look on her face like she had taken her
oath and would stick it out to the death. She
didn't say anything, only set it down and I ate
it, saying nothing either because it was what
we had agreed we would get along on for
breakfast. When I was through she give me
a news item.</p>
<p>"The cook is leaving!" she says. "On account
of the new rations."</p>
<p>"That's no loss!" I says gaily, because as a
general thing Ma is only too glad when this
happens.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p>
<p>"I ain't so sure!" says Ma. "I'm not as
young as I was, and I cant do <i>all</i> the cooking!"</p>
<p>Well—believe you me—I sat up and took
notice of that! Ma kicking at her favorite
pastime. Something was wrong. But even
then I didn't get what it was. So I just remarked
we could eat our dinners at the Ritz
that being good publicity anyways and always
expected of me in full evening dress when I
am dancing. So that much settled and there
being no letter yet and me being sort of nervous
about that meeting which was breaking
ahead, I went and beguiled a hour at Jim's
souvenir. I thought a whole lot of that
pianola, he having given it to me just before
he sailed, and as of course it was too heavy to
wear over my aching heart which is generally
supposed to be done with souvenirs of loved
ones overseas, I put in a good deal of time sitting
at it, and—believe you me—my touch is
a whole lot better than Ma's which me being
light on my feet by nature and business both,
is not so surprising. Well, I got myself all
worked up over Jim while playing "Somewhere
A Voice Is Calling with Mandolin Arrangement"
and a whole lot of expression and
what with feeling a little low on account of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>
patriotic breakfast, I was just in the right
frame of mind to throw myself heart and soul
into the good work before me—do you get it?
You do!</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>Well, I had no sooner left the shelter of our
own flat, than that same hold-up game which
I had noticed so particular the day before was
started on me. The elevator-girls, which had
taken the place of a standing yet sitting army
of foreign princes which had used to clutter
up our front hall and the only excuse they had
for living was the nerve they give the landlord
when he come to price the rents:—well, anyways,
the girls which had taken their places
since the draft blew in, was selling W.S.S.
Of course I couldn't buy any for the same reasons
as yesterday. So they sprung a working
girls War Crippled Aid Fund and I contributed
to that, because I believe in girls running
elevators. Why wouldn't they, when
thousands has run dumb-waiters so good for
years? Well, anyways, I give them something
and escaped to the street only to be lit on for
stamps by the first small boy I met. And
after only seven others had tried me, I got to
the Palatial Hotel, and—believe you me—by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>
that time worried pretty severely about how
could a person sell twenty-five thousand dollars
worth of the pesky things and not get slain
by some impatient citizen who felt that I was
the last camel and his back was broke, or whatever
the poet says? Really, it was serious, and
being the first of the Theatrical Ladies to arrive,
the big ballroom with the table and seven
empty chairs like a desert island in the middle
of the floor, failed to cheer me any.</p>
<p>Well, there was a arm-chair at one end of
the table and there being nobody around to
either elect me or stop me, I grabbed off this
chair and held to it with the grim expression
of a suburbanite who knows her husband isn't
coming but wont admit it, and a good thing I
acted prompt as should be done in all war-measures,
because pretty soon the other ladies
commenced arriving. I guess they must of
thought they could get a better part by coming
early, they was so prompt, and by one
o'clock they was actually all there except Pattie
and her unknown friend, which was pretty
good, the date having been twelve-thirty.</p>
<p>Well, we all shook hands and I arose from
my seat but didn't move a inch away from it,
having seen something of committee meetings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>
where the wrong person had it. And then
they all sat down and took in my dress and
hat and I theirs, and we was very amiable and
refined and I felt so glad I had picked such a
good bunch and wished Pattie would hurry so's
we could commence, when lo! as the poet says,
my wish was granted, for in come Pattie and
with her her friend and My Gawd, if it wasn't
Ruby Roselle!</p>
<p>Well, far be it from me to say anything
about any lady, only pro-Germans is pro-Germans
by any other name, as Shakespeare says,
provided you can find it out, and here she was,
butting in on a gathering of would-be Dolly
Madisons and Moll Pritchers and everything,
and I wouldn't of invited her for the world
if only Pattie had mentioned her name. But
here she was, all dressed up like a plush horse
and so friendly it got me worried right away.
Any one which has seen Ruby in her red, white
and blue tights will at once realize what I
mean, though nothing but the tights was ever
proved against her. What on earth she wanted
with our committee was very suspicious because
why would she ever of taken a expensive and
difficult present like a baby alligator from a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>
German which she once done, if not pro, her
own self?</p>
<p>But time for starting something had sure
come, if we was ever to get any lunch, so I
got them all seated and commenced—a little
weak in the knees which it was a good thing I
was seated, but strong in the voice, so as to
start the moral right—do you get me?</p>
<p>"Ladies of the Theatrical Ladies W.S.S.
Committee," I began, being determined not to
waste no time on formalities, which it has always
seemed to me that on such occasions a
lot of gas is used up in them which would have
run the machine quite a ways if applied properly.
We all knew we was the Theatrical
Ladies W.S.S. Committee and I was the
chairman, so why waste words making me it?
"Ladies," I says, "I have a letter from President
Wilson asking me to get to work, and so
have formed a committee to sell twenty-five
thousand dollars worth of War Savings
Stamps on the first of the month. I sat right
down and wrote him I would do it, and here we
are. Of course this being the twenty-eighth
of the month the notice is short. Probably he
didn't expect us really to get to work until next
month, but personally, myself, I think we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>
should surprise him by getting the money by
Saturday night, which Saturday night is the
first. Now, you Committee Ladies is here to
discuss how will we do it. I would be glad to
hear ideas, suggestions and etc."</p>
<p>Well, nobody said anything for a few minutes
only Ruby put a little powder on her nose
and looked at it critical in her vanity case
mirror, which well she might for Gawd knows
she had powder enough on her already. Then
Madame Broun, the Lady Baritone, cleared
her throat.</p>
<p>"I would be glad to give a recital," she said,
swelling up her neatly upholstered black satin
bosom, "and turn over the money it brings in.
I presume the Government would hire the
theatre for me."</p>
<p>"Well," I says, "that is a real nice suggestion
only not quite practical. You see it wouldn't
be right to ask the Government to pay for the
theater in case it was a wet Monday and only
a few came in out of the rain. Any more
ideas?"</p>
<p>The blond Dahlia sister spoke up then.</p>
<p>"Whatever you suggest goes with me,
Marie," she says, which was terrible sweet of
her, only it's a darn sight easier to give a proxy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>
than a good suggestion, which I did not however
mention, Blondie being a real fine Jewish
American and a willing worker as I well knew.</p>
<p>"I thought of course it was a benefit we
would give," put in Pattie in a voice which
just plain dismissed every other possibility. "I
have a new patter to 'Yankee Doodle' with a
red, white and blue spot on me, at front center
with the rest of the house dark. It ought to
go big about the center of the programme."</p>
<p>After which modest little suggestion she
sunk gracefully back into her seat and commenced
shadow-tapping the tune with her feet
under the committee table.</p>
<p>"Well, benefits is always possible," I said,
"and of course we could have it with admission
by W.S.S. only. But it's been done a lot and
three days ain't so very much time in which to
get it up in a way which would do your act
justice," I says.</p>
<p>"Ah! <i>cheries!</i>" says Mlle. DuChamp. "Mes
petites!" she says, whatever that was. "I have
zee gran' idea—perfect! I will make zee
speach on zee steps of zee Library of zee Public
at Forty-Second Street and Feeth Avenoo.
I will arise, I will stretch my han', I will call
out 'Cityonnes! 'Urry up queek! Your countree<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>
call you—Formez vos battillions!' and
while I make zee dramatic appeal zee ozzers
can collect twenty-five t'ousand dollar from zee
breathless crowd!"</p>
<p>She had got up on her box-toed shoes and
was making the grandest gestures you ever see.
Honest to Gawd I do believe that girl has
herself kidded into believing that the Paris she
was born in was France, not Ind. I kind of
waved at her, and when she had flopped back
into her place, completely overcome by her
emotions, I suggested that maybe the Library
wasn't as Public as it looked, being generally
occupied of a fine afternoon by wounded soldiers
making the same line of talk, and of
course Mlle. DuChamps would be more <i>chic</i>
and all that, but would she be let?</p>
<p>"Of course she wouldn't!" says Ruby, coming
out of her vanity-case for a minute. "Of
course not! My idea is that we all chip in say
about seven thousand five hundred and let it
go at that!"</p>
<p>Somehow this cheap-Jack way of getting
out of doing any work by spending a little
money, got my goat something fierce. Besides
which it was Ruby's idea of patriotism and all
against W.S.S. rules and everything, but for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>
the minute I was so floored I couldn't speak.
The dark Dahlia did it for me, though, and
much more contained than I could of at the
time.</p>
<p>"That's mighty generous, Miss Roselle," she
says just as sweet, "only you see me and Blondie
has each got our thousand dollars worth
and one person can't get more," she says.</p>
<p>"Well, I'll take a thousand dollars worth
then," said Ruby, and I could see very plain
that the matter was finished in her mind, and
what would you expect different after them patriotic
tights of hers?</p>
<p>"I'll take a thousand also," put in Madame
Broun. "To tell the right truth I haven't a
one. What do you do with them—stick them
on the backs of letters like Tuberculosis, or
Merry Xmas?"</p>
<p>Well, we explained they was not a additional
burden to the postman but more or less of a
investment. And then the awful truth come
out that Pattie hadn't none either and that
Mlle. DuChamps had always thought they was
to put on tobacco boxes and candy and everything
you stored up in the house to eat, though
Gawd only knows how she got that idea except
of course it's the truth that most people is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>
boobs, outside of their own line, more's the
pity!</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>Well, anyways, we took in four thousand
right then and there and so all that remained
was twenty-one. Ruby undertook to sell
another three among her personal friends, and
the Dahlias said they thought they could raise
as much more between theirselves. Then
when Mlle. DuChamps and Madame Broun
had concluded to take on three apiece there
was eleven thousand dollars worth of friendless
little stamps with nobody to love them but me.
Well, with no better schemes than benefits and
concerts and talks in sight, I see it was up to
me to bite off the biggest slice of pie myself,
so I said I'd take the remainder. Of course
with my influence and name and all I would of
had no trouble getting rid of them only by
asking prominent men like Goldringer and
Rosco and the Dancing Trust people beside a
few more personal ones. And then when we
had got this far I see some of the ladies commence
looking at their wrist-watches for other
reasons than to show they had them, and so
hustled up the last of the business which was
merely how would we print our forms for subscribers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>
to fill out. Ruby suggested a gilt-edge
card tinted violet with whatever lettering
I chose, and while I didn't care for it I agreed,
being hungry myself.</p>
<p>"I do think it is awful fine of you to take
on that big amount," said Pattie. "But you
always was generous, Marie, I will say that
for you."</p>
<p>"Ladies!" I said. "No thanks where they
dont belong. Because I am undertaking this
sale for far other reasons than you suppose."</p>
<p>But since everybody by then plainly cared
more for their lunch than my reasons we
parted, agreeing to send the money to my place
on Sunday morning.</p>
<h3>IV</h3>
<p>But I will here set down my unspoken reasons,
which was that fine as it is to walk out to
your rich friends and pluck a thousand worth
of stamps per each off them and of course nobody
but thinks the rich should have them, too,
I had a strong hunch that the reason for selling
stamps at five dollars or even two bits, was because
every one could get in on a good thing
that way. Somehow there seemed something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>
too up-stage about going in only for the high
spots, and after ordering the cards I hurried
home full of determination to make a stab at
selling to the common herd and with a terrible
appetite and anxious as could be over the one
o'clock mail.</p>
<p>Well, the last two was doomed to a immediate
disappointment because the censor was
sitting just as tight as ever and there was only
cereal for lunch. Believe you me it give me
sort of a jolt when I sat down to so little and
Ma's face was not any too cheering. We commenced
to eat in silence which being both perfect
ladies was the only thing to do as it was
also burned. But after a minute Ma lay down
on the job. She pushed her dish over toward
me in disgust.</p>
<p>"Try that on your piano, Mary Gilligan!"
she says.</p>
<p>"Well, Ma, you know what war is," I says.
"And we'll get a good meal at the Ritz to-night
to make up!"</p>
<p>Well, anyways, sustained more by patriotism
than by what I had eat, I set out to put
over a scheme I had all hatched out in my head
for using places which was already kind of organized,
as my selling agents—do you get me?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>
And the first place I went was to Maison Rosabelle's
because—believe you me—that cheap
dress I had bought off her needed a plastic surgeon
by then. Maison was as usual giving
a unconscious imitation of a trained seal,
switching gracefully around the store with a
customer which she was hypnotizing into all
forgetfulness of prices. But finally I got her
alone long enough to express what I thought
about the dress and any lady will be able to
imagine what that was. Then I asked her
could she fall in with my scheme which was on
Saturday to take only Thrift Stamps or
W.S.S. for each purchase and sell them the
stamps herself. Maison didn't enthuse over
the idea, though she's rich at that.</p>
<p>"Why, dearie! Not on a bet!" she said.
"It ain't that I'm not patriotic, but this establishment
is <i>exclusive!"</i></p>
<p>Well, I seen there was no use arguing with
her, and I guess there never is with a woman
which is marcelle-waved every day of her life,
not to mention that cheap fake of a dress.
Next one I buy of her without a guarantee will
be for her funeral! So I just left her flat and
went over to Chamberlin's. Of course it takes
a whole lot more brains to run a enormous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>
cabaret and restaurant like his than Maison
has to use if less nerve, he not coming personally
into contact with the customers like she
does, and I counted on this. I went in by the
main door where a lady sat selling W.S.S.
and she bored me to death with them while a
captain went to find Chamberlin. When I
seen him coming I tried to assume that
sprightly and convincing manner of the sidewalk
W.S.S. hounds, but was overcome with
that deep seated sense of being about to make
a flivver, which also shows on most of them.
However, Chamberlin was a genial good soul
and was crazy over stamps. But he had beat
me to it on the admission only by buying
stamps on Saturday night.</p>
<p>"Better try among your rich friends, Miss
La Tour!" he says. "And you'll be surprised
how many you'll sell. That's the easiest way
unless you use a gun!"</p>
<p>"I don't want to sell to my friends," says I.
"I want to sell to everybody—get folks to chip
in. The chipping-in idea is what is so good—get
together and all that."</p>
<p>Well, believe you me—after this I tried a
dozen places and every one of them, stores and
all, where I had any influence or charge account,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>
had got theirselves so full of W.S.S.
schemes that I felt like a helpless babe in arms
as the poet says, before I was through. There
was no room for my little $11,000 worth any
place: they had all stocked up, and what to do
next I had no idea.</p>
<p>On the way to the Ritz that night Ma didn't
talk steady like she usually does and seemed
kind of low in her mind, and maybe in her
stomach also which I was the same by then.
Not to mention the censor which it is better not
to for fear I might say what I thought and he
a Government official.</p>
<p>But anyways no sooner was we inside the
hotel than two society swells tackled us for
W.S.S. Oh, they was democratic, just! They
spoke right to us, and everything! But my
goat was got by it.</p>
<p>"A regular hold-up!" I whispered to Ma.
And as I spoke them fateful words I remembered
that I owned a gun, which it was left
from a piece I done for the movies and I had
kept it for a souvenir. Of course I dismissed
the thought at once like the sensible woman
I am. But somehow it wouldn't exactly stay
away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p>
<p>Did you ever get to seeing things as they
really was and wondering why on earth people
go through such a lot of motions pretending
things is not what they seem, as some guy so
truly says—do you get me? As soon as I had
said "hold-up" I realized that that was just
what was being done. And when I realized
that it was <i>necessary</i> to hold up people in order
to get them to make a safe investment which
would earn them a good net profit while saving
their fool lives, I got so raving mad that
a gun seemed too good for them. And mad at
myself, too, for not seeing sooner how much
my own Jim's welfare was hanging onto my
shoulders. Somehow up to then I had really
a idea that the bunch down in Washington was
relieving me of all trouble and responsibility
about this war. But now I seen it wasn't so.
If the G.A.P. or Great American People was
actually such boobs that they didn't flock up
and wish their life savings onto such a scheme,
they had ought to be made to, same as Ma used
to hold my nose for my own good and believe
you me—I can taste that oil to this day!</p>
<p>Well, anyways, this philosophy stuff kept
going through my mind while running up a
considerable check which Gawd knows we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>
needed it or the undertaker would of conscripted
us. And then all of a sudden who did
I see but Ruby Roselle only two tables away
and with her a husky young lounge-lizzard
which goes around with her a lot—you know—one
of the kind whose favorite flower is the
wild oat, but never has anything to spend but
the evening. And him and Ruby had their
heads together and was watching me like the
German spies in a movie which every one in
the audience spots except their victims which
of course are looking at the director close up
front which is certainly the only reason they are
fooled.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, I was surprised to see Ruby
because Broadway places is more her speed,
and I never see her in such refined surroundings
before. But I realizing about her kind
of patriotism I commenced wondering wasn't
she there to watch me? Though for what reason
I had no idea.</p>
<p>That night after the show, I asked Goldringer
wouldn't he use the admission by W.S.S.
Saturday, and he wouldn't because he had it
on for one of his other theatres. And so I
went home in despair and a taxi, and was further
cheered by a empty letter-box.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p>
<p>In the morning the cards come—a thousand
of them—and certainly more elegant looking
than I had expected, I will say that for Ruby
and reading as follows:</p>
<p>"The Theatrical Ladies W.S.S. Committee
will deliver to ............ of ............
worth of W.S.S. stamps on presentation of this
card. Payment for same is hereby acknowledged."</p>
<p>Then came a blank which it was up to me
to fill in. Well, I didn't hesitate and after a
hearty breakfast of crackers and milk and
weak tea, I tied up the lace sleeves of my negligee
and set to work at signing them. Believe
you me, before I was done I quite see why
President Wilson used a rubber stamp! But
I didn't weaken until noon, when any one
would have on the meal I'd had. And by then
they was finished anyways and every one of
them valid and as good as my cheque. Then
just as I was feeling proud of myself in come
Ma and I could see at once she was going to
take a fall out of me in her sweet womanly
way.</p>
<p>"If you ain't too busy with your war work,"
says Ma very gentle but firm, "I'd like to talk
to you about something before we set down to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>
the skeleton lunch which is waiting and can
be continued in our next for all I care!" she
says.</p>
<p>Well, I got that gone-around-the-middle
feeling which I always get when Ma gives me
a certain look, just like I used to when she'd
tell me soap was good for washing out the
mouths of kids which had told a lie. And so
I just set there and listened.</p>
<p>"Now, Mary Gilligan," she commenced.
"Do you know the size of the cheque you signed
over to the hotel last night?"</p>
<p>"About twelve-fifty," I says sort of getting
a glimmer.</p>
<p>"When your Pa and me was married he give
me twelve a week for all our meals!" she says,
and set back and folded her hands in a way
which said all she hadn't.</p>
<p>"But times has changed," I says sort of
feeble.</p>
<p>"But appetites has not!" says Ma. "And
how can you keep in good training on this war-nonsense?"
she wanted to know. "Not to mention
me, which it might improve my figure but
never my disposition?"</p>
<p>"But how about making war sacrifices and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>
all, Ma?" I says. "Jim ain't eating like we
done up till yesterday!"</p>
<p>"Nor he ain't eating twelve dollar dinners at
the Ritz, neither," she reminds me, at which of
course I shut up and she went on. "Now I
dont believe being stingy to ourselves is really
gonner help the war. You have strode in
upon my department for once, Mary Gilligan,
and I'm going to put you out! You don't
know where to economize and I do. No more
eating out, and a good sensible table at home,
minus cream cakes," she says, "is what we do
from now on!"</p>
<p>And with that she marches out leaving me
flat as one of her own pan-cakes. Well, this
was bad enough, but when Musette got after
me as I was dressing to go for my five miles,
I seen that my humbling for the day was not
finished.</p>
<p>"That dress Madam bought yesterday," she
began.</p>
<p>"You can have it!" I said, beating her to it,
or so I thought.</p>
<p>"Thank you, I do not care for it," says
Musette. "I was just remarking it is really
not fit to wear again. Madam would of done
better to pay a little more!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p>
<p>Can you beat it? You can not! Two falls
from one pride! Believe you me I took <i>some</i>
walk that afternoon, and if I had wore a speedomiter
I bet it would have registered a lot over
five miles. And while I was walking I kept
getting madder and madder and more and
more worked up over what boneheads people
was and how was a person to economize nowadays
and how on earth would I sell all them
stamps by Saturday night with a matinée in
between and keep my promise to President
Wilson? It begun to look like I was going to
have to become one of them sidewalk pests. I
got a real good picture of myself going up to
the proud or pesky passer-by, and getting
turned down so often that my spirit was bent
thinking of it.</p>
<p>But—believe you me—I made up my mind
that if I had to hold up anybody to make
them invest in the World's Soundest Securities
or W.S.S. I would hold them up good and
plenty and no disguise about it. I thought
again about my revolver, the one which I had
used it in the movies when I done "The
Dancer's Downfall" for them and kept it for
a souvenir. I was that wrought up over the
situation that by the time I got home I had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>
pretty near decided I'd take that fire-arm to
the theatre and lock the doors and come down
front center and shoot out one of the lights to
show I meant it and then take the money right
off the audience. The theatre being my native
element it seemed only natural to pull the trick
there, only being a lady the gun really did look
a little rough only not more so than the public
deserved.</p>
<h3>V</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">Well</span>, anyways, I was certainly up against
it with all them blanks still on my hands and no
way in sight of getting rid of them. And just
to make things nice and pleasant, what do I see
when I come on the stage that night but Ruby
Roselle and her pet lounge-lizzard which were
sitting in a box. She certainly seems to go in
for reptiles for pets. And no sooner did I get
off after my eighth curtain call, than around
she comes to my dressing room and hands me a
check for her stamps and for the ones she had
undertaken to sell and already had.</p>
<p>"I suppose yours is all sold too!" says Ruby.
"You are so efficient, dearie!"</p>
<p>"Oh, mine are all right!" I snapped. "Or
will be by this time to-morrow."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span></p>
<p>"Why, ain't they gone?" she cooed. And
did I wish for my gun? I did! "Ain't you
give any of them cards out yet?" she says.</p>
<p>"No!" I says. "But I will—I'll commence
with you, dear Miss Roselle," I says. "And
here you are"—and I filled out the receipt
cards which I had a few in my vanity case for
emergencies, and give them to her. When she
took them I noticed she had a awful funny look
in her eye, but at the time it meant nothing to
me. Alas! Would I had heeded it more—but
no—solid ivory! Solid ivory! I passed it up
completely. And Ruby grabbed the cards,
collected her new pet animal, and went away.</p>
<p>Well, my state of mind that night was distinctly
poor, even after the nice little well-ballanced
war-ration of hot chocolate and corn
bread with brown sugar which Ma had for me
and delicious as anything you ever ate if she
did get the recipe out of a newspaper and they
so unreliable nowadays. But no letter from
Jim, and so after I had asked Ma if she
thought it was right to wear black, I went to
bed and fell into a exhausted sleep which
lasted well on toward the box-office man's
afternoon on, because Ma always lets me sleep
late when I have to dance twice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p>
<p>Well, anyways, I was so rushed getting to
the theatre for the matinée that I hadn't no
time to try any of that sidewalk stuff, only I
did get a cheque from each of the other committee
members and told Ma to send them receipt
cards. And did I feel cheap? I <i>did!</i>
A flivver, that was what I had made. But
so long as Jim was surely dead by now, I didn't
care for myself. Only my promise to Mr.
Wilson made a lump in my throat while doing
my three hand-springs and the "Valse Superb,"
which shows how bad I felt. And what
do you know, when I took my encore, there was
Ruby Roselle again, down in front and all
alone.</p>
<p>This got about the last butt out of my goat
and I sent an usher to get her, but Ruby had
went before the usher had made up her mind
to undertake the mission. I was just about
wild all the way home, and the sight of Ma's
face when I got there almost made me cry it
was that sweet and friendly. Honest to Gawd
when Ma has got her own way about anything
she is just lovely to be with! And having
got the kitchen back and the grandest dish of
baked beans all full of molasses and salt pork
for dinner, she was feeling fine and I was the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>
same under her influence and even let her play
"Sing Me to Sleep" with the loud pedal on
Jim's souvenir afterwards and never said a
word to her about it, though suffering while I
listened. And then it was time to go back to
the theatre and I took Musette and that whole
box of gilt edged securities which seemed no
good to nobody, but I took them, and a good
yet bad thing I did, for on the way downtown
I decided what to do, and when I got there,
called the ushers and gave them instructions
and a little something else by way of promoting
kindly feelings. And then with beating
heart I beat it for the dressing room and commenced
rubbing on my make-up cream with
trembling fingers.</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>Did you ever make one of them critical decisions
which you knew in your heart you was
actually going to carry it through and no
camouflage, even if it killed you and it very
likely to? Well, when I decided to make a
speech right out in public I got that feeling—do
you get me? And any Elk or other lodge
member which attends annual banquets will
know what I mean. Honest to Gawd I nearly
missed my cue, and after I finally got on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>
stage the dance I did must of been either automatic
or a inspiration and I don't know why
they liked it out in front, but they did. All I
personally myself could hear was "Ladies and
Gentleman, I want to speak a word to you,"—You
know! And hand-springs in between!
Well of course when I come out for my first
encore I didn't have the wind to say nothing—But
my eyes was as good as ever and there in
a box was Ruby Roselle again!</p>
<p>Believe you me—that was a jolt and a half!
Here she had come to give me the laugh I had
no doubt, and somehow after the second call
my wind was all of a sudden back good and
strong, and with it came my courage. For I
wouldn't of been downed by her, not for anything!</p>
<p>So stepping foreward in a modest manner
I held up my hand and the house got quiet
and listened. As I have said, the show was at
the Spring Garden, and it's awful big and I
had never knew how full of silence it could be
until I heard the sound of my own voice all
alone in it. But after a minute I got used to
it, and so interested in trying to convince the
folks, that I didn't care.</p>
<p>"Ladies and Gentlemen," I says. "This is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>
going to be a plain, good old-fashioned hold-up!
If you listen hard, maybe you'll hear the
screams of the women and children, and the
groans of the wounded pocket-books! Far be
it from me to do anything so unrefined as to
actually use a gun on you," I says, "but I'm
going to do the next thing to it. I'm going
to sell eleven thousand dollars worth of W.S.S.
right here and now, and you are going to buy
them. I know all of you has probably been
buying them all day and is sick of them, but I
have personally promised President Wilson to
do as much by to-night without fail and you
must help me make good. And no matter how
many you have bought," I says, "unless you
have a thousand dollars worth you can spend
another ten or so apiece. Now, as I say, I
know this is a hold-up, because it is meant to
be. And any public which can sit here in a
theatre and feel anoyed at having to buy a few
stamps when a million of our boys is over in
far-away, sort of unreal France, giving their
lives, had ought to have a machine gun turned
on them from this stage instead of a line of
talk! Probably this is the first time in the
history of finances that it has been necessary
to jolly a crowd into making a good investment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>
If I was selling stock in a fake gold
mine," I says, "you would probably be climbing
on the stage to get it! Now will everybody
willing to take ten dollars worth kindly stand
up?"</p>
<p>There was a few laughs, and a few people
got up here and there, sort of shamefaced.</p>
<p>"Come on!" I says. "Come on—are you
all cripples? You over there—only ten dollars—save
it on next months grocery bill—all
right—save it on your auto bill!"</p>
<p>A few more got up then, but not nearly
enough and I caught sight of Goldringer in
the wings by then and not having warned him
what I was going to do, I could tell by his expression
that I mustn't hold the stage too long
or a militaristic system would right away be
born in our theatre. So I got desperate.</p>
<p>"No more!" I called. "Oh, come on get up!
Will I send for crutches, or are you only shy?
Remember, I got that money promised! Only
ten dollars each!"</p>
<p>But no more stirred. For a minute I
thought my flivver was complete, and then I
got a idea. I went over and beckoned to
George, the orchestra leader, and shaking all
over at my own nerve, I whispered to him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>
George grinned and passed along the whisper
to his crew, and in another minute that audience
was standing, every last one of them, and—believe
you me—the Star Spangled Banner
had never sounded so good to me before!</p>
<p>Well, anyways, my pep all come back and I
jumped off the stage as I see the ushers
couldn't possibly handle the orders alone, and
wait or no wait, the way that audience took
my hold-up was something grand, it was that
good natured, although of course a Broadway
crowd gets sort of hardened to having their
money taken away from them roughly. They
was lambs, and took cards so fast I couldn't
have shuffled them good if it had been a game.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, when I finally got back to
my dressing-room and the trained animals had
come on at last—believe you me—I was all in,
but not a card left, and not alone eleven thousand
dollars but thirteen-fifty in actual cash!
I didn't worry none about having too much as
I never see a committee yet which couldn't use
more money than it had ast for, the White
Kittens always having a deficit. And then I
just put the boodle away safe in my tin make-up
box which I had emptied because it locked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>
good, and took me and Musette and it home
to Ma.</p>
<p>Well, that was about all for that, and I had
a fine sleep that night after sending the President
a wire telling him I had the money all
right. And if only the censor had loosened
up, I would have been perfectly happy, with
all that cash in my little Burglar's Delight
over the mantle-piece and a good real energy-making
breakfast coming to me in the morning.</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>But alas for false security, as the poet says.
No sooner had Ma and me ate breakfast next
morning than in came Musette and says there
are two gentlemen outside wants to see me.
Well, it seems they wouldn't give their names
so I says show them in for on account of Ma
always making us dress in real clothes for
breakfast Sundays, it was alright.</p>
<p>Well, in come two gentlemen then, and it
was easy to see one was a cop. Why he didn't
have green whiskers or something I dont know
because the one citizen you can always spot is
a cop, and that tweed suit was no disguise, although
he seemed to think so. I got a awful
funny feeling in my stomach at this sight although
there was nothing on my mind but my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>
hair pins. The other was a gentleman and no
disguise about him, and I sort of took to him
right away and dropped my society-comedy
manner which is such a good weapon of defense
against strangers because I knew right
away he would see through it on account of him
being the real thing.</p>
<p>"Miss LaTour?" he says politely.</p>
<p>"Yes," I says, "what can I do for you?"</p>
<p>"Alias Mary Gilligan?" says the cop, which
was right in character and hadn't ought to of
got Ma's goat like it done.</p>
<p>"Alias nothing!" says Ma. "Gilligan is
her right name and you can see my marriage
certificate and the date is on it plain!"</p>
<p>"Better leave this to me for a moment,
O'Rourke," says the nice gentleman, about
Pa's age, he must have been. Then he turns
to me while the cop took a back seat.</p>
<p>"Miss LaTour," the gent. began, "I am
one of the local W.S.S. committee—Pioneer
Division—Pierson Langton is my name. And
I have come to see you concerning your sale
last night!"</p>
<p>Well—believe you me—the minute I heard
his name I had him spotted! One of the F. F.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>
V's of N.Y. and I had often seen his name in
the paper with war-work and all.</p>
<p>"Do sit down, both!" I says real cordial.
"I am so glad to see you! It's kind of you
to come, because of course I was going to bring
you the money the first thing in the morning!
Just wait till I get my make-up box!"</p>
<p>And without giving him time to say another
word I hurried out and got it, the cop watching
me with his hand on his hip. When I
come back and give Mr. Langton the box and
key, he looked real surprised.</p>
<p>"Twenty-five thousand cash!" I says.
"Would you mind counting it?" He give me
one of the funniest looks I ever had handed out,
but he done like I asked. Then he got up, box
under one arm, and bowed, and sat down again.</p>
<p>"Miss LaTour," he said. "I think I win
a bet with our friend O'Rourke, here! I was
sure you were all right. Your reputation was
on the face of it too valuable for such an open
fraud. And your utter disingenuousness is
the final proof!"</p>
<p>"Fraud! What do you mean?" I gasped.</p>
<p>"There's been a complaint about your selling
W.S.S. without no authority!" says O'Rourke
at this. "Entered last night by Miss Ruby<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>
Roselle. We got your cards here, that she
handed in. But you ain't got no stamps! I
dont know but what we ought to make a arrest,
Mr. Langton!"</p>
<p>"I will be obliged to you if you will let the
matter drop for the moment," says Mr. Langton.
"This young lady acted in good faith, I
am convinced. And now, Miss LaTour, perhaps
you will tell us how this all came about?"</p>
<p>Well, did I tell him? I did! I never told
anything readier. And then I took out the
President's letter which I had it on me, and
told how I had writ to him at once, partially
because I couldn't read the other fellows name.</p>
<p>"I accept the reproof," said Mr. Langton.
"I will get a rubber-stamp to-morrow!"</p>
<p>Then his eyes twinkled at me in the nicest
way, and I twinkled back, and after that I
knew the cop hadn't a chance of running me in,
which was a big relief, for my hands felt like
a couple of clams, about then, I was so scared.</p>
<p>"So you ain't mad?" I says to Mr. Langton.</p>
<p>"Not a bit!" he says. "I think it can all
be straightened out. But of course you understand
that what you did was a trifle—er—irregular.
If you will come down to headquarters
to-morrow and meet the members of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>
our board, we will be glad to assist you in forming
a more regular organization."</p>
<p>And I said I would, and then we all said
good-by real friendly, even the cop. And I
felt awful sort of excited and scared and glad
that Ruby had pulled that stuff, for if she
hadn't I might actually of gone to jail, I could
see that plain enough now! And so, to let off
a little steam when they had all gone I sat
down to my souvenir and started off "Over
There in Four Handed Arrangement." Then
just as I had got it going good, Ma, who was
reading the Sunday paper, gave a holler. I
turned around quick, and there her eyes was
popping out of her head and glued to the front
page.</p>
<p>"Jim!" she shrieked. "My Gawd!"</p>
<p>Well, how I reached that paper I don't
know, but somehow I did and there it was right
in the middle column.</p>
<blockquote><p>"American Dancer Now An Ace. James
La Tour Brings Down Three Enemy
Planes In One Afternoon."</p></blockquote>
<p>Oh, my heavens! Didn't I yell, just! And
me knocking the newspapers and the censor.
And all the time Jim had been merely too busy
to write!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2>III</h2>
<h2>HOLY SMOKES</h2>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h3> I</h3>
<p class="author">
Palatial Apartments,<br />
0256 Riverside Drive,<br />
New York City,<br />
U. S. A. America.</p>
<p>(Kindly forward if on tower)<br />
Passed by censor.<br />
</p>
<p><span class="smcap">Dear Mary</span>:</p>
<p>Well say little one, I am certainly glad
your health, new contracts and the two
fool dogs is both doing so nicely and as for the
cigarettes they were O.K. not to say swell.
Only dearie, it ain't hardly necessary to have
my monogram on the next lot for Fritz has
never waited for me to catch up to him so's I
could offer him one and he's about the only
person would be impressed by the J. La T. because
our own boys kid me about any little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>
thing like that on account of their knowing me
to be your dancing-partner and not to mention
husband and they are still slow to realize
that it takes a real he-man to swing you around
my neck twenty times like we do in the Tango
de Lux, and I have to continually keep showing
them.</p>
<p>Then another good reason for no gold monogram
is that the price of same would cover
quite a bunch of cheap smokes and dearie handing
them about is more to me than my own personal
vanity and would be the same with my
shirts if necessary, while over here in distant
Belgium I realise it was also a waste to have
them embroidered on the sleeve because the
dam chinaman always used to mark them up
with monograms of his own anyways.</p>
<p>Speaking of money we used to spend on un-essentials
before the war, I tell you dearie we
certainly learn in the army, especially since
getting into this recaptured territory, that
many objects we would have swore could not
be done without is laid off like the extra people
after the ball-room scene and nobody misses
them until somebody sends over one of them—like
them monogramed smokes of yours. Immediately
I got them I commenced to think<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>
about little old B'way and dry-martinis and my
little old roadster with the purple body and the
red wheels, and us dancing at the palatial with
the juice full on us, red and green, violet and
amber. Oh Kid! it made me home-sick!! But
then we got a order to start on cleaning up
after them Botches again and so I forgot
everything but you and my new step—which
was forward, double line!</p>
<p>Well, sweetie, now about this smokes question.
Of course your Ma having been with
the circus is used to giving up things, as naturally
in a trapese-act such as hers used to be
she would need all the nerve she had and even
eating a welsh rabbit would of been a wild
party to her. The center ring is no joke and
forty feet above it on a trapese from the center
canvas less so. But trapese work has not
yet been offered to the Allies except mebbe
Itily on them mountains and any lady which
starts a society to keep smokes from soldiers
may be strong in morals but is surely weak in
the head, which I never knew your Ma to be
before. She being always not only a lady but
a great little picker on contracts and what
would we of done without her that time Goldringer
tried to slip the "satisfactory to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>
Goldringer Theatrical Productions Corp."
stuff over on us and she spotted it?</p>
<p>But for the love of liberty can this idea of
hers about it not being good for the boys to
smoke and make her quit worrying about us
tearing around France learning no new sins.
For sweetie the crimes a man can committ on
whats left of his pay after the alotment is took
out and the insurance and the liberty bonds
instalments would be sanctioned by anybody
in the country even if his coller buttoned up the
back. For take it or leave it, liquor, ladies
and lyrics is as expensive here as north of 42nd
str., and our pay dont go for them even after
distracting the above.</p>
<p>Why me and a fellow went off on leave to
a general store in a town which I couldn't spell
for you much less mention it, even if permitted.
But anyways we went to it and Mac
bought some winterweights and they was four-fifty
a pair and no better than the U.S. seventy-five
cent kind, and I got two pair socks a
dollar per each and two bananas for 25c, which
only goes to show everything here is terrible
expensive except nessessaties. So dont let your
Ma worry over me spending my remaining
nickel on vice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p>
<p>I note what you say about the way folks at
home get your goat by passing the buck on
war-reliefs—if it's chocolet they say they've
just given to tobacco, if it's tobacco they just
bought a W.S.S., and if it's W.S.S. they
just got a hatful of bonds, or if it's bonds they
just give their last cent to chocolet—passing
the buck all along the line. Well dearie, I
guess mebbe that's their way of getting a little
war-relief of their own, but as you say why
would they need any relief when the fact that
they are for the most part without cooties ought
to be relief enough in itself? Let alone having
to dodge only taxi cabs and bill-collectors
instead of shells. Only of course we dont have
to do that now, only shell-holes, and dodge
them in a hurry to get one last look at the German
army before it puts on its good old soup
and fish—or whatever the German for civilized
clothing is, that is if they have any.</p>
<p>But you are right girlie, to boost the smokes.
We'll need them for a long while yet. I know
you have been obliged to keep your own from
your Ma and what with not really caring for
peppermints it has been hard all these years.
But while her trapeese work stood alone in its
day and no one on Broadway is more respected<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>
at this writing and as a mother-in-law I have
no complaint on her outside of her wearing
my dress-pumps, this one time she is dead
wrong. Soldiers are not always acrobats and
they do need to smoke and your Ma will put
herself in the small-time reform class if she
dont look out. When I think of the stuff I
seen up and down Broadway and elsewhere in
my days which could be reformed and no one
miss it, I get hot when I hear this talk about
keeping the army pure. Take it or leave it,
but the truth is the Huns has kept us pure
alright—they sweat all the wickedness out of
us running after them.</p>
<p>But to get back to the tobacco stuff. Dont
let nothing hinder you from bothering everybody
you see to send smokes. We'll use 'em
up never fear! And if you was to be walking
down the Avenue or mebbe Broadway sometime
and a box in your hand and asking for
Smoke Funds or something whichever way its
done—and your Ma was to fight her way
through the howling mob which would undoubtedly
be surrounding you on account of
course the best known parlor-dancing act in
America and the world wouldn't walk out looking
for funds and not draw a mob which was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>
only too glad to see you for five cents in the
smoke-fund-box instead of two dollars in the
box office—well, anyways, if your Ma was to
force her way through this mob which with her
weight she could do easily, why she would forgive
you in the end if not right there on the
street, and I believe that a hand-organ would
start and play hearts and flowers at that.</p>
<p>Anyways, keep up the good work only never
mind the monograms as long as they taste like
tobacco and can be lit. And if you fall out
with Ma just tell her this story which I will
tell you and she will see mebbe God didn't
put tobacco in the world merely for little slum
children to pluck on their two weeks vacation
in all its green beauty.</p>
<p>Well, the story is like this sweetie, and I will
write it as good as I can and if it seems comicle
go ahead and get a good laugh only take it
or leave it, it was no comedy at the time. But
if you was to news it around mebbe the folks
at home would start dropping something beside
coppers in them soda-fountain boxes you
was talking about, and commence trying to
squeeze a quarter through the slot now and
again. Come to think of it, the biggest thing
a copper penny can buy is the feeling a person<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>
gets from dropping one in a Belgium milk
bottle or home for crippled children or Merry
Xmas for the Salvation Army. You know
the cheap chest it gives you. Many a liberty
bond has been left in the Govts. hands by a
prospective buyer stumbling on a "drop a
penny" box in a cigar store on his way to the
cupon-cutters, or I miss my guess. I've done
the same in my day and the man who says he
aint raised his own stock with himself by giving
a nickle to the Newsboys Annual Outing is
as big a liar as the guy which says he never
loved another girl. And if pennies was to be
cut out of the currency a whole lot of cheap
philanthropists would have to make their conscience
work or fight.</p>
<p>Well, anyways you go right on boosting the
smoke-fund and never mind Ma. She'll learn
different some day.</p>
<p>Now about this story I was going to tell you.
First off leave me explain that the drinking
regulations over here is different to uniforms
than on the Rialto and America. I hunch it
that the managers and booking agents and so
forth in the U. S. Military Amusements Co.
inc. figure that a few of the rules have to be
let down while the big show is on. Same as the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>
stars can lean against a No Smoking sign on
the big time and roll a makin's quite openly.
So when on leave and even sometimes in the
dressing-room or I should say rest-billets a
bottle of wine is not out of order. Very different
sweetie, from the night Goldringer gave
me in my uniform the big send off at the Ritz
with all the newspaper bird and the leads and
everybody and me and you the only sober person
present, do you remember?</p>
<p>Well, its no news to you to say that I havent
forgot I am a professional dancer and good
condition is my middle name for my future, not
to mention my present contract with Uncle
Sam and that a sober man is worth more to
both—also to you and myself.</p>
<p>But the Allies dont look on liquor like we
do. As a matter of fact they seldom look on
what we would call liquor at all, hardly ever
getting a glympse of anything hard such as
rye, scotch or gin, and a cocktail being practically
a stranger and a repulsive one at that to
them. But wine is something different again.
Which while with us it is the high sign for a
big party and flowing only in extremely good
classes such as at the lobster layouts—leaving
aside dago spaghetti parlors when folks is resting—with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>
them it is a common matter and
everybody drinks it and while there aint much
kick to it, still it has it all over the water we
get and coming under their idea of necessities,
is low in price. Of course by wine I do not
mean champagne like we used to for publicity
purposes order for our dinner in public, but
stuff made out of common grapes, I guess,
and with the seltzer left out.</p>
<p>Well, dearie, the reason I hand you all this
info. is that the story I am going to tell you got
started because of this wine. "In Venus Veritas"
you know or so they say, and I confess
that in trying to get a little kick out of the
stuff I got sort of lit and that's what caused
me the story.</p>
<h3> II</h3>
<p>Well, we was sort of waiting off stage as you
might call it, in a little town in Belgium, our
act having just been on and a pretty lively one
it was and the Captain give us a pretty good
hand on it, although as you know the audience
didn't wait for the finish but left us their orchestra
seats or front line trenches which we
moved into and then give up to the next number<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>
on the bill and come back to watch from
the wings, or would of only we was a little
too far off.</p>
<p>Well, the Capt. felt so good and the water
was so bad that he sent a delegation back for a
little liquid refreshment. They have big jugs
over here like the molasses is kept in at home
only here it is frankly boose and no one pretends
any different. And the game is this.
The one which volunteers for this dangerous
work, if broke himself, takes a swig or so out
of the jug he is bringing back which it dont
show on account of their not being transparent
and so the officer dont get any surprise until
toward the end of the jug and even so may
think he took more than he had thought. The
private will take only a little from each but if
there is jugs enough many a mickle makes
quite a jag.</p>
<p>Well, me and a fellow named McFarland
and a French kid called Ceasare was each given
two of these molasses jugs which looked like
props, and was sent off to a village some place
in congnito for you couldn't pronounce it.
And we was glad enough to go because among
other things we was short of smokes. Some
cleaver actor had accidintly lit the last mess<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>
fire with a bale of Virginias and there wasnt
hardly a smoke among us.</p>
<p>You just figure out how it would feel if
you was to have a bath and do your exercise and
eat a swell breakfast and then realise there
wasnt a pill in the house! Think sweetie, how
your brest would swell up with alarm, and the
royal fit you would throw while the elevator
boy was on his way to the corner drug store!
Why figure even the way you feel once you get
a cigarette in your face and then cant find a
match for two whole minutes. Well, take it
or leave it, I tell you that feeling is a whole lot
multiplied on the victorious fields of France
when little friend cigarette is notable by its
absence. A empty house on an opening night
is nothing to it. So you can see where me and
Ceasare and Mac was glad to get in the neighborhood
of one, leaving even all considerations
of the wine aside.</p>
<p>Well, we started out carrying each two jugs
and as we went the fellow which acts as usher,
or sentry on the road hollers at us do we know
the way and Ceasare and him jabbered at each
other in French in the remarkable fluent way
they do over here. And Ceasare laughed and
when we asked what it was he said the guy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>
told him to look out Fritz didnt get us on the
open road, which was certainly some joke for
of course we hadn't been able to get near
enough to Fritz to hear him in some time.
So we laughed, too, for if any snipers had managed
to stay behind and opened up on us we
could of spotted them and wiped them out if
they had kept it up.</p>
<p>Well sweetie, there wasnt any road exactly
toward the place we was bound for on account
of our having done considerable trespassing on
private property and taking little notice of
fences whether barbed-wire or civilian or shell-holes
or trenches but having went straight
ahead. And after the last 5 years on upper
Broadway you will realize it comes easy enough
to me, I often having come unharmed from the
Claridge to the Astor, and the French fields
has nothing on that crossing. So to me that
first part of the trip was as little or nothing
and I was the cheerfulist of the party though
we was all pretty cheerful and singing a little
song of Ceasare's which I dont know what it
means but I guess I'd better not write it in
for fear you would.</p>
<p>Well, it was late afternoon and awful cold
for the time of year, and I was thinking that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>
at home the frost was on the pumpkin and the
pumpkin would soon be in the pie and the
turkey was about to get the axe and Halloween
was due and a lot of nice things like that. And
after a lot of kilomets had been covered, we
come to the funny little town which looked like
the back-drop to the opening seane in a musical
comedy only all shot to pieces like it had
been on the road with a No. 2 company for a
long and successful tower.</p>
<p>Well, we come to it, anyhow, and being on
duty in a way as far as them jugs went—we
went with them and took what we could afford
our ownselves while we watched papa Ceasare
fill 'em up. Then the tobacco dept. claimed
our attention only to find there wasn't any!</p>
<p>Well, sweetie, I have tried to put over the
way I felt at these glad tidings and the censor
wouldn't of stood for it, so out she goes! But
I felt that way all right and so did Mac and
Ceasare.</p>
<p>"I'll no beleeve ut!" says Mack which he
talks a funny kind of way like Harry Lauder.
"I'll no beleeve ut—theer must be some someplace
aboot!"</p>
<p>"Say la guyer!" says Ceasare and gives a
shrug, although he was a lot more disappointed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>
than Mac on account of Mac's really caring
more for liquor than smoke any day. "Say
la Guyer!" he says, and asks his pa why it happened
and his pa tells him and he translates it
to Mac and me.</p>
<p>"He say a young lady have took it all only
hour ago for free to soldiers," he explains.</p>
<p>And take it or leave it, but I was certainly
a little sore for although I am the first to believe
in the other fellow getting it, still this time
we all felt like the other fellow was us, and no
doubt she had took it to the nearest camp or
hut, and so I ast which way was it she went
for mebbe we would get some of it. And then
come a big surprise.</p>
<p>"No 'ospitil here!" Ceasare explained again.
"An no 'ut! It ees too soon after we take it.
Then papa says she is first cross red lady we
have seen and she speak in French!"</p>
<p>"Well, that's funny!" I says—and of course
dearie you understand this had been enemy
ground only a little before and that there was
a wine-shop going was a miricle and only for
it being Ceasare's papa we wouldn't of got
none, which is how he come to be along with us.</p>
<p>Well, we all felt real sore and disappointed
but took it like a man for of course a red cross<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>
nurse would get it for the wounded and we had
our health.</p>
<p>So papa give us all another round and we
took the big molasses jugs and started off. It
was getting toward twilight and pretty cold
and I will say it give me sort of sore feeling
towards the folks at home and blamed them
for letting me be without a cigarette and you
know how it is about two drinks makes me
a little sore at things and I began to cheer up
after the third and this was early in the evening.</p>
<p>Not so Mac. He has a talent for drink.
Well, we had just about left the motion-picture
village behind us when he commenced
to sing and while I dont know what it was
about, I will put it down this time because you
wont know neither.</p>
<p>
<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"Fortune if thou'll but gie me still</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 3em;">Hale Breeks, a scone, an' whisky gill,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 3em;">An' rowth o' ryme to rave at will,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Tak' a' the rest,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="margin-left: 3em;">"An' deal 't about as they blind skill</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">Directss thee best."</span><br />
</p>
<p>Well, naturally we applauded which is
always safe when you don't understand a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>
thing, and it certainly was comical for Mac is
generally a quiet cuss and a tightwad as well.
Then I spoke up.</p>
<p>"These jugs is too heavy!" I says. "Let's
lighten 'em up a bit."</p>
<p>Well they thought so and we done it and
felt better and then I sang them:</p>
<p>
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">"Give me your love</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 5em;">The sunshine of your eyes!"</span><br />
</p>
<p>And both Ceasare and Mac commenced to
cry. Mac set down his jugs and we done the
same and then Mac done the most generous
thing I ever seen a Scotchman do even in
liquor. He reached inside his bonnett and
took out three cigarettes, shook the bonnett to
show they was actually the last, and give us
each one and one to himself.</p>
<p>Well, we all sat down on a old motor chassis
or what was left of it, and burned them smokes
like insense, not speaking a word! But putting
that red cross lady which had been ahead
of us out of our minds and thinking only of
how we was going to give Mac our next
packages from home when they come, and he
mebbe thinking of how he was going to get<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>
them. And then we all made our jugs a
little lighter and by this time it was pretty
dark and we commenced to hurry back. Before
we had went very far we had to hesitate
about which way. Because sweetie, take it or
leave it, what you write about getting lost in
the new subway has nothing on finding your
way about after dark by yourself in this part
of the world.</p>
<p>Well, Mac was sure we come one way and
I was sure we come another and Ceasare he had
a different hunch from either of us. So we all
took another little drink as it was getting
mighty cold by now, and in the end we started
off Ceasare's way because why wouldnt he
know best which way was right and him born
and raised right there on the farm? We
trusted to his judgment just like him and Mac
would of trusted me to tell the taxi-driver
where to go from Keens.</p>
<p>So we went like he said, but somehow we
didn't seem to get no place in particular although
we kept on going for a long time: I
couldn't say how long, but it seemed like a
Battery to Harlem job to me only by now I
loved everybody but Fritz and a sort of fog
had come up or so I thought, and we was all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>
singing, each our own sweet songs but at the
same time.</p>
<p>"Lets throw away a few of these jugs," I
remember saying—and really there was so little
in some of them it wasn't worth carrying
back so we just finished them off and threw
them away and then we come upon a little path—or it felt like it.</p>
<p>"Allou!" shouted Ceasare, "we are almost
there!" and with that we sure got the surprise
of our lifes, for rat-tat-tat-tat-tat come a sputter
of machine gun fire right at us.</p>
<h3> III</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">At</span> first we was very much jolted by this
though unhurt, and then we commenced to
think it was a joke. Here we was going in
behind our own lines and being fired upon.</p>
<p>"Shut up, ye dam fools!" Mac hollered.
"Can ye no recognize yer own people?"</p>
<p>Then Ceasare yelled in French, but they
paid no attention to us. <i>Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!</i>
it come again, and this time it made me real
mad. I figured that if they didn't quit their
nonsense somebody was liable to get hurt. So
I saved what was left in my last jug, threw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>
the thing away, and told Ceasare and Mac to
come on and leave us beat up the poor boobs
with the nasty sense of humor and show them
where they got off. Well, Mac and him
thought this was a good idea so they done like
I done and we ran up the little hill which we
could see our way pretty good in spite of the
dark because they never let up on us but kept
right on spitting fire. Well, we got very mad
by this time and to tell the truth I can't very
well recall just what did happen only when
we got to the gun the boys was German!</p>
<p>Well, take it or leave it, I aint had a jolt
like that since the night Goldringer raised
our salary of his own accord after we put on
the La Tour Trot. And I only wisht I could
remember more about what happened. But
for quite a few minutes I was terrible busy;
and I guess I better admit I was tight—awful
tight. Of course there was five of them and
only three of us, and equally of course we
licked them badly and took only one prisoner
but not being anything for a lady to read I
will not give particulars and anyways I dont
remember any. Of course it was one of them
few remaining nest of hornets which we had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>
joked about, but really hadn't believed was
there.</p>
<p>Well, when it was all over but the cheering
and we was sure these birds had been all by
their lonesome, we was pretty well sobered
and hot and everything. And the first thing
we done was take a look around in a few
places for tobacco. And take it or leave it—we
didn't find any! Not a smoke among the
lot! Watter you know about that?</p>
<p>But one good thing we got out of the scrap
was our senses back and it was easy enough to
spot about where our own lines would be. So
after we figured it out, and taking Fritz, the
one prisoner, along, we commenced to start off
that way and you can bet the poor boob was
glad to go with us. You would of thought he
had wanted to be with us all the time. Just like
after a election at home. Cant find anybody
who didnt vote the winning ticket. Which
joke you may not understand, sweetie, being a
lady, and I will not now stop to explain.</p>
<p>Well, we started back alright and as we
come, I got the story which I want to tell
you which commenced really when we come to
that old barn. Only I had to explain how we
come to be there or you wouldnt get the idea<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>
of what I am driving at for you to make your
Ma understand.</p>
<p>Ever since I fell out of my airplane and was
in the hospital and reenlisted the only place
they'd take me back was in the infantry, I done
a lot of thinking—and some of it stuff which
might mebbe sound awful queer coming from
me, especially after some of the language I
have been known to use in my day, and while
I hope I aint become mushy, I certainly do
believe there is more to religion and such
things than we have thought. Take it or
leave it, mighty few fellows have lived through
this war, far less fought through it, without
getting religion of some kind out of it. I wonder
can you get me? And make Ma get it too.
So I'll tell what happened and you see if miricles
is over yet or not for this is a true fact and
not a story somebody told me.</p>
<p>Well, after we cleaned up that machine gun
nest and had a cute little live German prisoner
of our very own, we took him down the hill with
us the best way we could in the dark and it full
of holes and what not. There wasn't a bit of
light—no moon nor stars nor nothing, and a
wet sort of smell that made us wish for a smoke
the way hardly nothing else is ever wished for,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>
except mebbe a motion-picture salary or a
drink of water after a big night—not on the
desert.</p>
<p>Well we got on pretty good because we was
nearly sober now and Ceasare he knew where
we was going, and this time he really did, and
so we kept up pretty good. It commenced to
rain a little and the big drops felt awful nice
against my cheeks which was burning hot.
Made me think of when I was a kid back in
Topeka and digging out to school and a pair
of red mittens I had which my mother had
made them—good knitting and well made like
the sweater I had on that very minute which
she also knit. And I thought of me and you
and our snow-scene when we done that dance
on the Small Time with the sleighbells on our
heels—remember dear? Before we had really
made good except with each other? And I
thought about love too and a lot of fool stuff
like that. And then I heard a funny sound
for thereabouts. It was a woman moaning
and crying.</p>
<p>Well, at first I thought mebbe I was crazy
or imagined it, but Mac who was walking in
front with our own little Fritz stopped short
and so did Fritz and listened. It come again<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>—the
most dismal thing you ever want to hear.
I turned to Ceasare and he had heard it.</p>
<p>"Say drool," he says, which means "Its
funny" only it wasnt and he didnt mean it that
way, but the other way. You know.</p>
<p>"It sure is!" I says. "There she goes again!"</p>
<p>"I think theers a wee bit housie over theere!"
says Mac.</p>
<p>"It is the barn of my cousin's uncle," says
Ceasare. "We better go look."</p>
<p>So with that we started across the road to
where sure enough was a funny little barn—stone
with a grass roof—peculiar to these
parts, I guess. The nearer we got the louder
the noise was, but no words to it, only sobbing
very low and despairing and sort of sick—and
a female—no doubt of it. There wasn't any
light nor anybody moving about as far as we
could tell.</p>
<p>"Gee! What'll we do?" I says in a whisper.
"We can't pass it up!"</p>
<p>"Naw—we mun tak' a look inside!" whispers
Mac.</p>
<p>"Certinmount," says Ceasare; "Mais—be
careful! We put the Boch in first and see if
some trick is up!"</p>
<p>It being Ceasare's cousin's uncle's barn he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>
knew where the door was, and the three of us
shoved Fritz up to it and made him understand
he was to open it and go in ahead of the
crew. We finally got it over with signs and
shoves, because the bird didnt speak nothing
but German and we hadnt a word of it among
us. But still we made him do it and he did,
and we pulled our guns and stood close behind
and I stood closest and pulled not alone my
gun but the little electric flashlight you sent me
which I flashed in as quick as the door was
opened.</p>
<h3> IV</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">And</span> take it or leave it—there was a woman
with a baby in her arms! She was rather a
young round-faced woman and that kid was
awfully little and held close under a big dark
cloak the woman wore. The poor soul looked
tired out and she had no hat and her hair was
all down. The inside of the barn was a wreck
and the rain was coming in through a big shellhole
in the roof. She was all alone, we at once
got that, and at sight of the German uniform
which was all she seen at first, she give a shriek
of joy and got up onto her feet.</p>
<p>"Got si danke!" she cried. "Ich habe——"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p>
<p>Then she seen the rest of us and shrunk back,
covering the kid with her cloak. Fritz said
something to her—quite a lot in a hurry, and
evidently told her he was a prisoner, and now
that she had spilled the beans, so was she. And
of course even under the circumstances, she
was. But take it or leave it, I certainly did
feel queer when I went up to that lady with the
little baby in that barn. For German or no
German the situation was—well—it certainly
got my goat. I took off my hat and made a
bow.</p>
<p>"Lady," I commenced, "have no fear. Don't
let us throw no scare into you. We ain't Huns—that
is, I beg your pardon, but what I mean
is you are perfectly safe and we will take care
of you."</p>
<p>Well, the way she looked at me would of
wrung a heart of stone. Her eyes was blue
and she just stared at me as if I had hurt her—which of course was far from any mind
there.</p>
<p>"Don't be scared," I says again. "You and
the baby will get good care. Just come with
us if you are able!"</p>
<p>When I spoke of the kid she give the poor
little smothered thing a quick look and drew<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>
her cloak around it closer. Gee! but she looked
fierce! She had quit crying but not a word
out of her!</p>
<p>"You try!" I says to Ceasare. "The poor
thing mebbe understands French."</p>
<p>So Ceasare, who was as much shot to pieces
at the sight as I was, come forward.</p>
<p>"Madame!" says he, bowing with his cap in
his hand. Then he shoots a lot of French
about restes, au succuoor, and stuff I know
meant "cut the worry." But she didnt get it
any better than she had my line of talk, and
only kept on looking scared.</p>
<p>Well by this time Mac come out of his stupor;
but there was no use trying Scotch on
her, that was plain. So there was nothing to
it except forward march. For one thing my
torch wouldnt of lasted much longer and for
another it sure was getting late.</p>
<p>"Does your cousin's uncle which owns the
barn have a house anywheres near, where we
could leave her?" I asked Ceasare.</p>
<p>"All dead in this town!" he says cheerfully.
"And this is the only building left I think it!"</p>
<p>"Then there's nothing to do but take her
along to headquarters," I says, and off we
started, she not saying a word.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p>
<p>That was some trip! I want to tell you
sweetie it was the worst part of the whole war
to me. You know I got a heart and I felt
just fierce for that poor little German mother.
All the way in, while we was helping her along
I kept wishing I knew how on earth she come
to get in that place. She seemed real feeble
at times and we lifted her across the worst
places. I tried to get her to let me carry the
baby, but she held on to it like grim death and
wouldnt leave any of us touch it—and it was
so quiet I commenced to get scared.</p>
<p>"More than likely its dead!" I whispered to
Ceasare and he thought so too.</p>
<p>Before we got in, we had carried her almost
a mile, taking turns with her on our crossed
hands, and the odd feller guarding our Hun.
And then we came to the end of about the very
worst and longest hike I ever took including
the time the Queen of the Island Company
got stranded in New Rochelle. The sentry
across that mud hole of a slushy road was the
welcomest sight in the world.</p>
<p>"Wot the 'ell yer got?" he says when he
recognized us.</p>
<p>"One Gentleman Hun prisoner and one lady
ditto in very bad shape!" I says.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>
<p>"Wot the 'ell!" he says again. And then
he passed us and we reported.</p>
<p>Say sweetie, take it or leave it, but I had
honest clean forgot all about that wine which
we had been sent for in the first place. I tell
you I was so worried about that poor woman!
And it was not until the five of us was standing
in Capt. Haskell's quarters with the light
from his ceiling glaring at us and him also
glaring from behind his mustache, that I even
commenced to remember it. But I had to report
so I reported for the bunch of us and in
strict detail as good as I could remember. All
this while the woman sat in a chair, her face
like a stone, and my heart just aching for her.</p>
<p>Well, when I got through taking the most
nervous curtin-call of my life—and take it or
leave it, if the German army would ever of
been as nervous as I was then, the war would
of ended that minute. Capt. Haskell beckoned
to the lady.</p>
<p>"Come here, please!" he says very kind.
"And let me see the baby!"</p>
<p>She got up and went over very softly. Then
she stood in front of him and commenced to
laugh and laugh.</p>
<p>"Pigs of Americans!" she said. "Fools to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>
carry me! That's not a baby—its twenty cartons
of cigarettes!"</p>
<p>Then she threw back her cloak and under it
there she was dressed in Red Cross uniform.</p>
<p>"I disguised myself and went to the village!"
she went on in perfectly good English.
"And I bought all the tobacco there.</p>
<p>"On my way back to my own lines I was
fool enough to lose my way and to cry over
it! That is all!"</p>
<p>And its enough, aint it dear? For you do
get me, dont you? Them twenty cartons of
cigarettes was a miricle to us and the one we
needed the most of any right at that moment.
Eh, what? as the English say. And her taking
such a chance to get them for Fritz shows
how bad off the German army must be, don't
it? And so tell this to your Ma and get her
to quit that foolish anti-smoke society she's
forming—because its the bunk—and I am ever
your loving life and dancing partner,</p>
<p class="author">
<span class="smcap">Jim</span>.</p>
<p>P. S. Just got your letter. That certainly
is a good one on Ma. Smoking a pipe! And
if you hadnt opened the door so sudden you'd
never in this world of caught her. And if she
does claim her grandmother did it too, all you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>
got to say is so did many a soldier's grandmother.</p>
<p>P. S. No. 2. I forgot to say that a French
General has given us a kiss on both cheeks and
a medel for that job. And its the first time
I ever got anything but a headache by going
on a party.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2> IV</h2>
<h3> ANYTHING ONCE</h3>
<h3> I</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">Aint</span> it funny the things that comes into a
person's head when they are rubbing cold
cream onto their nose? All sorts of stuff,
some of it good sense and some of it the bunk.
But most of it pretty near O.K. If some one
was to take down the ideas I get at such a sacred
hour, I'd be out of the dancing game and
into the highbrow class just as quick as the
printer got through his job.</p>
<p>It sure is a time when a woman's true
thoughts come to the surface along with the
dust and last night's make-up, and many a big
resolve has been made owing to that cleanly
habit. Wasn't there some wise bird made up
a quotation about cleanliness being next to
God knows what? Well, believe you me, its
the truth, for once a woman starts in with the
cold cream all alone,—and she sure does it at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>
no other time—there is no telling what will
come of it beside a clean pink face.</p>
<p>With me personally myself, thats where
most of my ideas about life come from—right
out of the cold cream tube! And while indulging
in this well known womanly occupation
the other evening I commenced thinking
about rest and how important it is for us
Americans—and of the way we go after it—like
it was something we had to catch and catch
quick or it would get away from us. Do you
get me? If not, leave me tell you what a
friend of mine, which has just been mustard
out of the service says to me, when I was
checking up his experiences abroad while he
was checking up what the waiter had put down.</p>
<p>"My idea of rest?" he says. "Why taking
Belleau Woods after three restless weeks in
the trenches," he says.</p>
<p>Which sort of puts the nut in the shell, as
the saying is. And also at the same time reminds
me of the rest I just recently took.</p>
<p>Not that I generally need one any more
than any other thoroughly successful star, for
heavens knows the best known parlor dancing
act in the world and Broadway, which mine undoubtedly
is, dont need to rest because the managers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>
theirselves always come after me and
resting I leave to the booking-agency hounds.
But this time it was bonea fido, and come about
in a sort of odd way.</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>To commence at the start it begun with me
falling for the movies, which Gawd knows I
only done it for the money, their being no art
in it, and they having hounded me into them
for a special fillum. And of course many well
known girls like Mary Garden and Nazimova
go into pictures and even myself, but its simply
because of being hounded, as I say. But
once in you earn your money, believe you me,
and I have stood around waiting for the sun
like Moses, or whoever it was, until my feet
nearly froze to the pallasades before jumping
off, only of course it was a dummy they threw
after I had made the original motions of the
leap to death. And the worst part is once
you are signed up on one of these "payment
to be made wheather the party of the first part
(thats me) is working or not" you got to do
like they say, and a whole lot of the "not working"
means plain standing around waiting for
the director or the camera-man or the rain to
quit, and what us public favorites suffers when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>
on the job is enough to make the photographor's
Favorite of Grainger, Wyo., abandon
the career she might of had in favour of domestic
service or something like that where
she'd get a little time to herself.</p>
<p>Well anyways my judgment having slipped
to the extent of having signed my sense of humor
away for six months at twenty-two hundred
a week, I was in the very middle of a
fillum called the Bridge to Berlin when one
day, just as a big brute of a German officer
by the name of O'Flarety had me by the throat
in a French chateau, the studio manager comes
in and says the armistice is signed and the war
is over, and we was to quit as who would release
a war fillum now and we was to start on
something entirely different, only he didn't
know what the hell it was to be and here was
eight thousand feet wasted—and believe you
me I was sore myself for we had shot that
strangling sceene six times by then and my
marcelle wave was completely ruined by it, and
I would of liked to of had something to show
for it.</p>
<p>But anyways, orders was to quit and so me
and Ma and the two fool dogs and Musette
left the wilds of Jersey and after a stormy voyage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>
across the Hudson come safely home to
our modest little apartment on the drive, there
to not work at 22 hundred a week until Goldringer
got the studio manager to get the scenario
editor to get me a new story, which at
the price was not of long duration for while
Gawd knows they dont care how long a person
stands around waiting to be shot, they just
naturally hate to pay you for doing the same
thing at home in comfort.</p>
<p>Well anyways the bunk that scenario editor
picked out was something fierce. I wouldn't
of been screened dead in it. But it just happened
I had a idea for a scenario myself, which
come about through somebody having give me
a book for Christmas and one night, the boy
having forgot to bring the papers, I read it.
And was it a cute book? It was! I had a
real good cry over it, and while it wasn't exactly
a book for a dancer, I could see that there
was good stuff in it. So finally me and Ma
stopped into Goldringer's office after he had
twice telephoned for me and handed him a little
surprise along with the volume.</p>
<p>"I got a idea for a picture, Al," I says, "and
here's the book of it."</p>
<p>"Well Miss La Tour, what's the name of it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>
and idea?" says he, chewing on his cigar strong
and not even looking at the book but throwing
it to the stenographer, which is a general rule
always in the picture game and one reason we
don't see such a crowd of swell fillums.</p>
<p>"The name is Oliver Twist," I says. "It's a
juvinile lead the way it stands, but I want it
fixed up a little, with me as Olivette Twist—the
editor can fix it so's that will be all right.
It's really a swell part. I could wear boy's
clothes some of the time."</p>
<p>"Huh! Olivette Twist," says Goldringer,
taking back the book and looking at the cover
of it. "Always thought it was a breakfast
food! But if you say its O.K. we'd better get
it. Where is this feller Dickens? We'll wire
him for the rights. Friend of yours?"</p>
<p>You see, if anybody brings scenarios personally,
a star in particular, it's generally a
friends.</p>
<p>"No," I says. "It was sent me by Jim
along with a letter which shows the bird is well
known," I says. "And is in Westminister
Abby, London, England, which Jim says
proves his class.</p>
<p>"Must be a swell apartment," says Goldringer.
"All right we'll send a cable to him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>
and see if the picture rights is gone or not. If
the boy is so well known he may stick out for
a big price. This is Thursday. We may hear
from him by Monday or Tuesday, and we'll
get a scenario ready anyways so's we can begin
to shoot not later than a week from to-day.
Until then," he says, "run along and amuse
yourself and dont do anything I wouldnt."</p>
<p>Well, me and Ma was shown out then and
down on Broadway Ma see some salt-water
taffy in a drug-store and wanted to go in and
by it which I had to prevent because outside
of Ma being in no need of nourishment, she
weighing considerable over the heavy-weight
requirements already and Gawd knows if she
was to have went back into the circus it would
no longer be on the trapeese and a certain party
in the side-show would have a strong competitor
for her job and it wouldn't be the human
skeleton either. But leaving off the consideration
how would it look for us to go up the
Ave. in my new wine-colored limousine which
I earned myself and no one can say different
with truth—and eating stuff like that out of
a folded paper box? Ma certainly has my
health well in hand and heart and its seldom
we quarrel over any little thing, but she certainly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>
has no class instinct, or instinct for class—do
you get me? And when I try to make
her see that them little refinements is what
makes me the big success I am, she sometimes
kicks and if its hunger, its got to be met immediately
if not one way, why then another.
So in lieu, as the poet says, of the taffy I had
to take her to the Ritz and watch her put away
6 vanillia eclairs at two bits each and a quart
of cocoa, not that I begrudge the money, only
believe you me the way all hotels charge nowadays
is rapidly making Bolshivik out of even
we capatalists. Do you get me? You do!
But of course in my line you got to keep before
the public in the right way.</p>
<p>Well anyways Ma complained over the loss
of that taffy the whole way through the six
eclairs, which it was certainly a little hard on
me to have to sit there and watch her while for
professional reasons eating only one of these
tomato surprises which never surprise but the
once, on my figures account, and certainly its
a fact that the two of us was doing the next
best thing to what we wanted instead of the
thing itself which is one of the prices of success.
So, as is also often the case at such
times, I was a little mean to Ma on account<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>
of having been mean already—do you get me?</p>
<p>"Mamma," I says. "You certainly are getting
heavier. It's a crime for you to wear
these narrow skirts!"</p>
<p>Ma give me a searching look the same as used
to lead up to caster oil when I was a kid, and
then took the half of a eclair at one bit before
replying.</p>
<p>"Now Mary Gilligan you needn't take out
your artistic temperament or any other ailment
on me!" she says as firmly as the eclair would
permit. "Just because Jim is in France yet,
and your moleskin dolman was a failure and
you aint been occupied daily for a week or
more, and slipped up on doing your setting up
exercises this morning which I wouldnt of
mentioned only you started it," she says. "Its
no excuse for picking on me," she says. "What
if I am a little plump? My Gawd aint I
earned the right to be? What with three kids
and your Pa to bring up and the center trapeese
in the circus right through it all except
when absolutely necessary? You dont know
what a woman <i>can</i> go through!"</p>
<p>"Dont I, just!" I snapped for my Gawd aint
it the truth every woman has the very worst
troubles that any woman ever had? And she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>
sure gets sore when another woman sets up to
go them one better!</p>
<p>"No you don't!" retorts Ma with that maddening
air of being older than me which she
uses to squelch me every time she cant get me
any other way. "No you dont!" she says.
"You never brought up three kids without a
nurse girl while on the trapeese—you never
brought up a thing but two fool dogs and you
even leave them to the carelessness of a personal
maid," she says. "Poor dears, Gawd
knows what will become of their little canine
minds and morals!"</p>
<p>"Now Ma!" I begged, because she aughter
know that is a sore point with me and not intention,
and she had me on the raw.</p>
<p>"Well then!" she says. "You got a swell
job and no troubles only mabe a sluggish liver
and you aint the only woman in America which
Gen. Pershing cant yet spare the husband of,"
she says. "And mabe I do need to reduce a
little," which was her way of apologizing.
And just as this lull occurred who should come
into sight but Maison Rosabelle, her which runs
the shop where myself and all the most chic
professionals gets their clothes. She was all
dressed up like a plush horse with real sables,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>
part of which must of come off them simple
refined little gowns I had made for the Bridge
to Berlin that was ruined by the armistice. Her
hair had just been rehennered and her face was
as fresh as a tea-rose straight from the fragrent
facial massage. She smiled and sailed down
on the two of us which we welcomed with the
usual relief of a family quarreling when neither
sees the way to win out and have got to go on
living together. In other words she automatically
buried the hatchet for us, as the
school books say.</p>
<p>"So pleased to of run into you, dearies!"
she says. "For I'm goin' to Atlantic City to-morrow
for a little rest."</p>
<p>No sooner was them words out from between
her lip-rouge than I see a vision of salt-water
taffy arising in Ma's eyes. Believe you me
Ma is certainly hard to pry loose from anything
she has once set her mind on! And
Maison had to continue in that cordial manner.</p>
<p>"Why dont you run down for a few days?"
she says. "It'll do you good. You're looking
kinda pulled down Mrs. Gilligan!" she
says—and of course Ma fell for that.</p>
<p>"I do feel a little low!" she says, finishing
off her cocoa. "And Mary—Marie here is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>
waiting until they get a answer to a cable which
was sent to England by the studio. I understand
we may have quite a wait, so I really
believe we might go along."</p>
<h3> II</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">Now</span> as I looked at Ma it come over me that
mabe she had the right dope. When people
that live together, especially if not friends, but
relations, commence to get a little on each others
nerves, going away on a trip is good for
what ails them. The only trouble is that in
the case of females they generally go together.
Still, with the whole bunch of new and different
stuff it gives them to fight over—R.R.
tickets, and who wired for these horrid rooms,
and I told you to bring a heavier coat, and
etc., they generally get straightened out quite
a lot. Even the idea of going along with
Maison didnt worry me then, I having been
on tower many a time when the No. 1 Company
went out and Ma the same for years, and we
generally speak, even to the publicity man, no
matter if we have made Rochester, Buffalo and
Chicago in a quick jump playing matinées as
well. So I am without the wholesome and well<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>
founded fear of taking a pleasure-trip with
friends which is the bitter fruit of most persons
experience of the same. Besides, I sort
of like Maison, which of course her real name
is Maisie Brady, and her funny little husband,
which is also still in France, she not being dependant
any more than myself nor would she
hold him back from serving his country only
I dont hardly believe she urged him to go for
quite the patriotic reasons I did, he having been
a traveling man and so when he retired on her
income she didnt feel as natural and affectionate
and homelike and all that as when he was
away most of the time. But at any rate I and
she were both war-widows and old friends from
the time her mother was lady-lion tamer and
mine on the trapeese, and so in spite of the
bills she charges me she has more refinement
than most people and so I says all right, we'll
go to Atlantic City and we'll be on the one
twenty train to-morrow.</p>
<p>"Thats sweet, dearie!" says Maison.
"We'll get a swell rest!"</p>
<p>Then she set sail and was off with a Jewish
gentleman friend, which had been waiting at
the entrance all this time with a gardenia in
his buttonhole. And Ma and me called for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>
the check and dogs and limousine and hitched
our way homeward through the traffic to our
quiet little apartment with 7 windows with
the beautiful outlook of the river and the R.R.
tracks and etc.</p>
<p>Then while Musette packed only three
trunks and my gold-fitted dressing case and
a couple of hat boxes and my specially designed
jewellery box and the travelling hamper for
the dogs, we having decided to travel light and
probably not stay over three or four days, Ma
went into the all-tiled kitchen and commenced
getting up a little smack of cold beef and potato
salad and fried cheese sandwiches and
coffee and a few hot biscuits and honey so's we
wouldn't have to go out and eat, which Ma
certainly loves to do and no cook ever stands
it for more than a week and the current cook's
week was up that morning before we went
downtown.</p>
<p>Well anyway while she was doing this I went
into the drawing-room which is all fitted up
in handsome gold furniture—that the dealer
said was one of the Louis periods. Louis Cohen
I guess,—I never remember quite. And
to put a record on the phonograph in the case
I had especially built in the same style at fifty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>
dollars extra and all the instalments paid, and
streached out as good as I could manage to on
the chaise loung, which is a sort of housebroken
steamer-chair, and while John Macormik's
own voice sang my little grey home in the
west to me in the privacy of my own home, I
thought dreamingly about Jim and how much I
was missing him and how swell we danced together
and how kind and loving and brave he
was and how refined, and believe me he's about
the only theatrical male that don't murder a
dress suit, and how horrible it was to be seperated
from him after being married only two
weeks and what fools we was to have danced together
in every first-class theatre in America
and only got married so recent, for if only
we'd been married sooner mabe the pain of seperation
wouldnt of been so great by now. Who
knows? And believe you me it was some pain,
and I had myself crying before I knew it. For
I sure am stuck on that poor simp and my only
war-work aint been done on the screene, Gawd
knows, when I give him up to whatever the
Allies was fighting for, which if it dont turn
out to be as represented, believe you me, myself
and a whole lot of other girls is going to
want to know why!!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p>
<p>Well anyways, before Ma had the biscuits
baked and I had run jada jada and sing me
to sleep, I was wild to get away to the pure
country ocean air and some healthy outdoor
exercise which would help me forget my loneliness.
And a lot of quiet and rest and sleep,
with the ocean pounding me to the pillow and
all that.</p>
<p>I had only a sort of twenty minute small
time sketch of a idea of what Atlantic City
was like on account of me having been there
for openings only and getting in at four forty
five with the show beginning at eight fifteen
and the washup you need after the trip and
Ma always insisting on me doing a twenty
minute practice in my room and underwear before
every opening which is perfectly correct
and one of the principal things which has made
my handsprings what they are, and getting
dinner far enough in advance to do the hand-springs
in time. I knew little nor nothing of
what Jim calls the Coney Island that went to
finishing school except that there is swimming
and horseback riding and a boardwalk that
any one without French heels to catch in the
cracks can have a elegant walk on. What little
sniff of air I had outside the theatre and my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>
bedroom at the hotel give me a appatite for
more, which up to now I never had the opportunity
to get because of always being with a
high-class show that went right back to N.Y.
Sunday to open on Broadway. But now I was
going like a regular American lady citizen to
rest and get full of health and do as the regular
resorters did. And I was glad. I was so
anxious to keep myself in a pure atmosphere
for Jim's sake and the studio wasn't exactly the
farm—do you get me? You do! And a rest
in the country was the very thing. I got quite
excited thinking about it; dried my tears,
stopped the phonograph and made sure that
Musette put in my riding suit, bathing ditto,
and walking boots. And when this was done
I felt better already as the saying is, and fully
able to take some of the nourishment Ma had
got up.</p>
<p>The minute we set down to the table I see
that she had also been making good resolutions
and waited till she got ready to confess.
It come after the seventh tea-biscuit and honey.
On her part I mean, I only taking coldmeat
and salad and things I dont like much, for
reasons before stated.</p>
<p>"Mary Gilligan!" she says. "I believe I'm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>
getting heavier," she says, just as if it occurred
to her for the first time. "And I have decided
that while I am away to Atlantic City I wont
eat to amount to anything and reduce in other
ways the whole time I'm there!"</p>
<p>"You dont say," I says, without batting an
eye. "Do you really think you need to?"</p>
<p>"I do!" she says. "This is my last real meal.
And you needn't try to persuade me out of it."</p>
<p>I didn't. And next morning right after
breakfast we caught the one twenty, hats, dogs,
Musette, and all, and met up with Maison
Rosabelle, which was dressed in a simple little
trotters costume of chiffon and ermine which
looked like it had been made in Babylon. I
mean B.C. not L.I. And with her was a little
surprise in the way of the same Jewish gentleman,
Mr. Freddy Mayer, with another gardenia
on him and a fine line of plausable explinations.</p>
<p>"Aint it a co-co-strange, Freddy just happens
to be going our way!" cooed Maisie with
all the innocence of a N.Y. livery-stable pidgeon.</p>
<p>"Yes, I'm taking a special offering of champagne
to a special friend in the hotel business
there," says Mr. Freddy. "And with three<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>
such beautiful lady companions its no hardship
to leave Manhattan behind nor the
Bronx," says he gaily. "Altho when we come
back we may find the Aldermen has decided
to change both names after July first," says
the humorous dog.</p>
<p>"Will you please kindly open this window a
little?" I intrupped him. "The air in here
aint so good as it was."</p>
<p>I dont know did this get over, but believe
you me I didn't care for that well washed
young wine-seller at all, nor for his company.
And it was a relief when he done as I asked
and him and Maison found their seats was at
the other end of the car. In a way I can understand
her liking traveling-men but not up
to the point of traveling with one, even by semi-accident.
And so opening the Motion Picture
Gazette to look at the double-page spread of
myself "Who has at length been lured by the
artistic possibilities of the picture world," and
keeping a eye on Ma to see would she stop the
candy-boy, settled down to the soothing sound
of Maison's laugh, and begun my quiet little
trip to Healthland.</p>
<p>There is a large variaty of ladies which have
husbands still in the army, but believe you me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>
they certainly got one thing in common, or
else no looks at all. And that is, the temptation
to take up with other company to some
degree. Because of course while the war was
holding the stage a husband's absence could be
stood, but what with this peace-hyphen in the
fighting and everything, you cant help but
commence wondering what kind of a girl is
detaining him over there and feel inclined to
have a understudy kind of waiting off stage in
self defence. For believe you me, there seems
to be something sort of attractive about a war-widow
and the ones which ignores the fact and
minds their own affairs is the real patriotic
women of America.</p>
<p>Not that I want to say a word about Maison,
and what happened to me after the end of that
train ride on which I was sitting so superior-minded,
taught me a lesson; because its a cinch
to be good when you want to be. A person
which has suffered themselves is slow to bawl
out the other fellow so quick next time. Do
you get me? Not yet.</p>
<p>Well, after we had rolled by the lovely
scenery and read the handsome ad. signs on
either hand, not to mention the pipe-line, and
got the invigorating smell of low tide in our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>
eager nostrils, we come out on that quiet little
country railroad station platform, our destination,
to be greeted by only several hundred
busses and a thousand or so taxi-cabs,
each yelling at the top of their voices. As we
got off the train Maison rushes up to us and
pipes a cheering little question.</p>
<p>"Where are we going, dearie?" she said,
blithly.</p>
<p>"Where are we going?" I says. "Maison
Rosabelle, do you mean to say you didn't wire
no place for rooms?"</p>
<p>"Why no!" says Maison. "Didn't you?"</p>
<p>"Certainly not!" I says. "I never wired
for rooms in my whole life. The advance
agent always done that for me."</p>
<p>"Well Mary Gilligan, I'm not your advance
agent!" she snapped, and then she kind of
looked at Mr. Freddy in a sweet, helpless
womanly fashion expecting him to fork up a
little help. But it seems Mr. Freddy was one
of these birds that only think to take care of
his own comfort. He had a room alright
at the Traymore. And he meant to
keep it!</p>
<p>"We'll take the bus to there," he suggested.
"I'm sure there'll be lots of room."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p>
<p>But no bus for me on account of professional
reasons. So we took one taxi for him and
us and another for Musette and the dogs and
the bags, and then commenced a round of seeking
for shelter as the poet says, which had the
"Two Orphans" skun a mile. We went to six
hotels and not a room among them. Believe
you me, there is just one person can make you
feel cheaper than a Atlantic City hotel clerk
when he says "No reservations?" and lifts his
arched brows, and that is the head waiter when
he says "nothing to drink?" and you say "yes,
nothing!" Well, thank Gawd thats one thing
prohibition will prohibit.</p>
<p>Well anyways, we tried six hotels until at
last we come to a little place where the young
feller at the desk give his reluctant consent to
our admission. It was a simple little place
done quitely in red plush and gold and marble
columns, very restful with not over a hundred
people sitting about in the lobby, listning not
to the sad sea waves but to a jazz orchestra
and inhaling the nice fresh tobacco smoke of
which the air was full.</p>
<p>Well, Mr. Freddy give a gasp of relief and
bid us good-by, after dating up Maisie for dinner,
and a flock of bell-hops hopped upon our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>
stuff and we commenced a walking tower to
our rooms. As we started off down the Alleyway,
Maison give me a nudge.</p>
<p>"Look it, that sweet young officer! Aint
he handsome?" she whispers only just loud
enough for him to hear. And before I thought
I turned my head and he certainly was easy
to look at. He looked, in fact like a cross between
a clothing ad. and a leading juvinille
with a touch of bear-cat in him to make a regular
he-man out of him. He was a captain, although
so young, and had a cute little moustache
and had that blue-blooded air—you know—like a Boston accent even without hearing
him speak. And he was sitting all alone under
a big poster advertising a entertainment
for the benefit of blind soldiers or something.
Of course I didn't notice him at all, because
I being a perfect lady I dont do them things.
But I couldnt help seeing that he didn't blush
at what Maisie said, although I knew he heard
it, but a sort of crinkly expression come up
round his nice blue eyes as if he thought us
comic or something. It made me just boil because
my clothes is nothing if not refined and
I never wear anything but a little powder on
my nose when off the stage, and if its one thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>
gets my goat it is to be taken for a show-girl
which undoubtedly he thought the two of us
was and they not in his class, for even with the
passing glance I had taken I could see he was
used to the Vanderbilts and all that set and had
never had to be taught to take his daily tub.
Do you get me?</p>
<p>So I walked like I hadnt looked, and of
course I really hadnt, and proceeded to the before
the war section of the hotel and the handsome
suite all fitted in real varnished pine and
carpets just like a Rochester boarding house
when I was on the small time before I made
my big success, and it made me feel quite at
home or would of only for what I knew the
difference in price was going to be. I guessed
it just as soon as I heard Ma gasping over the
hotel rules which she was reading. I went over
and looked at them too, and at first I couldn't
see nothing unusual about them. There was
the usual bunk about the management not being
responsible for the guest in any way, and
Gawd knows how could they be and I dont
blame them. And then, a little ways down I
see what had got Ma stirred up. It seems dogs
was ten dollars a week per each, and of course<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>
we had two of them and Ma never has cared
for my two, anyways.</p>
<p>"Well, I hope the sea air will be good for
the poor little lambs," she says very sarcastic.
"Mebbe it'll make 'em grow—into police-dogs
or something useful!"</p>
<p>Well I see by this that the salt air had not
yet got to Ma, although the troublesome journey
had. And so I put on a simple little suit of
English tweed and low heeled shoes and a
walking hat, which seemed to me the right
thing for the country, and went out to pry off
a little health before dinner.</p>
<p>The outdoors was something grand. The
air was as good a cocktail as a person would
want, and the lights along the boardwalk was
coming out like dandelion blossoms. There
was hardly anybody around—just a few here
and there and the surf of that wide and cruel
ocean which Jim was the other side of, was
breaking close to the rail in big white ostrich
plumes. Overhead the sky was as clear and
high as a circular drop with the violet lights on
it, and a few clean stars was coming out. It
was just cold enough to make a person want
to walk fast until the blood got singing through
you and you wanted to shout and run, only of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>
course no lady would. But just the same, I
commenced to feel glad I hadnt died when I
had the measles, and I loved everybody and
had a great career before me and—and—oh
that grand yearning happy feeling which
comes out of being young and full of strength
and a good bank-account. Do you get me?
You do!</p>
<p>Well anyways, here I was walking like I
had money on it and huming a tune to myself,
when along comes a man the other way, walking
two to my one, and huming the same tune,
"How I hate to get up in the morning," it
was. When he heard me and I heard him we
both sort of half stopped out of surprise, and
I got a good look at him. It was the young
Captain from the hotel.</p>
<p>He also give a start of surprise when he seen
me, showing he recognized me just as good as
I did him. Only it was a real, genuine start,
as if he realized something more than the fact
he had seen me at the hotel. Then he smiled—a
smile which would of done any dental ad.
proud, and passed along, looking back over his
shoulder—once. While I went along minding
my own business and only know he looked back
on account of my happening to look back to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>
see how far I had gone. I went a mile further
and somehow that smile of his stuck in my mind
and made me sort of happy for no reason, and
at the same time awful extra lonesome for
Jim. I made up my mind I would get Jim a
new car for a surprise when he come home and
I would send him a extra box of eats this week
and some of them cigarettes he likes so well,
and a whole lot of stuff like that, the way a
woman does at such a time. Do you get me?
Probably.</p>
<p>Well anyways, I walked myself into a terrible
enthusiasm over Jim, and then come back
to the hotel. Which, by the way, its a strange
thing how much further it is coming back to a
Atlantic City hotel than walking away from
it. And there at the door was Ma with the
two dogs. A real strange sight for I never
knew her to take them out before, and it looked
like a guilty conscience, for she give me a peek
out of the corner of her eye for some reason
and then hastily explained how she had thought
she'd take them herself this time instead of
Musette. Well, we got rid of the dogs and
then come down to dinner where Maison sailed
down upon us all dressed up and no place to
go, for it seems this Mr. Freddy had stood her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>
up on the dinner, having telephoned he'd be
over later with a friend or two but business prevented
him paying for her meal, or at least
thats what I expect he meant. And Maison
was wild. But she had to eat dinner with us,
and register a bunch of complaints between
bowing to friends and so forth.</p>
<p>"The luck I have!" she says. "That guy
Freddy doesn't think any more of a nickle than
he does of his right arm! And with all the
conventions which is held at this town of course
we would have to pick on the date the Baptist
ministers was here! Its a fact! The clerk
told me. And what is more if there ain't Ruby
Roselle and Goldringer and will you look at
that wine and it twelve a quart without the
tax! Well, of all things!"</p>
<h3> III</h3>
<p>And there sure enough was Ruby across the
room with Goldringer, which he evidently had
come down to wait for the answer to that cable
in the fresh air, and I suppose Ruby was a accident,
the same as Freddy, for goodness
knows, I wouldnt say a thing against her even
behind her back—and a good deal could be said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>
behind what shows of it when in costume. But
I wouldnt say it anyhow, because even if it was
the truth that woman would sue a person for
liabale if only to get her name in the paper.
And if she happened to be taking dinner with
Goldringer, Gawd knows, its a comparatively
free country and he's her manager as well as
mine and its a good thing to assume its only
business whenever possible as thinking the best
of people never hurt anybody yet.</p>
<p>Also across the room all by himself was that
young Captain, and he looked over twice but
of course I pretended it was the picture on the
wall over his head which had took my eye. Altogether
that strange dining room wasnt much
more lonesome to us than the Ritz or Astor for
tea would of been. But the most remarkable
part of the meal was Ma. Because she didn't
touch it! Actually, and it the American plan
which would tempt one of these Asthetics if
for no other reason but that you have to pay
for it anyway. And all she took was a piece
of meat about the size of a dime and a leaf
of salad.</p>
<p>"I'm going to stick by what I said if only
because you said I wouldnt!" she says, looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>
me square in the eye. "Diet is my middle
name."</p>
<p>Well, I mentally give her until to-morrow
on that but said nothing at the time. And we
went out into the lounge where Mr. Freddy
and three friends was already lounging and
after they had joined us, Goldringer and Ruby
did the same, and the drinks commenced to
flow with that frantic haste like into a river
at the edge of the ocean as the poet says, meaning
because its near its finish. While I, never
using any alcohol myself except to remove my
make up, sat there flushed with Bevo, and
couldn't help noticing the way the Captain
which he was still all alone, looked over at the
menagerie, and it made me boil for how could
I help that piker Freddy and his cheap friends
and the rest, and believe you me there are many
perfect ladies in pictures and on the stage, only
the public dont often recognize them because
they are swamped with a bunch of roughnecks
which all are popularly supposed to be.</p>
<p>It was a big relief when the Captain got up
and went away about nine, and left us to a
endurance contest as to which could sit up the
longest in that refreshing atmosphere of
cigarette smoke and drinks and ten-dollar perfume<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>
with the sad sea waves beating vainly
outside the carefully glass enclosed verandah
until one o'clock—when I personally went to
bed leaving them to their fate.</p>
<p>I give the telephone operator a terrible
shock by leaving a call for seven thirty, and
when it come I put on my riding suit which
I had left from a dance called "The Call to
Hounds" which Jim and me done at the Palace
just before he enlisted, and went out into the
keen morning air. And it was some air!
Then I commenced to look around for horses
but had great difficulty in finding the same, for
it seems the Atlantic City horses dont get up
any earlier than most of the visitors, and believe
you me I and a few coons which were
picking up scraps and so forth off the boardwalk,
was the only birds in sight at that hour.
Well anyways I walked along breathing in that
sweet air at about fifty cents per breath by the
hotel rates, but feeling pretty good in spite of
it, when I actually found a place where the
horses was up—or mabe they had been all
night. I got a horse which looked considerable
like a moth-eaten property one but could
go pretty good and commenced to ride gently
along what seemed to be my private ocean,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>
when all of a sudden who would I see but the
young Captain riding very good indeed. He
come up to me on high and then tried to put
on the brakes when he seen who it was, but the
horse had its mind on something else and
wouldnt, so he got by me but not without a
"Good morning!" Which I thought fairly safe
to smile at seeing we was so rapidly going in
opposite directions. But it seems he must of
spoke roughly to his steed for he come up behind
me and spoke with just that grand refined
Big-Time drawing-room act accent I knew by
his little moustache he would have.</p>
<p>"I say! What luck!" he says. "You are
Miss Marie LaTour, are you not?"</p>
<p>Was I sore? I was. Any lady would be
and of course after the company he seen me in
at the hotel what could I expect but to be
picked up? But more particularly as he had
my name and it with a good reputation, and
no one can say different with truth, I simply
had to show him where he got off.</p>
<p>"Sir!" I says, just like a play. "Sir! I do
not know you. Please beat it at once!"</p>
<p>"I know, but really!" he begged, flashing
that white smile. "I'm not trying to be impertenant—let
me explain...."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p>
<p>"Explain nothing!" I says very haughty.
"I wont listen."</p>
<p>"But I'm not doing what you think!" he
cries out. "Please wait until you hear...."</p>
<p>"I've heard that 'please listen' stuff before,"
I says. "Good-by!"</p>
<p>And then I done the bravest act of my life,
not being really acquainted with horses, especially
Atlantic City ones. I give the horse a
lash and off we went, I trying hard to give the
impression of a good rider and not looking
back because I dasn't with that animal headed
for the steel pier full clip. But I heard the
Captain's remarks, just the same.</p>
<p>"By jove, I'll <i>make</i> you listen to me—just
for that!" he says. And I heard no more, for
the bird which keeps the horses come out and
rescued me just before we hit the pier and I
got off and started for the hotel, boiling with
rage. Me treated like a common chorus girl!
Me, once the best known parlor dancing act
in the world, and now even more so on the motion
picture screen and a lady or dead! I
wouldnt of looked at that guy again on a bet—I
made up my mind right then and there to
show him his mistake and that if my accent
wasnt as good as his my morals was better and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>
no attempt on his part could get me to speak
to him again.</p>
<p>Well in this state of mind I run into Ma,
just before we reached the hotel which she was
hurrying to just ahead of me, and believe you
me I was sure surprised because I never knew
her out so early although she generally is up by
seven, but with her curlpapers still on and a
kimona and thats different from coming out
in public.</p>
<p>"I've been taking my exercise!" she says
before I could speak. "And I'm glad to see
you do the same," she says.</p>
<p>And I certainly had to hand it to her
strength of mind because after being out so
early and all she eat was only tea and dry
toast for breakfast.</p>
<p>After which we stopped by the office and
just before we got there I see the Captain give
a note to the clerk and walk away. When we
asked for mail that note was the first thing the
clerk handed me.</p>
<p>"Captain Raymond just left this for you
Miss LaTour," he says.</p>
<p>I didnt even open it.</p>
<p>"Kindly return it," I says, very dignified,
giving it back, and looked over my other mail.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>
But no letter from my husband, which is always
the way on a day a woman most needs
one. So I went upstairs very low in my mind
and sort of glad that even if Jim couldn't think
to write there was others would be glad enough
to if they was let. And then I went and got
Maison out of bed which she was taking her
breakfast in.</p>
<p>"You come down here for your health and
look what you do to it!" I says, and made her
go for a boardwalk which she held out for about
half a hour and no wonder with the heels she
wears, and then stopped me with a gasp.</p>
<p>"Dearie, you surely must be the one that
put the hell in health," she says, "For heavens
sakes leave us sit down."</p>
<p>Well we did, and in about five minutes along
comes Mr. Freddy with a friend, Mr. Sternberg,
and it was remarkable how quick Maison
recovered her strength, with the result that we
spent a quiet little morning and about fifty dollars
of Mr. Sternberg's money on shooting-galleries
and throwing rings and carousels and
a Japanese auction and other restful seaside
sports, and ended at a quiet little café simply
done in paper roses and rubber palm trees
where the drinks was only seventy-five cents<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>
per each and I had to sit and watch them again,
Ma having gone off to exercise and not appearing
to want me along with her.</p>
<p>Well anyways I was sort of relieved over
not having to eat lunch with Captain Raymond
looking on back at the hotel, and was just
thinking of it when who would come into that
café but the Captain himself, alone except for
another officer, a Lieutenant with his arm in
a sling and caught sight of me the very minute
he sat down.</p>
<p>Well of course I didnt look over at him but
I couldnt help noticing he called a waiter and
wrote a note on a piece of paper and that the
waiter brought it over to me.</p>
<p>And Maison seen it too, and her gentleman
friends the same, and did they kid me? They
did! But I kept the bird which had brought
the note over while I tore it in two without
reading it and sent it back again that way and
believe you me that got over, because I could
see Captain Raymond turn red all the way
across the noisy room.</p>
<p>Well I thought that had settled it and spent
a mournful if busy afternoon in another café
where there was lots of smoke and a Jazz band
and dancing and Maison was real happy because<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>
she had finally got Mr. Freddy to spend
a nickle and a half. But I was lower than
ever in my mind thinking how much more often
some soldiers seemed able to write than others.</p>
<p>Well, after we had taken a nice walk in the
fresh air nearly three blocks long, I got back
to the hotel to find that Goldringer was giving
a party that night beginning with dinner and
of course Ma and me was booked for it and no
escape because of my contract with him. And
it was some party and at twelve o'clock that
night I dragged my weary bones down the corridor
after the second day of my rest, feeling
that I would pass out any minute. A person
certainly does need their strength to enjoy a
American health resort.</p>
<p>The next morning I didn't even attempt to
get up for any wild west exhibit. I hadn't the
pep for one thing and the Captain was another
reason of course. And when I finally come
down-stairs and see Ma eat practically nothing,
I let her set off right away after breakfast
without me for exercise was nothing in my life.
I strolled around the lobby waiting for Maison
Rosabelle according to her request and there I
seen a big poster which I had noticed before,
the one about the entertainment for the benefit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>
of blind soldiers which the Captain had been
sitting under the first time I—he saw me, and
I went over and read it and the entertainment
was to come off that very night. And while
I was reading it the second time the way a person
does in a hotel lobby, up comes Captain
Raymond and actually speaks right there
where a sceene would of proved me no lady.</p>
<p>"Please, Miss LaTour!" he says. "It's so
<i>important.</i>"</p>
<p>"Kindly do not force me to call for assistance,"
I says low and quiet. "You are a
stranger to me."</p>
<p>"But you dont understand!" he says, flushing
up red the attractive way he had for all he
was so fresh.</p>
<p>"Indeed I do," I says. "I havent been in
the theatrical world since three generations for
nothing," I says. "Kindly go <i>away!</i>"</p>
<p>"If you would only listen for five minutes,
I'd prove how mistaken you are!" he says.
"Won't you give me a chance?"</p>
<p>"No!" I says.</p>
<p>"By Heavens, I'll make you!" he says, half
laughing. "I've never seen anything so absurd!
Why my dear lady...."</p>
<p>Right then up comes Maison in a simple little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>
Xmas tree of a dress in green and gold and
red, and I broke away and took her arm, and
hurried her out through the front door, leaving
the Captain staring after us and rather
against Maison's will.</p>
<p>"Why didn't you introduce me, dearie?" she
says. "I kind a thought you'd pick up that
bird!"</p>
<p>"I didn't pick him up. I turned him down!"
I snapped. But Maison kidded me the whole
three hours while we was in the beauty-parlours
getting waived and manicured.</p>
<h3> IV</h3>
<p>Then we had a nice wholesome little lunch
lasting only three hours and comparatively
quiet and by ourselves, seeing there was only
Goldringer and Ruby Roselle and Maison and
Freddy and O'Flarety, our leading juvenile
who had turned up, and Mr. Sternberger and
a friend of Ma's which used to be in the circus
with her, and Ma and myself. And all the
way through I watched Ma kind of anxiously,
for she only toyed with a little salad and passed
up everything else. I was by this time really
scared she would be haggard or something, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>
she looked fine, and not a word of complaint
out of her, only toward four o'clock she got
kind of restless, and so did I, so we excused
ourselves, and walked to the door together.</p>
<p>"You needn't come along with me, Mary
Gilligan," she says. "I want to walk real
fast."</p>
<p>I looked at her sort of surprised at that, but
at the time the queerness didn't really sink in.
And I was so wore out I was actually glad to
let her go alone and personally, myself, I took
one of those overgrown baby-carriages or rolling
chairs which I thought a healthy young
person like myself would never come to, and
sank into it like the poor weary soul I was,
and let the coon tuck me in like a six-months-old,
and off we went as fast as a snail.</p>
<p>Well it was pleasanter than I had thought it
would be and I got kind of drowsy and dreamy
and somehow I couldnt help but think of Captain
Raymond and how refined and nice he was
and how my fame and beauty had captured
him to the extent that it had almost made him
forget to act like a gentleman, and how he persisted
like a regular story book hero. And I
wondered if he would shoot himself on my account,
and that threw a awful scare into me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>
for handsome women have a terrible responsibility
in the way they treat men. And I wondered
was I really doing the right thing, taking
such a risk by treating him so sever and not
speaking and here he was in the service of his
country and all and Gawd knows I might be
wrecking his whole life from then on. And
furthermore I thought how hard it is to be refined
and what a lot a person has to sacrifice
to it, and that the roughnecks of this world
seem to have most of the fun. And that it was
certainly hard to be dignified but that my whole
career was built on my refinement no less than
my great talent, and I must respect my own
position. Ah well, uneasy lies the tooth that
wears a crown as the poet says, or something!</p>
<p>And by this time the coon had got tired
pushing me and turning my face sea-ward had
gone to take a rest and I took one too and
actually fell asleep.</p>
<p>When I woke up I was moving again, going
slow in the direction of the Inlet, and I felt
quite refreshed and happy, and the whole of
Atlantic City appeared to feel the same, for
everybody I passed smiled and seemed to be
enjoying theirselves. And they all seemed to
smile at me in such a sweet, friendly way it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>
made my heart feel awful good. I was even
quite surprised because although of course I
am used to being recognized every place I go,
but still, more people than ever was doing it
this afternoon. I begun to think I must be
looking pretty good and that my hat, about
which I had had a few doubts, was a big success
after all. It really was a sort of triumphal
progress as the saying is, and I had
half a mind to turn around when we passed
the last pier; but the ocean looked so beautiful
and pink in the sunset and going the other way
it would of been in my eyes, so I just let myself
be rolled on and on until we was almost
to the Inlet and not a soul in sight. Then the
chair stopped and was turned against the rail.</p>
<p>"Now I've got you at last!" said a unexpected
voice, and around from the back came,
not the coon, but Captain Raymond.</p>
<p>"Where did you come from?" I asked,
hardly able to speak.</p>
<p>"I have had the honor of pushing you into
this secluded corner of—of the ocean!" he said,
his blue eyes twinkling.</p>
<p>"But how—how . . ." I sputtered.</p>
<p>"I bought off the colored man while you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>
were sleeping," he said. "And have been your
humble servant for almost an hour!"</p>
<p>Can you beat it? You cant!</p>
<p>"Well of all the nerve," I began, remembering
how people had smiled, and no wonder!</p>
<p>"What are you going to do about it?" he
asked.</p>
<p>"Walk home this minute!" I says, struggling
with the rugs. But they had a will of their
own and it was on his side and I just couldnt
seem to get free of them.</p>
<p>"Oh I say, don't be so absurd!" he says smilingly.</p>
<p>"I'm not!" I says.</p>
<p>"Oh but you are!" he insisted. "Just sit still
and let me show you something!"</p>
<p>Well, there was nothing for me but to give
in or look a utter fool, and he <i>was</i> so attractive!
And, well anyways, I waited and he
brought out a letter from his overcoat pocket
and it was the very one he had wrote me first
and I had returned it to the hotel clerk.</p>
<p>"Please just open it!" he begged, and I did
and nearly fainted because inside was a letter
in Jim's handwriting addressed to me and introducing
Captain Charles Raymond who was
with him in France, only being gassed was now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>
home on leave and would I show him every
courtesy as he had been good to my ever loving
husband, Jim!</p>
<p>"And really and truly I wouldn't have been
so persistant, Miss LaTour," Captain Raymond
was saying as I looked up. "I had intended
using it when I got to New York of
course. But when they put me in charge of
this entertainment for the benefit of the blind,
and I discovered you were here, I was simply
determined to get you to take part in it.
Couldn't you do us just one little dance? It
would be such a drawing-card, your name
would. That was all I wanted, really!"</p>
<p>Believe you me I didn't know what to think
or how I felt. Did I feel flat? I did! Did
I feel relieved? I did!! So it wasnt a mash
at all, and for a moment I felt a lonelier war-widow
than ever. Then I remembered how
Jim said in the note to be nice to this bird, and
I could see, now that I looked at him good,
that he was the sort which it is perfectly safe
to be nice to. Not that he didnt admire me,
either, but that he was just as refined as me
and more so and was Jim's pal beside. So I
says yes, of course I would dance, and we
talked and talked and the sun went down, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>
got to be real friends and was it good to hear
about Jim, first hand? <b>IT WAS</b>! And after
a while we commenced to walk back toward the
hotel, pushing the chair, and the lights was all
lit along the walk like Fairyland, and also in
the shops so they was more like show-cases
than ever. And then I got the second shock
of the afternoon because at ten past six with
dinner at seven, there was Ma in the Ocean
Lunch eating griddle-cakes, fish-balls, Salsbury
steake and coffee, with a little strained
honey and apple-pie on the side! No wonder
she could diet so good! And I take it to my
credit that, since she did not notice me, I never
let on that I seen her, not then nor afterward
at dinner when she refused everything but two
dill pickles!</p>
<p>But it wasn't until afterward when I was
in the star dressing-room at the Apollo Theatre,
putting on my make-up for the benefit that
the real blow came. I was just about ready to
go on when in rushed Goldringer, all breathless
with a cablegram in his hand.</p>
<p>"Its all right about Olivette Twist!" he
puffed at me. "We'll begin making that
fillum Tuesday!" and he threw the message<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>
down on my dressing table. It was signed by
our London manager and it read:—</p>
<p>"Present location of Charles Dickens uncertain
but material is uncopyrighted, shoot."</p>
<p>And so immediately after the show, myself
and Ma went back to New York to get a twenty-four
hour rest before commencing work
again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2>V</h2>
<h3>NOW IS THE TIME</h3>
<h3>I</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">Believe</span> you me, the world to-day is just
about as settled as a green passenger on a trip
to Bermuda. There is that same awful feeling
of not knowing is something going to happen
or not—do you get me? You do! And it
can't help but strike even a mere womanly
woman and lady like I, that unless the captain
and officers keep a firm hand on the crew until
we get a little ballast in the hold, we are likely
to get in Dutch. Not meaning the Germans
necessarily, but the Russians, or something
just as bad. And perhaps it may seem strange
for me to know about them nautchical terms,
but anybody which has once been to Bermuda
learns what ballast is on account of their not
having hardly any on them boats because of the
water not being deep enough, and believe you
me, nothing I had to do in the fillum we made<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>
after what was left of us arrived there, and it
was some fillum at that—$1000. for bathing
costumes alone and me as "The Sea King's
Conquest" in silver scales, although hardly
knowing how to swim—was a patch on the
treatment which that unballasted boat handed
me on the trip down.</p>
<p>Well anyways, even when sitting in the security
of my flat on the Drive, which Gawd
knows it aught to be secure what with the salary
I get and moving-pictures will be the last
thing the common people will give up;—even
with this security and the handsomest furniture
any installment house could provide, and every
other equipment which is necessary to one so
prominent in my line as myself, still even in
the scarcity of the home, as the poet says, I
am conscious that the world is, or could quite
easily be, on the blink.</p>
<p>And ain't it the truth? Even the simplest
soul, buried in the wilds of Broadway and
wholly absorbed in their own small life must
feel the unrest. No use kidding ourselves
about it. It's time for all good Americans to
quit fighting among theirselves and come to
the aid of the country. Regardless of race,
creed or color, as the free hospital says, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>
Gawd knows the hospital will be where they'll
land if they don't. Do you get me? Probably
not. What I mean is, it's time we quit
talking and <i>did</i> something. What? I dunno,
quite, but it was this general line of thought,
which come to me while listening to the director
give me my instructions for the ball-room
scene in "The Dove of Peace," where I catch
the Russian Ambassador giving the nitro-glycerine
or some other patent face-cleanser to
the fake Senator, caused me to reform the
White Kittens. That and Ma's peculiar behavior,
plus the new cook.</p>
<p>You see it come over me all of a sudden that
we ladies have now a vote and so forth, which
unquestionably makes us more or less citizens
the same as the men, and if the country went
bluey, why wouldn't it be our fault as well?
And I come to this partially through the sense
of unrest and having eat something that didn't
settle good and Ma's behavior. All coming
at once they kind of got together and exploded
into my idea.</p>
<p>Well anyways, I had just come to a place in
my personal life where I seen a little peace and
quiet ahead and nothing to do but go up in an
aeroplane for the second reel of "The Dove."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>
The war was over without Jim being killed in
it and a new chance offered by a big picture
contract the minute his uniform should be off
him; I was going strong with nothing but
Broadway releases and a salary which made
Morgan jealous; my spring clothes hadn't a
failure among them and only one of my hats
was too tight in the head. The fool dogs was
both healthy, the cook had stayed a month;
the car had been in order for over three weeks,
and I had successfully nursed Ma through the
flu. And I thought fat could not harm me,
as the poet says, for I had dieted to-day. When
all of a sudden Ma, who had hardly got over
the Influenza, come down with Bolshevism.</p>
<p>Now the trouble with these new diseases is
that the doctors don't seem to know anything
about them nor what makes them catching.
At least that is the line of talk they pull, but
I got a hunch myself, that if the flu had been
quarantined right in the first place it could of
been stopped. Do you get me? You do! And
I will say one more word in favor of Influenza.
You was obliged to report it, if only to the
Board of Health. But Bolshevism seems to
be like a cold in the head. If you catch it,
that evidently is nobody's business but your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>
own; if you spread it—the same. Then again
folks are kind of proud of having had the flu.
It makes conversation and everything, and one
which has escaped feels a little mortified like
admitting they had never seen Charlie Chaplin.
Indeed, people certainly do get a lot of
pleasure out of illness and etc. And so long
as it is under control, all right, leave them enjoy
theirselves. They had to suffer first and
mabe a little talk is coming to them.</p>
<p>But with this Bolshevism it's the other way
around. The talk comes first, but believe you
me, the suffering will come afterwards. And
if they could only be made to realise this ere too
late, a whole lot of patients would be cured
before they got it. A ounce of Americanism
is worth a pound of red propaganda, as the
poet says, or would of had he written to-day.</p>
<p>Things started with Ma as per usual upsetting
the cook which has come to be a habit with
her, for cooking is to Ma what his art is to
Caruso—naught but death could tear her from
it permanent. And while I give her credit for
trying in every way to be an idle rich, the
kitchen might as well be furnished with magnets
and she a nail for all she can keep out of
it with the natural result that keeping out of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>
it is the best thing the cooks we hire do. And
I can't say with any truth that I have made as
much effort to break her of that as of some
other lack of refinements, such as remembering
that toothpicks ain't a public utility and never
to say "excuse my back," or keep her knife and
fork for the next course at the Ritz. Because
believe you me, Ma is some cook and a real
authograph dinner by her is something to bring
tears of sweet memory to the eyes of the older
generation and leave us young things in sympathetic
wonder about them dear dead days
when first class home-cooking was a custom,
not a curiosity. And so while the material side
of life don't interest me much, what with my
work and etc. to take my mind off it, still even
a artist must eat or Gawd knows where the
strength to act in the "Dove of Peace" or any
other six-reeler would come from if I didn't,
and Ma's is that simple nourishing kind, but
with quality, the same as the sort of dresses I
wear—made out of two dollars worth of material
and a thousand dollar idea.</p>
<p>Well anyways, our latest cook which had a
husband in the service and had took up her
work again so's to release him for the front at
Camp Mills, for he got no further, heard he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>
was coming back home, having got his discharge
and it upset her so but whether from
joy or rage, I don't know which, that there
was nothing to eat in the kitchen but a little
liquor she had left at seven-thirty, when we
went in to see what was the cause of delay, and
me with Maison Rosabelle and a friend to dinner.
So Ma woke her up out of her emotions
which she claimed had overcome her, and give
her a honorable discharge of her own and then
turned up the ends of her sleeves, and only a
little hampered by the narrow skirt to the green
satin evening gown she had on her, give us a
meal as per above described. And no one
would of cared how long it was before the intelligence
office—I mean domestic, not U.S.
Army—sent us a cook but that in trying to
save her dress Ma got hot grease on her right
hand and that changed the situation because we
had to call up next day and take anything they
had—and they sent us up a German woman.</p>
<p>Well, believe you me, that was a shock because
I had an idea that all the Germans in the
country was either interned or incognito, but
this one wasn't even disguised, which isn't so
remarkable on account of her being pretty near
as big as Ma and a voice on her like a fog-horn<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>
with a strong accent on the fog. I never in my
life see so many bags and bundles and ecteras
as that female had with her, for she was undoubtedly
one, although she had a sort of
moustache beside the voice. But what she had
in voice she certainly lacked in words. When
Ma set out to ask her the usual questions which
everybody does, although their heart is trembling
with fear, she won't take the job, this
lady Hun didn't divulge no more information
about herself than we asked. She was as stingy
with her language as if it had been hard liquor.
Ma asked her to come in, and she did, and sat
without being asked upon one of the gold chairs
in the parlor which I certainly never expected
it would survive the test, they being made for
parlor rather than sitting room.</p>
<p>Well anyways, it's a fact she certainly was
a mountain and if she were a fair specimen, all
this about the Germans starving to death is
the bunk. Only her being over here may of
made a difference. Well, after she had set
down a bundle done up in black oil-cloth, a cute
little hand-bag about a yard long made out of
somebody's old stair-carpet, a shoe-box with a
heel of bread sticking out at one end, an umbrella
which looked like a sea-side one, a pot of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>
white hyacinths in full bloom and a net-bag
full of little odds and ends, she still had an old
black pocket-book and a big bulky bundle done
up in a shawl lying idly in her lap. After I
had taken all this in, I gave her personally the
once-over and was surprised to see she wasn't
so old as her figure, or anything like it. For
by the size of her she might of been the Pyramids,
but her face was quite young and if she
had been a boy I would of said the moustache
was the first cherished down.</p>
<p>"What's your name, dearie?" says Ma, which
I simply can't learn her not to be familiar
with servants.</p>
<p>"Anna," says the lump.</p>
<p>"And where do you come from?" says Ma,
giving a poor imitation of a detective.</p>
<p>"Old Country," says Anna. Well, Ma and
me at once exchanged glances, putting name
and place together.</p>
<p>"German?" says Ma. "Of course!"</p>
<p>"Swedish," says Anna, more lumpishly than
ever.</p>
<p>And just at that moment the air was filled
with a big laugh that none of us there had give
voice to. It was <i>some</i> shock, that laugh, and
Ma and me looked around expecting to see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>
who had come into the room, but it was nobody.
Anna was the only one who didn't seem
disturbed. She just went on sitting.</p>
<p>"Who was that?" says Ma.</p>
<p>"It must of been outside," I says, for it was
warm and we had the windows open so's to
let in the gasoline and railroad smoke and a
little fresh air.</p>
<p>"I guess so," says Ma. Then she went back
to her third-degree.</p>
<p>"So you're Swedish!" says Ma. "Can you
cook?"</p>
<p>"Good!" says Anna. "Svell cook!"</p>
<p>"Well, dearie!" says Ma, "why was it you
left your last place?"</p>
<p>"Too hot!" says Anna. And again me and
Ma exchanged glances.</p>
<p>"Are you a good American?" says Ma.</p>
<p>"Good American-Swedish," says Anna. And
immediately that awful laugh was repeated.
This time it was in the room, no doubt about
it. And yet no one was there outside ourselfs.</p>
<p>"My Gawd!" says Ma. "What was it?"</p>
<p>"Somebody is hid some place!" I says. "And
I'd like to know who is it with the cheap sense
of humor?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p>
<p>"It bane Frits," says Anna. "Na, na,
Frits!"</p>
<p>"But where on earth . . ." I was commencing,
when I noticed Anna was unwinding the
shawl off the package in her lap. And then
in another moment we seen Frits for our own
selves, for there he was, a big moth-eaten parrot,
interned in a cage, making wicked eyes
at us and giving us the ha-ha like the true Hun
he was!</p>
<p>"Frits and me, we stay!" announced Anna
comfortably. "We stay!"</p>
<p>"But look here," says I, "we didn't start
out to hire any parrots."</p>
<p>"Why Mary Gilligan!" says Ma, and I
could see she was scared that if Frits went
Anna would certainly go, too. "Why Mary
Gilligan, I thought you was fond of dumb animals!"
she says.</p>
<p>"And so I am," I says. "The dumber the
better. But this one is evidently far from it!
How am I going to figure out my income tax
with this bird hanging around?"</p>
<p>"Hang in den Kitchen!" says Anna firmly,
and at that we gave in, because cooks is cooks,
and what's a bird more or less after all? Still
I didn't like him on account of suspecting he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>
wasn't a neutral any more than Anna was for
all she claimed to be a Swede. I had read a
piece in the paper about where the Germans
was pretending to be Swede or Spanish or anything
they could get away with so's to remain
free to spread Bolshevism and influenza and
bombs and send up the price of dry and fancy
goods and put through the Prohibition amendment
and all them other gentle little activities
for which they are so well and justly known.</p>
<p>But I thought knowledge is power as the
guy which wrote the copy-book says, and I had
the drop on Anna through being on to her disguise
and beside which I could see Ma was going
to be miserable if she had to eat out while
her hand was in the sling, and so we took the
viper to our bosom, or in other words, we hired
her, and anyways, she had already accepted
the job and it would of been a lot of trouble
to get her out by force. Which, believe you
me, a person seldom has to do with servants
now-a-days, and confirmed me about her being
German because naturally people don't
hire them, if acknowledging to themselves that
they <i>are</i> Germans any more than they would
now deliberately import sauerkraut or any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>
other German industry. Do you get me?
You'd better!</p>
<p>But in this case there was a reasonable doubt
together with a real necessity, although from
what come of it, I feel, looking backwards, it
would of been better to eat out and suffer than
to of compromised with our patriotic consciences
like we done at that time. Because
there is <i>no</i> reasonable doubt but that Anna's
coming into the house was greatly responsible
for Ma's catching Bolshevism.</p>
<h3> II</h3>
<p>Not that she caught it off Anna directly,
because for once we had a cook which couldn't
talk or understand American and so there was
no use in Ma's hanging around the kitchen
worrying the life out of her. And so the very
first morning Anna was on the premises, Ma
commenced hanging around and worrying the
life out of me.</p>
<p>It happened we was waiting for the aeroplane
I was to go up in to arrive at the studio,
and so for once having my morning for myself,
I thought I would just dash off my income
tax return, and be done with it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p>
<p>But it seems that this is one of the things
which is easier said than done, the same as
signing the peace-treaty, and believe you me,
the last ain't got a thing on the former and I
don't know did Pres. Wilson make out his own
income tax return or not. But if he did and
the collector of Internal Revenue left him get
by with it as he must of or why would the Pres.
be in Paris, which is out of the country, well
anyways, if the Pres. did it alone, believe you
me, he will get away with the treaty all right,
and probably even write in this here Leg of
Nations under table 13, page 1, of return and
instructions page 2 under K (b) without having
to ask anybody how to do it, he having undoubtedly
shown the power to think.</p>
<p>Well anyways, I had taken all the poker-chips,
silk-sale samples, old theatre programs
and etc., out of my desk, found my fountain
pen and a bottle of ink, and was turning that
cute little literacy test around and over to see
where would I commence and had got no further
than the realization that most of my brains
is in my feet instead of behind my face, when
Ma comes in and commences worrying me because
she could not cook nor yet crochet like
the lillies of the field, or whatever that well-known<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>
idle flower was. I tried to listen at least
as politely as is ever required of a daughter to
her mother, but when I was trying to figure
out my answer to question No. 5 and getting
real mad over its personalness, I couldn't stand
to hear her complain over not being able to
crochet them terrible mats she makes which
are not fit for anything except Xmas presents,
anyways.</p>
<p>"The trouble with you, Ma," I snapped at
last, "is that you aught to get a live-wire outside
interest. You're getting out of date.
Ladies don't crochet no more and even knitting
has been dished by the armistice. You never
read a newspaper or a book. You should go
in for something snappy and up to the moment
like literature or jobs for soldiers, or
business, or something."</p>
<p>This got Ma's goat right off, like I hoped it
would.</p>
<p>"Oh, so I'm on the shelf, am I?" she says,
"well, leave me tell you Mary Gilligan, if it
wasn't for us back numbers you new numbers
wouldn't even <i>be</i> here, don't forget that! And
after having been the first American lady to
do the double backward leap on the two center
trapeses, I can hardly be called a dead one,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>
even if a little heavier than I was. And
from that time on I have never ceased to be
forward."</p>
<p>"You'd have to show me," I says, grimly.</p>
<p>"All right, I will," she says.</p>
<p>And believe you me, she did. She went and
got on her dolman and her spring hat and left
me in wrath and the midst of that income tax
with that "I'll never come back" air so familiar
to all well-regulated families.</p>
<p>Well, as I sat there struggling over where
to put the × and = marks, and how much exemption
could I get away with and still be on
speaking terms with myself, and wondering
whether the two fool dogs was dependents or
not—which they aught to be, seeing how helpless
they are and a big expense and Gawd
knows I keep them only for appearances and
they aught to come under the head of professional
expenditures, because no well-known
actress but has them to help out the scenery—well
anyways, I was deep in this highly high-brow
occupation in the comparatively perfect
silence of my exclusive flat where ordinarily
we don't hear a thing but the neighbors' pianola
and the dumb-waiter and the auto horns on the
drive and the train just beyond—well, this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>
comparatively for New York, perfect silence
was broke by an awful yell in the apartment
itself.</p>
<p>"Anarchy!" a terrible voice hollered. And
then again "Anarchy! Anarchy!"</p>
<p>Believe you me, my blood turned to lemon
soda for a moment and the boys in the trenches
never had worse crawling down the back than
me at that minute, coming as it did right on
top of me, writing in opposite to B. income
from salaries—you know—$60,000.00. The silence
which followed was even worse. And I
sat there sort of frozen while expecting a bomb
would go off any minute, and Gawd knows
sixty thousand is a lot of money, but any one
which investigated the true facts could quickly
see that I earn every cent of it and anyways
brains has a right to the bigger share, not to
mention ability, and if the way I worked myself
up from the lower classes ain't proof of
what can be done single-handed in America, I
don't know what is, and anybody which works
as hard and lives as decent as I done can do the
same, not that I want to hand myself anything
extra, only speaking personally, I am in a position
to know.</p>
<p>But just the same I wasn't reasoning at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>
minute and the justice, as you might say, of my
case didn't occur to me until later. As I sat
there trying to remember to think, the voice
yells it again, only this time with additions.</p>
<p>"Anarchy! Love Anarchy! Pretzel!"</p>
<p>And then I realised it was that parrot belonging
to the new cook.</p>
<p>Can you imagine my feelings on top of my
suspicions of her? You can! I got up and
went into the kitchen to see if a bomb was may
be being prepared for our dinner, but not at
all. The kitchen was scrubbed to the last tile,
something that smelled simply grand was baking,
the white hyacinths was in the sun on the
window-sill, and Anna was humming under her
breath while she rolled out biscuit-dough. The
radical parrot was shut up, but only as to
mouth, he being loose and walking about the
top of the clothes-wringer, making himself very
much at home, and giving me <i>some</i> evil look as
I come in.</p>
<p>"Aren't you afraid he'll get away?" I says.</p>
<p>"Huh?" says Anna, stopping rolling, and
blinking at me.</p>
<p>"Lose him—parrot——!" I says, pointing to
him and flapping my arms like wings.</p>
<p>"Frits?" she said. "Na—Frits like liberty!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p>
<p>And that was all I could get out of her. I
stuck around for a few minutes more, until
Anna commenced to give me the cook's-eye,
that bird backing her up and sneering at me
while dancing slowly on the wringer, but not
moving a step. So I got out and back to the
parlor but not to my work which Gawd knows
I had to take it over to the bank and leave them
do it for me after all—but sat down instead to
consider them two suspicious birds in the back
part of the flat. I personally myself was convinced
that there was something very wrong
about Anna. But so far she had said nothing
under the espionage law exactly and I didn't
know could you arrest a bird for too much liberty
of speech even though it loved anarchy,
and liberty and everything and was undoubtedly
capable of spreading propaganda what
with the voice it had.</p>
<p>Well anyways, as I was holding my marcelle
wave with both hands and racking what
little was underneath it over the situation, I
heard the key in the lock and in come Ma all
flushed and cheerful and pleased with herself
and handed me another jolt.</p>
<p>"I had a real sweet, pleasant morning," she
says, taking off her gloves and hat and wiping<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>
her face with one of them big handkerchiefs
like she used to carry in the circus and
will not give up. "A real nice time," she says,
egging me on to question her.</p>
<p>"Where have you been?" I says, like she
wanted me to.</p>
<p>"Oh, just to a little Bolsheviki meeting,"
she says, casual. And picking up her things
she started for her room.</p>
<p>"Hold on, Ma!" I says, having managed to
get my breath before she reached the door.
"Say that again, will you?"</p>
<p>She turned and come back at that, still keeping
up the careless stuff.</p>
<p>"Certainly," she says, "Bolsheviki meeting.
Are you interested in this up-to-date stuff?"</p>
<p>"Interested!" I says. "Of course I am. I'm
against it. Why Ma Gilligan!" I says. "Do
you know what Bolshevism <i>is?"</i></p>
<p>"Do you?" says Ma, sweetly.</p>
<p>"No!" says I. "And neither do they. But
I am sure it's the bunk, and I feel it's wrong,
and I am ashamed of you going!"</p>
<p>"How old-fashioned of you, dearie," says
Ma. "Have you ever heard a speaker or been
to a meeting?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p>
<p>"I don't need to!" I says short, being kind
of at a loss.</p>
<p>"Well, I have!" says Ma, triumphant.</p>
<p>"Where was it at?" I demanded.</p>
<p>"Down to the circus," says Ma. "In the
Bear-wrestler's dressing room. I went to call
on some of the folks and get the news and Madame
Jones, the new automobile act—very distinguished
lady—got me to it. A most exclusive
affair, with only the highest priced acts
invited!"</p>
<p>"And who spoke?" I says.</p>
<p>"Kiskoff, the bear-wrestler," says Ma. "It
certainly was interesting."</p>
<p>"What did he say?" I says, it getting harder
and harder to remember I was a lady and she
my only mother. "What did he say?"</p>
<p>"I dunno!" says Ma.</p>
<p>"You don't know!" I fairly yells. "And
why don't you know?"</p>
<p>"Because he only talks Russian!" says Ma,
and walked out, leaving me flat.</p>
<p>Well, believe you me, I was that upset I
scarcely took any notice of my lunch, although
it was a real nice meal, commencing with some
juicy kind of fish and eggs and ending up with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>
pancakes rolled up and filled with cream curds
and powdered sugar.</p>
<p>Ma took to these eats immensely, and she
and Anna exchanged a couple of smiles, which
made me feel like the only living American.
And when later in the day Ma told me she
thought she'd join the Bolshevists if she didn't
have to be immersed, and that this Kiskoff's
life was in danger for his beliefs just like the
early Romans and nobody knew where he lived,
but was a man of mystery, I couldn't stand it
another moment, but beat it for a long walk
by myself because my nerves was sure on edge
and that aeroplane stunt facing me next week.</p>
<p>But the walk wasn't altogether pleasant,
at least not at the start or at the finish, because
when I come out of our palatial near-marble
front stoop, there was a guy standing
which might just as well of had on the brass-buttons
and all because you could tell at once
by the disguise that he was a plain-clothes cop.
Not that I am so familiar with them, but their
clothes is generally so plain any one could tell
them. Do you get me? You do!</p>
<p>Well anyways, this bird was standing opposite
our door, and at the second glance I had
him spotted or nearly so, and when I come<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>
back from walking fast and wishing to Gawd
Jim was back to advise me and occupying our
flat instead of Germany, the fly-cop was still
there by which I became certain he was one;
the more so as I watched him from a window
once I was in, and the way he kept camouflaging
himself as a casual passer-by, ended my
doubts.</p>
<p>Well, was that some situation? It was!
Here was myself, a good American though but
an ignorant woman, surrounded by all the terrible
and disturbing elements of the day; with
everything which aught to be kept out of every
U. S. A. home creeping into mine, and all so
sudden that I hadn't got my breath yet much
less any action. In fact, I was sort of dizzy
with what was happening, and my head didn't
quiet down any when, after dinner that night,
I heard deep voices out in back.</p>
<p>"Anna has company!" says Ma in explanation.
"Two of them, and I think they are
talking Russian. At any rate one has a beard
almost as handsome as Mr. Kiskoff's."</p>
<p>This got my angora, and while no lady would
ever spy on her cook, this was surely a exception
and so I took a quiet peek in through the
pantry slide and there was Anna and two big<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>
he-men all talking at once. The window was
open a little ways from the top and on it was
Frits, also talking in Russian or something,
and no earthly reason why he couldn't take his
liberty and go right out if he had really wanted
it. And still another jolt was handed me when
I realised one of the men was our very own
ice-man!</p>
<p>Believe you me, when I went to bed that
night in my grey French enameled Empire
style I was wore out with the series of jolts
which the day has handed me. But it is not
my custom to sit back and talk things over too
long. I have ever noticed that the person which
talks too much seldom does a whole lot, and
that a quick decision if wrong, at least learns
you something, and you can start again on the
right track. And no later than the next day
after a funny, though good breakfast, of coffee
and new bread with cinnamon and sugar
baked into it and herrings in cream, I commenced
to act.</p>
<p>"Ma, are you going to keep up this Bolshevist
bull?" I says.</p>
<p>"I am!" she says. "You told me to do something
modern and I'm doing the very modernest
thing there is!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p>
<p>"You are going to be wrong on that by this
P. M.," I says, "or to-morrow at latest," I
says, "because there is or aught to be something
moderner, and that is United Americanism!"
I says. "And since the only way to fight
fire is with it, I am going to start a rival organization
and start it quick!" I says, "and
I'm going to do it on a sounder basis than your
people ever dreamed of because we'll all talk
English so's we'll each of us know what the organization
is about!"</p>
<p>"Why Marie La Tour!" says Ma, which it's
a fact she only calls me that when she's sore at
me. "Why, Marie La Tour, what is your organization
going to do?"</p>
<p>"I don't know yet beyond one thing," I says,
"we are going to <i>get together</i> and keep together!"</p>
<p>And so, without waiting for a come-back or
any embarrassing questions, I hustled into a
simple little grey satin Trotteur costume which
is French for pony-clothes and left that homefull
of heavy-weight traitors where a radical
parrot yelled "Anarchy" from morning till
night, and even the steam radiators had commenced
to smell like dynimite. And having
shut the door after me with quite some explosion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>
myself, I had the limousine headed to the
White Kittens Annual Ball Assn., which I was
due at it on account of all the most prominent
ladies in picture and theatrical circles being on
the committee and I naturally being indespensible
if only for the value of my name. So
I started off but not before I noticed that the
same plain-clothes John was again perched opposite
my front door.</p>
<h3> III</h3>
<p>All the way to the Palatial Hotel which the
meeting is always held in the grand ballroom
of, I kept getting more and more worked up.
Things had certainly gone too far when Bolshevism
had spread from the parlor to the
kitchen or visa-versa, I didn't know which, and
my own Ma being undoubtedly watched by
the more or less Secret Service, all because of
her having taken a fancy to them whiskers of
this Kiskoff cockoo, which is the only explanation
I could make of it, and after being a widow
twenty years she aught to of been ashamed of
herself. Still, it was a better explanation for
her to of lost her head than her patriotism,
and I tried to think this the case. And my own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>
position was something to bring tears to a
glass eye, what with my well-known war-work
and a perfectly good husband still in the
service. And I had made a threat to take action,
and had no idea what it would be, only
that now I certainly had to deliver the goods.</p>
<p>Well anyways, in despair and the limousine,
I finally arrived at the Palatial and there in
the lobby was several other White Kittens
which were also late, so we give each other's
clothes the once-over and asked after our
healths and etc., and then hurried up in the
elevator to where the meeting had already commenced.</p>
<p>Believe you me, my mind stuck to that meeting
about as good as a W.S.S. which has been
in your purse a month does when you find your
card. The room was as full as could be with
the biggest crowd I ever knew to turn out for
it. But somehow while I am generally pretty
well interested in any crowd, this time nothing
seemed to register except my own thoughts.
Even the chairlady couldn't hold my attention
partially because she was Ruby Roselle, and
what they wanted to elect that woman for I
don't know because her head is certainly not
the part of her which earned her theatrical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>
reputation and a handsome back is no disgrace
and if that and a handful of costume is art far
be it from me to say anything: but it is neither
refinement nor does it make a good executor
for a live organization like the Kittens. And
what is more, any woman which had her nose
changed from Jewish to Greek right in the
middle of a big feature fillum can't run any
society to suit me, not to mention the fact that
as I sat there watching her talk I come slowly
to realize that she had several jewels and a couple
of friends which was found to be pro-Germans
and been interned, although nothing was
ever proved onto Ruby herself.</p>
<p>Still, coming on top of what I had been going
through the last couple of days, I took a
sudden suspicion of her being lady-chairman
to one of America's oldest organizations of the
female gender, it having been formed 'way
back in 1911. And what is furthermore, as I
sat there hating her with her synthetic Christian
nose and her genuine Jewish diamonds,
the big idea come at last—a way to at once get
something started before she did, because how
did I know but she'd have the orchestra play
"die Watch on Rinewine," and feed us on
weenies and pumpernickle for supper at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>
ball if something radical wasn't done at once?
That is, I mean radical in the right sense, of
course. So when she says "Any other remarks?"
I jumped to my feet quick before she
could say "the meeting is injoined."</p>
<p>"Yes, Miss Ruby Schwartz Roselle, there
is," I said. "I will be obliged to have the floor
a minute."</p>
<p>"You can have it for all of me, dearie," says
Ruby, sweetly, as she recognized her enemy.
"Miss Marie La Tour has the floor."</p>
<p>And then without hardly knowing what I
was doing and forgetting even to feel did my
nose need powder before I commenced, I began
talking with something fluttering inside
me like a bird's wing. You know—a feeling
like a try-out before a big-time manager. But
behind the scare, the strength of knowing you
can deliver the goods.</p>
<p>"Ladies and fellow or, I should say, sister-Kittens!"
I commenced. "There was a time
when the well-known words 'Now is the time
for all good men to come to the aid of the
party' so thrilled America that it has become
not alone printed in all copy books, but is the
first sentence which is learned by every typewriter.
But since then times have changed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>
until, believe you me, now is the time for all
good parties to come to the aid of the nation
in order to show all which are not Americans
first just where they get off, and ladies, we
here assembled are a party not to be scorned,
what with a sustaining membership of over five
hundred, and more than a thousand one-dollar
members. And what is more, though admittedly
mere females we have a vote in most
places now, including this state, and while I
have no doubt you have always intended to be
good citizens, having the vote you are now
obliged to be so."</p>
<p>There was quite a little clapping at this, so
I was encouraged to go on, although Ruby's
voice says "Out of Order!" twice. Well, I
couldn't see anybody that was behaving disorderly,
so I just went ahead with my idea.</p>
<p>"And so my idea is this," I says. "That all
Americans, whether lady or gentleman citizens,
should get together in one big association for
U. S. A. Actually get together instead of
leaving things be. An association is, as I
understand it, intended for purposes of association.
And why not simply associate each
association with every other, canning all small
private schemes and party interests on the one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>
grand common interest of Bolsheviking the
Bolsheviks? I'm sure that if all parties concerned
will forget they are Democrats or Republicans
or Methodists or Suffragists—even
whether they are ladies or gentlemen, and remember
they are Americans, nothing can ever
rough-house this country like Europe has been
in several places, for in Union is Strength, in
God we Trust, but He helps those who helps
themselves, and if we'll only drop our self-interests
and make the union our first idea, God
help the foreigners which tries to help themselves
to our dear country!"</p>
<p>By this time the girls was giving me a hand
the like of which I never had before on stage
or screen, because their hearts were in them.
Do you get me? You do! And it was quite
a spell before Ruby could get order, although
she kept pounding with the silver cat's-paw of
her office. Finally, when she could make herself
heard, she says very sarcastic,</p>
<p>"And how does Miss La Tour suggest we
commence?" she says.</p>
<p>"By unanimously voting ourselfs 'The
White Kittens Patriotic Association of America,'"
I says at once. "Call a extra meeting
to change the constitution temporarily from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>
annual Balls and festivals for the benefit of
indignant members, to a association for associating
with other associations as before suggested.
Use part of the money from the ball
just arranged for, to advertise our idea in
newspapers and billboards, and believe you me,
by the time we ladies get that far, some gentleman's
association will be on the job to show
us a practical way to use ourselves!"</p>
<p>Well, the Kittens seemed to think this all
right, too, and in spite of Ruby, the next meeting
was called and we broke up in high excitement,
and I was surrounded by admiring
friends all anxious to tell me they felt the same
as me, and so forth and etc. And finally, after
I had been treated to lunch by several of them,
not including Ruby, I collapsed into my limousine,
and said home James, and set my face
flat-ward with a brave heart which knew no
fear on account of having accomplished something
worth while. Even the sight of the obtrusively
unobtrusive bull still waiting like the
wolf at the door, didn't dampen my spirit.</p>
<p>And it was not until I got upstairs that I
commenced realizing that my own home would
be the first place to set in order, and how could
I be a great American female leader with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>
Bolshevist mother and a German cook, and
how could I preach a thing with one hand and
not practice it with the other? Of course, I
could fire the cook, but how about Ma? It
was she herself settled that part of it the moment
I stepped into the parlor, for there she
was all alone except for the two dogs, and
what was more, all of a heap, beside.</p>
<p>"Well, thank goodness, you decided to come
home, Mary Gilligan!" she says. "Something
awful has happened!"</p>
<p>"Not Jim?" I gasps, my heart nearly stopping,
for he is always the first thing I think
of.</p>
<p>"Jim, nothing!" says Ma. "It's poor Kiskoff!"</p>
<p>"Oh, him!" I says, relieved. "What of it?"</p>
<p>"They arrested him this morning!" says Ma,
all broken up, the poor fish! "Arrested him
just before the meeting!"</p>
<p>"Good!" I says. "I knew they would. The
hound, he couldn't go around forever talking
Bolshevism!"</p>
<p>"It wasn't for that," says Ma.</p>
<p>"Then for what?" I says, blankly.</p>
<p>"For back alimony!" says Ma, almost in
tears. "It seems he married a girl out in Kan<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>sas
several years ago, and they parted when
the circus left, and it wasn't Russian he was
talking, but Yiddish! He speaks English as
well as me."</p>
<p>"And I suppose you'll tell me next that he
wasn't talking Bolshevism," says I.</p>
<p>"He wasn't—he was only asking them to
join the circus-workers' union Local 21—"
says Ma. "He explained it all to the cops!"</p>
<p>"Ma!" I demanded solemnly, a light coming
over me. "Ma, have you honestly got any idea
what this Bolshevism <i>is?</i> Come on, own up!"</p>
<p>"Certainly!" she says. "It's something like
Spiritualism or devil-worship, ain't it? A sort
of fancy religion!"</p>
<p>"Nothing so respectable!" I says very sharp,
yet awful relieved that I had guessed the truth.
"No such thing. Bolshevism is Russian for
sore-head. Religion my eye! It's about as
much a religion as small-pox is!"</p>
<p>Oh! the handicap of having no education!
I certainly felt sorry for Ma. But I needn't
of because she give me one of them looks of
hers which always turns my dress to plaid calico
and pulls my hair down my back again.</p>
<p>"Well, daughter, why didn't you say so in
the first place?" she says, just as if she'd caught<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>
<i>me</i> in a lie. But I let it pass and apologized,
I was so glad to find she was a fake. And Ma
promised to leave them low circus people alone
for a spell and come back to the White Kittens
again. I then announced I was going out
and fire Anna. At that a look of terror came
over Ma's face, and she restrained me by the
sleeve.</p>
<p>"Be careful how you go near that kitchen!"
she says warningly.</p>
<p>"For heaven's sakes, Ma!" I says. "What's
wronger than usual out there?"</p>
<p>"I dunno, but I think something is!" she
says. "I believe it's a bomb!"</p>
<p>"A bomb!" I says. "Whatter you mean?"</p>
<p>"Anna is out to market," says Ma, "and
the one with the black beard like poor Kiskoff's
brought it. 'For Anna,' says he, and
shoved it at me, and snook off down the stairs
like a murderer."</p>
<p>"Brought <i>what?"</i> I says.</p>
<p>"The bomb, of course!" says Ma, impatient
herself.</p>
<p>"How do you know it's one?" I says, a little
uneasy and wishing I had fired Anna before
she got this swell chance of firing us.</p>
<p>"Well, it looks just like the one in the picture<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>
where them three Germans blew theirselves
up in the newspaper!" says she. "And
it ticks."</p>
<p>"My Gawd!" I says. "Where is the thing?"</p>
<p>"On the kitchen-table," says Ma.</p>
<p>"Well," I says, bravely. "I think I aught
to take a look at it anyways."</p>
<p>"I wished you wouldn't," says she. But
she came down the hall after me like the loyal
mother she is, and the two of us stopped at the
threshhold as the poet says.</p>
<p>And there, sure enough, in the middle of
the spotless oilcloth on the kitchen table lay
a mighty funny looking package, about the
size of a dish-pan and done up in that black
oil-cloth them foreigners seem so fond of.
And between yells from that radical parrot,
who commenced his "I love Anarchy!" the
moment he set eyes on us, we could hear that
evil-looking package tick as plain as day.</p>
<p>Well, what with a mother and a father both
practically born on the centre trapese and used
myself to taking chances since early childhood,
I don't believe I'm more of a coward than most.
But I will admit my heart commenced going
too quick at that sight and the radical bird
was as usual loose in the place, and didn't make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>
my nerves any easier. But a stitch in time
often saves a whole pair of silk ones, and remembering
this, I took some quick action. I
turned up my georgette crepe sleeves, and the
front of my skirt so's not to splash it, and made
straight for the sink, keeping my eye on the
centre-table all the while.</p>
<p>"Look out!" screams Ma. "What are you
going to do?"</p>
<p>"Throw cold water on it!" I says. And
filling the dish-pan I took a long sling with
it, and pretty near drowned the kitchen table,
to say nothing of the scare I threw into Frits.
As soon as he quit, we listened again, but
my efforts had been in vain, for the thing
was still ticking—slow, loud ticks, and very
alarming.</p>
<p>"No good!" I says, sadly. "We'll have to
take severer measures!"</p>
<p>"Well, what'll they be?" says Ma.</p>
<p>"There's a plain-clothes cop outside looking
for trouble," says I grimly, "and here is
where I hand him a little," says I.</p>
<p>And then, without waiting even to roll down
the georgettes, I hurried to the window and
looked out. Like most cops, he couldn't be
seen at first when wanted, but finally he came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>
into view and I tried to catch his attention,
but was unable to at first. But finally he
heard me and looked up, and I beckoned.</p>
<p>"Bomb!" I says. "Hurry up!"</p>
<p>And did he hurry? He did! I would not
of believed a man his size could do it, but he
must of beat the elevator, for it never brought
me up that fast. When I let him in, his lack
of surprise was the most alarming thing which
had yet been pulled. He evidently <i>expected</i>
a bomb to be here.</p>
<p>"By golly, we'll get them now!" he says
triumphantly. "We been watching this place
for two months on account of having it
straight that there is a bunch of Bolshevist
bomb makers in this building or the next one,
and this is the first time anything has stirred!
Where is your bomb? Lead me to it!"</p>
<h3> IV</h3>
<p>Well, I didn't lead him exactly. Since he
was so set up about it, I let him go ahead, but
Ma and me followed close behind and told
him the way and everything. When he came
to the kitchen door Frits let out a yell "Anarchy!
I love Anarchy!" and you aught to of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>
seen the cop stagger in his tracks for a minute.
But he came to immediate, and we all stood
at attention while he give that bundle the once-over.
It was ticking away as strong as ever.</p>
<p>"Hey! get me a pail of water, quick!" says
the cop. I did it, and then, I will certainly
give him credit for it, he grabbed up the bundle
and plunged it in with both hands just as
Anna come in at the door.</p>
<p>Believe you me, I never saw anything so
funny as what happened then. The cop took
his hands out the water and stood there dripping
and staring at her.</p>
<p>"Hello, Anna!" he says. "What you doing
here?"</p>
<p>"Ay bane working!" says Anna. "How you
bane, Mike?"</p>
<p>"Pretty good!" he says. "But kind of busy
with a bomb we got here. Stand off while I
take a look. It has quit ticking and I guess
it's drownded!"</p>
<p>He lifted the wet bundle out, and the minute
Anna sees it she set up a yell as good as
one of her pet parrot's.</p>
<p>"That bane mine!" she says, making a grab
for it. But Mike held her off.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p>
<p>"Yours, eh?" he says, severely. <i>"Yours!</i>
Well, we'll just have a look at it, my girl!"</p>
<p>With which he undid the string, unfolded the
oilcloth, and there was a big new alarm-clock
with the price still on it—2 beans—and a
round, heavy cheese!</p>
<p>"Bane youst a present from may feller!"
says Anna coyly.</p>
<p>Well, did we feel cheap? We did. And
in addition to that Mike, the smart and brave
young cop, was disappointed something terrible.</p>
<p>"Who is this Anna?" I asked him soon's I
got my breath.</p>
<p>"Oh, a Swede girl—I know her a long time,"
he says foolishly. "Used to entertain me in
the basement when I was on the regular force.
She's <i>some</i> cook! You're lucky to have her."</p>
<p>And just then this ex-pro-German Bolshevist
cook we was so lucky to have starts to yell
again!</p>
<p>"Frits! Oy! Frits!" she says. "He bane
gone! Make un yoump back!"</p>
<p>And sure enough, there was Frits on the
fire-escape of the flat next to us. He had give
one hop and a flutter and got across, where he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>
sat, silent for once in his life and giving us
the evil-eye.</p>
<p>"Yoump back," says the cook in passionate
entriety. "Yoump back to your Aniky that
you love! All day you yell you love may an'
now you leave may!"</p>
<p>And as she said them words still another
weight was lifted from my shoulders, although
not from hers, for instead of jumping
back, that radical bird which it seemed was
not a radical after all and acting like the most
conventional parrot in the world, commenced
to climb up the fire-escape of the other apartment
house, like he was leaving us forever.</p>
<p>"Yoump!" implored Anna, but he just
climbed, instead.</p>
<p>"Here, wait, and I'll get him!" says Mike.
"Glad to do it, Anna. I can step across easy
enough!"</p>
<p>Anna held his coat, and he swung hisself over
to the other side almost as neat as a picture-actor,
and commenced following that mean-hearted
bird up and up, story after story, until
that animal led him in at a open window
about three flats above. We waited in silence
and, believe you me, I had about commenced
to believe that bird and he was never coming<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>
out again, when down comes Mike, the bird
tucked into his vest, his face simply purple
with excitement. I never seen any acrobat
work swifter or quieter than he did. He landed
on the kitchen floor and closed the window
behind him before he even give Anna her bird.</p>
<p>"The telephone!—quick! The telephone—headquarters
at once—I've got that guy this
time at last! And to think that a damn bird
had to find him for me!"</p>
<p>And it was the truth. Frits, far from being
an alien, was a good little American parrot
and had actually led the cop to the very place
he had been looking for all that while, and
they arrested two guys and everything!</p>
<p>And after they got through the phone rang
and there was Goldringer's voice.</p>
<p>"The aeroplane has come, Miss La Tour,"
he says. "When will you be over?"</p>
<p>"First thing in the morning!" I says, relieved
to think of a quiet day ahead. Ain't it
grand to have work you love to do? It's so
restful!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p>
<hr style="width: 65%;" />
<h2>VI</h2>
<h3>THE GLAD HAND</h3>
<h3>I</h3>
<p><span class="smcap">I see</span> a piece in the paper where that ex-leading
headliner of the old German Big-Time
Circuit, William Hohenzollern, him that used
to appear in the spiritualistic act known as
"Me and God," claims he had no hand in
starting those fireworks in Europe which has
recently ended in a Fourth of July celebration.
And although myself a good American
and looking with doubt upon any statement
known to be German, I am sort of inclined
to believe him. At any rate, to believe that
he was not the whole cheese in the matter, but
only a sort of limp limberger, or swiss, and
full of holes. Because it's my experience personally
myself, that a strong personality with
a clean-cut idea can usually get a thing done
if they elect theirself boss and stick on the
job until it is finished, but if they call a committee<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>
meeting and discuss the action before
them, the whole idea is likely to get stalled.
Why, look at Congress! Not that I, being
a mere lady of the female sect, know why or
how they get stalled, or on just what. But
it's a cinch they do and are, and you can prove
it by any editorial page in the country. And
it seems that Billy the Bone-head, confessed
to the reporter, which managed to get this
Sunday story printed, that a committee meeting
of Yonkers or something was called about
the war, he, Bill the Badman, not having the
bean to go to it alone, and it was them ruined
the war, or so he says. Which goes to show
that not alone in the theatrical and moving-picture
worlds do the heads of departments
alibi their flivvers, but also in the King-business,
and it's a habit which may even yet ruin
the former, as it pretty near has the latter,
unless they quit shirking and deliver better
goods. Because if the Head Has-Been had
had any real thinker and had thought up the
war all by his little self and forced it on his
book-keeper, cashier and so forth, he might of
got away with it like Napoleon and Rockefeller
and Eva Tanguay and a lot of them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>
which has thrust riches and success upon theirselves.</p>
<p>But no committee can ever do that sort of
thing. It takes a single-handed personality,
and I guess mabe the biggest bluff Germany
has had to confess to is her ex-leader. He
seems the A-1 example of how true it is that
well-known tailors' ad, "Clothes make the
man." Also it inspires me to invent a quotation
to hang beside the famous one of Shakespeare's,
I think it is "Do it now!" which you
see so often, mine being "Do it yourself!"
Well, you will if you are the able one on a
committee. Everybody which has served on
one knows that every committee is composed
of the one which does all the work and three to
six others which uses most of their vitality and
imagination in thinking up excuses and offering
them.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, the foregoing is why I simply
eliminated the other members of my
Theatrical Ladies' Committee of Welcome to
Our Returning Heroes. And eliminating
them was so simple, too. I just didn't call any
committee. And why would I, what with the
knowledge I had gained through former experiences?
Believe you me, a lady which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>
learns by experience is a great little time-saver,
although admittedly rare, but in my line you
don't fall out of a air-plane more than once,
and any successful picture actress and dancer
like myself will tell you the same. So as to
committees, none for me, thanks just the same,
as the man said to the soda clerk the morning
of July first, 1919 A. D., which is Latin
for Anti-Drinking. Not that I will ever again
try to get into the strong-character class with
the aforementioned celebrities, for a reputation
for doing anything well is as good as a
signed contract to do it. And my advice to
young girls is, don't let it be known you can
do anything well or you'll have to deliver constantly.
Look as ignorant as possible whenever
anything is suggested except the thing
you are burning to get after, or your time will
be taken up with a lot of useless side-lines that
get you nowheres. There is a person for every
job if you just let the job alone until the right
person finds it. Did you ever notice the way
simps which can't do a thing always get it
done for them? You have! Well—from this
on, here's where I look like a poor fish whenever
anybody outside of a motion-picture magnate<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>
or a theatrical manager makes a noise
like work to be done.</p>
<p>All the amateur stuff can be taken care of
by the sweet womanly women who ain't got
anybody to support except their dressmakers,
and not by a mere professional earning near
a hundred thousand a year like I. My final
lesson on working with volunteer boards and
committees is a un-wept memory, and believe
you me, that Chateau Terry battle had nothing
on some of the War Relief Committee
board rooms I seen in executive session and
keep the home fires burning is right, we done
it, especially the White Kittens Belgian Relief,
which it's a fact we nearly split over
whether we'd print our postcard appeals on
pink or yellow cards!</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>Well, anyways, I suppose these relief committees
was a big help to them that was on
them if not to any one else, and after all a lot
of money somehow got left to do good with
after expenses was paid. But the biggest relief
I know of come from relieving ourselfs
of them relief committees, and the last of all
was the Welcome Home one.</p>
<p>I wouldn't of gone on it in the first place<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>
only I was so low in my mind. And who
wouldn't be a little low even with my cheery
disposition after such a morning as I went
through, first commencing with the loss of
Maude.</p>
<p>Not that I had ever liked her nor 'Frisco,
her husband, either, but losing her was worse
than living with her any day, and when Ma
come in and broke the news I wasn't in any
mood for it, struggling as I was over the joint
contract which Goldringer had just sent on
from Los Angeles as a nice surprise and welcome
for Jim which we were expecting to hear
he would be leaving France any day now. It
called for seventy-five thousand per each of
us for six joint pictures, our expenses to the
coast, and I was holding out for a car while
there and a special publicity man of our own
to be paid by them, but chosen by us, meaning
Rosco, which has so faithfully let the public
know every time I sneezed these last five
years and has a way of disguising a two column
ad so's the editor thinks it's a news item.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, I was reading through all
that foreign language portion of this contract
and had waded past about a page of "to wit,
viz.: party of the first part" stuff, which sounds<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>
like it didn't mean anything, but is where they
sometimes slip one over on you, when in come
Ma with a big home-made cruller partly in
her hand and partly in her face. She was
dreadfull agitated but had to get rid of the
first part of the second party before she could
speak, and I put in a few seconds of watchful
waiting, wondering how could she do it, for
Ma had put on at least thirty lbs. the last few
months and believe you me, she was no slif
before then, weighing some amount she would
never tell just what and anybody knows what
that means with a woman. But up to just
recent she had gone through spells where she
was making at least the faint motions of dieting,
or when not that, sighing and saying she
hadn't really ought to over every second helping
but taking it. Do you get me? You do!</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>Since she had heard Jim was coming back,
however, she had taken to eating everything
in sight regardless. It give me real pleasure
to think of any mother-in-law feeling that way
about her daughter's husband and dancing
partner coming back, for with many mothers
it is nothing of the kind. So I made no remarks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>
upon the cruller, and finally Ma give
a gulp and gasped out the bad news.</p>
<p>"Maude is gone!" she says.</p>
<p>"Gone?" says I. "Whatter you mean,
gone?"</p>
<p>"I can't find her no place!" says Ma. "And
I looked everywheres!"</p>
<p>This give me a most unpleasant feeling down
my back, and I got to my feet in a hurry.</p>
<p>"Are you sure she ain't hid?" I says, "like
the last time," I says.</p>
<p>"Come and see for yourself!" says Ma, and
I went, you can bet on that! And sure enough,
she wasn't in the box. Ma lifted the wire off
the top and lifted out the two old sofa cushions
we had put in for comfort and only
Maude's husband, 'Frisco, was there. He was
as usual lying in about five coils like a boiler-heater,
with his wicked-looking flat head on
the top, and he stuck out his oyster fork of
a tongue, and give us a little hiss, much as to
say, why was we always disturbing him. But
no Maude.</p>
<p>"Ma!" I began, catching a guilty look on
her face. "Ma Gilligan, you left that snake
out again! After all the times I ast you not
to!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p>
<p>"Well, it was just for a minute!" she says.
"I was playing with her, and then I thought
maybe the crullers I had made was cool by
then and I went and got a few and when I
come back she was gone!"</p>
<p>"Well, she's got to be found, that's all!" I
snapped. "All this comes from you insisting
on keeping in with them low circus people
and boarding their acts for them!"</p>
<p>"But Madame Estelle had to stay with her
husband when he fell offen the trapeze and
they so devoted!" says Ma. "And I didn't
take the big snakes—the substitute is using
them—but only her own dear pets which the
landlady wouldn't leave her have in her room."</p>
<p>"And now one of them is loose in <i>my</i> room!"
I says, "which is the general result of charity
which, as the poet says, had ought to begin
at home," I says. "And you know, Ma, how
I feel about snakes. There's nobody in the
psycopathic ward got anything on me. If
only they had even a few feet instead of so
many yards, I wouldn't mind them so much."</p>
<p>"Well, now Mary, I'm real sorry," says
Ma. "But not half so sorry as Madame Estelle
will be if anything happens to Maude!
I'm real fond of the little beauty myself, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>
if you had been with a circus all the years
I was, you would understand her better!"</p>
<p>Well, believe you me, it wasn't a lack of
understanding with me, it was a religious conviction,
and why not, for hadn't them beasts
made trouble beginning with the original eviction
of undesirable tenants, and was I to think
it likely that our own janitor would be any
more lenient if Maude was to get, say, as far
as the elevator? Keeping snakes never got a
tenant in right yet and loose ones might set
the first of May forward as many months as
was necessary. Not to mention my own personal
feelings in the matter, which it's a fact
I once broke a contract on the Small-Time
years ago because a snake-charmer come off
just as I was going on and I used to meet her
and them in the wings every time.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, I will say it for Ma, she
certainly turned in and helped me make a
thorough search for Maude, which was going
some for a lady of her figure. Looking for a
vanished snake in a apartment means considerable
gymnastics, because nothing can be
overlooked with safety, and I didn't want that
parlor-eel slipping anything over on me—especially<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>
her cold stomach in the middle of
the night across my face, for instance.</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>So I and Ma looked under all the furniture
and in the pedalcase of the pianola and in
the vases and behind the steam radiators, back
of the big gold clock, inside the victrola, under
the rugs, back of the pictures on the wall and
every place:—but no Maude. Finally we
even took a look out in the hall, although we
knew nobody had opened the front door, and
after that we opened the wall safe where we
keep our diamonds in a stocking, this being
a compromise between Ma's habits and my
common-sense. And then we had a peep into
the ice-box where Ma found a saucer of pudding
which she had someways overlooked at
supper but no snake.</p>
<p>And after we had felt under the bath-tub
with my best lavender umbrella which what
with the limousine it was the first use I ever
had for it, and then taken a forlorn hope into
the soiled-clothes hamper, we give it up, and
sat down with ruined georgette blouses and
perfectly wild looking hair and all heated up
like a couple of wrestlers. Any one coming
in then would of thought we had been indulging<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>
in a family discussion of some kind, and
for a matter of that it's the truth. I said a few
raw remarks about the kind of a home she
run for me and I working as hard as cider to
keep it and now she left snakes around, Gawd
knows where, and how would a artist like myself
get the rest to do justice to my work on
the bomb-explosion scene in the last reel of
"Bosh or Bolshevik?" which I was going to be
shot in only the next day, and if she had to
support me instead of I her, she would have
a right to leave any animals or minerals around
she chose, but this was my flat and although
Gawd knew she was welcome, pretty soon we
would have none if I was to be made a nervous
wreck out of instead of the biggest nerve in
pictures. Yes, I said that and a lot more
pretty mean stuff as only a daughter can—for
even with my refinement I am but a mere human
after all, and under the glittering success
of my career is several common human
failings and at times I act no different from
any less well-known female in the bosom of
my family.</p>
<p>So I had the last word and Ma was in wrong
and went to get lunch without a come-back
out of her. Alas! Had I but canned that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>
foolish chatter of mine! But how could I know
she was going to act like she done later because
of it? You can't remember forwards and if a
person could, it's ten to one they'd quit before
they was off the bottle and go back to Heaven
whence they come, life being so full of mistakes
you could of avoided if only you had
done something different from what you did!</p>
<h3> II</h3>
<p>Well, anyways, Ma went back to the kitchen
to fix up a little snack of waffles and honey and
poached eggs on hash and cream-cake and
strawberries with a cup of cocoa and whipped
cream for a light lunch, her lunches being
light about the way a "light" motor truck is,
and I went back to my joint contract and was
so mad I concluded to write into it not alone
expenses and Rosco but a cottage or bungaloo,
as it is called in Los Angeles, while out
there. With which I wrote a refined but firm
letter to Goldringer, saying this was my final
word on the matter and spoke also for Jim.
Then I enclosed the contract and Ma called
out the cocoa was getting cold and so I stamped
and put it in the hall-slot which I never have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>
a feeling any letter going down it is headed
for anybody except maybe the devil, and not
even him unless it don't get stuck on the way.
And then I ate, though not with much appetite,
what with expecting any moment to see Maude
crawl out from some place, and Ma being quiet
to a extent not to be fully accounted for by
three plates of waffles. It wasn't natural in
her, that quiet, but I remembered the doughnuts
and laid it to the sequence. Still I tried
to get her to talk, as talking, if about herself,
generally cheers her quite a lot.</p>
<p>"Anything ail you, Ma?" I says.</p>
<p>"Nothing much," says Ma, lighting into the
cream-cake. "Nothing to speak of."</p>
<p>"Tell me about it then!" I says. But Ma
wouldn't. She heaved a big sigh and handed
me a substitute for what was really on her
mind. It was something just as good, I credit
her for that.</p>
<p>"You know the stuff you ordered from
Schultz?" she says.</p>
<p>"You mean the wet goods I ordered to keep
Jim from parching to death this summer?" I
says, because although Jim is far from a real
drinking man, he having his profession of
dancing always in mind even after eleven P. M.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>
and Gawd knows never fails to realize that
sound acrobatics is the basis of all good dancing
which a drunkard never yet was, or at least
not for over two seasons; still, in spite of all
this, Jim is a mere male and a drink or two,
especially if difficult to get, is not by any means
objectionable to him. And beside he had been
two years in France and I didn't want him to
feel it had anything on America when he
come home, even if I had to go so far as to
myself personally replace what Congress had
taken away. Do you get me? You do! And
I had done it as far as my bank account, cellarette
and the liquor-dealer permitted. Which
looked like it was going to postpone the
drought quite sometime for us. And while
here and there stuff like champagne and
brandy and vermouth had to be bought, like
remnants on a bargain counter—just kind of
odds and ends of each—I had one satisfaction
out of the buy, and that was getting a case
of Old Home Rye—absolutely the last case
in the city—probably the last in the whole
entire U. S. A., and it was Jim's one best bet.
A high-ball of this—just one—with his dinner
was about his exact idea of drinking, and I had
calculated that the three gallons, taking it at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>
his rate would last him pretty near a year, and
by that time some new vice would surely of
been invented to take its place.</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>Well, anyways, I had ordered it and paid
for it, and there wasn't any more of it anywheres,
and it and the contract with Goldringer
was two of the best surprises I had for
Jim.</p>
<p>"Well," says Ma. "I can't say I approve
of the demon Rum coming into our—your
house, but once money is paid out, I like to
see the goods—<i>all</i> the goods, delivered," she
says.</p>
<p>"What's this leading up to?" I asked.</p>
<p>"To the way that man Schultz cheats you!"
says Ma. "He didn't send the Old Home
Rye!"</p>
<p>Believe you me, never have I been handed
a meaner deal than that, no, not even the night
Goldringer first heard of me and came to see
my try-out for the big time and my pink tights
didn't come.</p>
<p>"Ma!" says I. "Why don't you call him
up and find out why didn't he?"</p>
<p>"I've done that!" she says. "And he claims
on his oath it was sent with the rest. I spoke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>
to the boy which brought it and then to Schultz
himself. They both claim they give it to
Rudie."</p>
<p>Rudie was the janitor but he had missed
his profession. He had ought to of been a
sleight-of-hand man, for he could make things
disappear in a way which would of delighted
a morning matinée audience, especially those
under twelve years of age. Believe you me,
though, he was never known to make anything
grow where nothing had been before—not rabbits
or even silk handkerchiefs, but it's the truth
that he had onct or twice caused a vanished
quart of cream to reappear if given a sufficiently
hard call quick enough after it was
missed. And the minute I heard he was cast
for a part in my tragedy, I decided to hear
him read his lines right off without no delay,
because it was practically impossible that he
could of got away with more than a quart yet
and I was prepared to go through the business
of believing him when he come to the
description of how he had dropped it by accident
and too bad but it broke.</p>
<p>Which was all right in theory, but Rudie did
nothing of the kind. Evidently so long as he
was lying he had made up his mind it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>
as well to be killed for a case as a quart, as the
poet says, and when I sent for him and he had
kept me waiting while he sifted the ashes and
pounded on the steam pipes and talked to the
garbage man and got a light from the cop and
chatted with the elevator-girl and a few little
odds and ends like that just to show me where
I got off, he finally decided to come up. Well,
it was seven months to Xmas, so what could
I expect? Anyways, he finally made his entrance,
down R. C. to footlights, in my Louis-size
drawing-room, leaving tracks behind him
which Ma spotted with a angry eye as fast as
he laid them, and with all the well-known
courtesy of the proletariat he looked me in the
eye.</p>
<p>"Well?" he says.</p>
<p>"Say, Trotsky!" I says, for I had never
liked this bird, as he was on one continued
drunk. "Look here, Lenine," I says, glad of
the chance to insult him. "A case of fine
whisky at sixty dollars net seems to of been
avoidably detained in your dug-out. I expect
that with a little searching you can stumble on
it. And as for that bottle you broke by accident,
don't bother to mention it," I says, "because
I am gladly doing so for you," I says.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>
"Only kindly find the rest and we will also forget
about this morning's cream."</p>
<p>Probably I hadn't ought to of been so generous,
for Rudie sort of swayed a little and
give me a pleasant childlike smile out of his
unshaved doormat of a face.</p>
<p>"Dunno wash you mean!" he says, real pleasant.</p>
<p>"Jim is right about the kick in that stuff,"
I says, eyeing him critically. "You certainly
have a swell bun!"</p>
<p>"Why, Mish La Tour!" says Rudie. "Don't
drink a dropsh! Never toush it."</p>
<p>And with that he give a sigh of disappointment
in me which made the place smell like a
bar-room!</p>
<p>"But of coush I'll shee if itsh down stairsh!"
he says.</p>
<p>Well, there was no use in arguing with him,
I could see that all right, all right, but I left
him know I wasn't swallowing any such a poor
alibi as his own word.</p>
<p>"All right, you second-hand shock absorber!"
I says. "Maybe I can't jolt the truth out
of you, but I will hand you one small piece of
information before you take your reluctant departure.
You'll find that whiskey or the cops<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>
will. And if they don't get me a judgment
against you, one will come from heaven, that's
a cinch, for you not only got the stuff, but
you took it off a returning soldier which is a
bigger crime than mere patriotic stealing would
be," I says. "You wait and see what'll happen
to you if you don't come across! We got
a long score to settle, we have, and right always
wins out in the end, and that's my middle
name!"</p>
<p>Well, he went away very proud and hurt to
think I would suspect him of such a crime, he
being that kind of a drunk. Do you get me?
Of course! Gosh! How I do hate to see a
person in liquor; really, I think prohibition will
be a good thing for all of us, and was myself
only storing up a little, for exceptional reasons.
And when a person begins talking about
federal prohibition and their constitutional
rights I can't help but wonder why they don't
consider it in the physical as well as the political
sense.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, it was a blow to lose that
Old Home, and awful irritating on top of
Maude. And then, while pulling myself into
one of these new accident-policy-destroying
narrow skirts which belongs with what is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>
through courtesy called my new walking suit,
the hall-girl brought the mail and Musette give
it to me in the midst of my negligee and struggles
and I stopped dead when I seen the first
letter, for it was marked "Soldier's Mail" and
only one which has some one expected home
and at the same time welcome, can know how
that particular mark thrills. Musette observed
me register joy so she registers it too, and I
tore open the envelope forgetting the skirt
which had a death-grip on my knees, and
opened up the page in Jim's dear handwriting.</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>Did you ever come to a time in your life
where you had one trouble on top of another
until it seemed like nothing more could possibly
happen except maybe the end of the
world, and then something still worse was
pulled on you? You have! Well, this letter
was pretty near the end of the world to me—at
least a distinct postponement of anything
which could with any truth be called living.
For Jim wasn't coming back with the 70th after
all! As I read his words in that dear boyish
handwriting of his which he never had time
to learn to write better, being like myself quicker<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>
with his feet than hands, my eyes filled
with tears and I stumbled to the day-bed as
good as I could with the skirt, and sat down.
It seemed he had been put in charge of some
special work in Paris and it might be six
months before he'd get sent home! Six months!
And me getting all ready for a second honeymoon
inside of six weeks! And instead of being
out in the wholesome country with me at
Saratoga or Long Beach or Niagara Falls or
some place, he would be in Paris! That was
what I had to face and any woman will readily
understand my feelings.</p>
<p>Believe you me, I didn't care for Maude
or the Old Home or the contract or anything
for over three-quarters of a hour. And I had
to wash my face and powder my nose three
times after I was finally dressed on account
of breaking down again when just completed.</p>
<p>Whenever a person has a real sorrow come
to them the best way to do is control it quick
before it controls you. So after I had indulged
in the womanly weep which certainly
was coming to me, I braced up and got into
the new suit with the idea of taking as brisk a
walk as it would allow of. Then I put on a
new hat which I had intended for my second<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>
honeymoon but which would never see it or
him, as it would undoubtedly be out of style
by the time Europe had made up its mind one
way or another, and I was just going to leave
when the bell rung and Ma come in to say
it was a caller.</p>
<p>"It's that Mr. Mulvaney from the Welcome
Home Committee, the one that had you on the
'phone yesterday," says Ma. And after a minute
I kind of caught control of myself and says
well, all right, I would see him and went in.</p>
<p>Well, it sure is strange the birds they pick
out for these deeds of synthetic patriotism.
This one come from the neighborhood of Fourteenth
Street and must of got his appointment
of chief welcomer from the way he give the
glad hand. You would of thought he was
cranking a flivver that wouldn't crank the way
he kept on shaking after any real need was
past. And if he was to of greeted each of the
boys the way he done me, the army wouldn't
be demobilized in our generation! Also he had
a suit on him which spoke for itself and a
watch-chain which must of posed for them in
the cartoons of Capital—do you get me?
Sure! I and he had had a long talk on the
telephone as per above, and so as soon as he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>
left go his cinch on my hand, he got right down
to business.</p>
<p>"Now, Miss La Tour—er—it—er—gives
me great pleasure to think you will take charge
of the Theatrical Women's Division," he says.
"Er—I am a great admirer of yours—that
picture you done, 'Cleopatria,' now—great
stuff!"</p>
<p>Well, I let that pass, because how would
such a self important bird as this know my art
when he sees it, and if he enjoyed Theda, why
not leave him be? I changed the subject at
once for fear he would be confusing me with
Caruso next.</p>
<p>"And so I'm to spend ten thousand of the
hundred thousand iron-men raised by the Welcome
Committee?" I says hastily. "How nice.
What will it go for?"</p>
<p>"That is for you and your committee to decide,"
he says. "I'm sure you will think up
something tasty," he says. "And go to the
limit—we need ideas."</p>
<p>Well, anybody could see that. But I only
says all right.</p>
<p>"I suppose you are familiar with committees?"
says this human editorial-page-sketch.</p>
<p>"I'm never too familiar with anybody," I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>
says stiffly. "But I have been acquainted with
more than one committee."</p>
<p>"Well, here are the papers I promised you—the general scheme and so forth. The central
committee will meet as is indicated here.
See you at them. Pleased to of seen you off
the screen! You certainly was fine in 'Shoulder
Arms'!"</p>
<p>And before I could get my breath he had
looked at a handsome watch no bigger than
a orange, humped into his coat and was off in
a shower of language that left me no come-back.</p>
<p>Believe you me, I was glad when he had
squoze out through our typical apartment hall
and the gilt elevator had snapped him up. For
to hand me ten thousand to spend on welcoming
a bunch of other women's husbands was, to
soft pedal it, rubbing it in. I was only about
as upset as that spilled milk that was cried over
and no wonder at 18 cents a qt. Well, anyways,
it was no light thing to face, going on
with this work and Jim's letter scarcely dry
from my tears. But having promised over the
telephone and being given no chance to refuse
in the parlour, I would keep my word if not my
heart from breaking.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p>
<p>Because, anyways, if I was simply to do
nothing to occupy myself except maybe a few
thousand feet of fillum and rehearsing my special
dance act for the Palatial and my morning
exercises and walking my five miles a day and
all that quiet home stuff which gives a person
too much time to think, what would I think,
except a lot of unprintable stuff about any administration
which was keeping him in a town
like Paris, France? And the only comfort I
could see in sight was to work hard to give the
boys that <i>was</i> coming a real welcome and remember
that Jim never was a skirt-hound—that
I ever saw.</p>
<h3> III</h3>
<p>Having reached this resolve I decided to go
on the walk I had mapped out anyways, because
what is home with a disappeared snake
in it? And so I started, and as I come past
the door in the lower hall, which its marked
"Superintendent," which is Riverside-Drivese
for Janitor, what would I hear but Rudie singing
to himself out of the fullness of his heart
or something.</p>
<p>I went out in wrath and the spring sun and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>
after a while I begun to feel less sore and miserable
in my heart, partially because of the
fresh air and partially through irritation at
the stylish trouser-leg that both of mine was
in. But the day was too sweet for a person to
stay mad long. Ain't it remarkable the way
spring can creep into even a city and somehow
make it enchanted and your heart kind of
perk up and take notice—do you get me? You
do, or Gawd pity you! It's the light, I guess,
just the same as the audience holds hands when
they turn on the ambers with a circular drop
for a sunset or something.</p>
<p>And by the time I had walked along the
Avenue and seen all the decorations which was
already put up for the first regiments home,
I commenced getting real fired and excited
with my new job. It looked like the powdered-sugar
industry was going to suffer because
about all the plaster in the country seemed to
be being used on arches which looked like dago-wedding
cakes and you actually missed the
dolls dressed like brides and grooms off the top
of them. And here and there was some funny
looking columns of the same white stuff and
on the Public Library steps a bunch of spears
and shields was thrown all over the place just<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>
as if a big Shakespearian production had suddenly
give it up in despair and left their props
and hoofed it back to Broadway. It certainly
was imposing.</p>
<p>Up at 59th Street was a arch that looked
like Coney Island frozen solid. It was all of
little pieces of glass:—heavy glass and millions
of pieces. I don't know what good they
did, but they shone something grand, and must
of cost a terrible lot of money. I guessed the
boys would certainly feel proud to march under
it provided none of it fell on their heads.</p>
<p>Believe you me, by the time I got home my
head was full of imaginary architecture like
Luna Park and Atlantic City jumbled together
with a set I seen in "The Fall of Rome"
when we was shooting it at Yonkers. And
after I had squirmed out of my walking suit
and was a free woman once more, in a negligee,
which is French for kimona which is
Japanese for wrapper, well, anyways, I lay
in it and opened up the evening paper because
I am not one to let the news get ahead
on me and have acquired the habit of reading
it regular the same as my daily bath.</p>
<p>But it was hard to keep my attention on it
because Maude was still missing and also I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>
kept thinking, when not of her, of the lovely
arches and so forth my ten thousand would
build. I had about settled on pink-stucco,
with real American beauties strung on it and a
pair of white kittens in plaster—symbol of the
best known Theatrical Ladies Association in
Broadway, and I expect the world—at the
top, when I opened the paper again and I see
something which set my mind thinking.</p>
<p>"70th will add thousands to ranks of unemployed."</p>
<p>Yes, that's just what it said. And I went
on and read the piece where it said how enough
men to start a real live city was being fed at
soup-kitchens and bread lines, not in Russia
or Berlin, but right in N. Y. C., N. Y., U. S.
A.! Somehow, coming right on top of all their
arches and so forth, it sort of struck me in the
pit of my stomach and give me the same sinking
sensation like a second helping of griddle-cakes
a hour later—you know! The thought
of all that money going on arches that after
they was once marched under was no good to
anybody but the ones which built them and the
ones which carted them away, had me worried.
Think of all the soup that glass and
plaster would of made! Do you get me? You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>
do or you're a simp! And it also besides struck
me that while the incoming boys would undoubtedly
enjoy them city frostings, them
which had already marched under them and
was now in the bread-line must be kind
of fed up with it. Then I thought of the ten
thousand intrusted to me to spend which had
been gladly given in small sections by willing
citizens who wanted to do some little thing
to show appreciation to the boys which had
went over there, and I begun to realize I had
been told I could spend it anyways I wanted
to.</p>
<p>And when I thought of that pink arch and
roses I blushed, although nobody had, fortunately,
heard me mention it, except the two
fool dogs, aloud.</p>
<p>Believe you me, I then see like a bolt from
the blue, as the poet says, that arches was
all right in their way but they was in the traffic's
way at best and made mighty poor eating.
And so naturally with Ma having it continually
before me, I thought of ten thousand
dollars worth of eats, because while there is
quite a lot of red X canteens for men in uniform,
how about the poor birds which had just
got out of a uniform and not yet got into a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>
job? Besides there is something kind of un-permanent
about food unless a salary to get
more with follows it as a chaser.</p>
<p>And so I lay there in comfort all but for
the thought of Maude, and figured and figured
what would I do. It seemed it was a
cinch to get money from people to give the
boys a welcome but what to spend it on was
certainly a stiff one. But after a while I commenced
to get a idea. Which it's a fact I am
seldom long without one when needed which
together with my great natural talent is what
has made me the big success I am.</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>Work! That was the welcome the boys
needed. Work and a little something substantial
to start on. So this is what I figured. Suppose
we was to divide up that ten thousand,
how many boys would it take care of, and
how?</p>
<p>Say we had ten men. A thousand each.
Too much, of course. Twenty men. Five
hundred per ea. Still too much. Well, then
forty men. Two fifty. Well, they could use it
of course, but it was not a constructive idea. It
was too much for a present and not enough
to invest. So how about 80. Well, that was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>
$125. per man. This was doing something
pretty good by eighty men that would very
likely need it, but it seemed sort of unfair not
to take in more of the boys. So I split it again
and had one hundred and sixty boys with
$62.50 in their pockets.</p>
<p>Well, I felt kind of good over this idea
and there was only two real troubles with it
which is to say that $31.25 for three hundred
and twenty boys looked nicer if there was
only some way to handle it right. But how?</p>
<p>I put in another hard think and then I got it.
The way to make that $31.25 a real present
was to make it a payment on something and
then with the other hand pass out a job at the
same time, which would not alone keep the
soldier but allow him to cover the difference.</p>
<p>And to get away with this all I needed now
was a popular investment and 320 perfectly
good steady jobs.</p>
<p>Well, with the Victory Loan the first part
was easy enough, and I concluded to pay
twenty-five dollars on each of three hundred
and twenty one hundred dollar victory notes,
making myself responsible for the lot the same
as if I was a bank and getting a job for each
note and having the giver of the job hold the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>
note on the soldier and pay me the instalments
and I would pay myself back, or if not nobody
would be stung outside of me, supposing
any one of them failed to come across. I was
going to take a big lot for myself and another
ten didn't much matter.</p>
<p>And then with the remaining $6.25 each,
well, I would pool that for leaflets enough to go
around the whole division and on the leaflet I
would have printed the facts and a list of the
jobs and just what they was, with how much
kale per week went with them, and see that
the boys got them while the parade was forming
and then it would be up to them, because
the home folks can only do so much and then
it's up to the army their own selves just as
with munitions and sugar and red X work
while the big show was on. They did the work
but we gave them the job—we and the Germans.
And now all we could do again was to
give them a job—and it's enough, judging
from how they went after the first one.</p>
<p>And then, just as I come smack up against
the awful fact of where would I get them jobs
Ma come in and says the hot-dogs and liberty-cabbage
which it's the truth we always translate
them into American at our table, was getting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>
cold and as long as I was paying for them
I'd better eat them while they was fit. So
I says all right and we went in and did so.</p>
<p>Believe you me, it certainly is a remarkable
thing the way you start on a afternoon's work
like I done, all full of vigor and strength and
how your ideas and courage and everything will
sort of leak away toward the time to put on
the feed-bag at Evensong. And how again
the ideas and pep comes back in the evening
once you have eaten. There was almost perfect
silence the first few minutes we sat down
or would of been except for Ma taking her
tea out of the saucer, which I can't learn her
not to do and the only way I keep her from
disgracing me at the Ritz and etc., is to make
sure she don't order it. But when the first
pangs was attended to I commenced to feel
more conversational.</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>"Work," I says, thinking of what I had
been thinking of. "Work is the one thing that
stands by a person. Everything else in life
can go bluey and their work will see them
through. That's why it's been so popular all
these years, and where these Bolsheviks make
their big mistake. Because they don't work<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>
and not working they get bored to death and
so they commence rioting. Do you remember
that quotation from that well-known cowboy
poet, Omaha Kiyim, "Satan will find business
still for idle hands to do?" How good
that applies to strikes—idle hands—ain't that
perfect? And it written so long ago!"</p>
<p>"How long?" says Ma.</p>
<p>"Oh, I dunno. Maybe three hundred
years," I says.</p>
<p>Ma laid down her knife and spoon, she being
quite entirely through, and looked me in
the eye.</p>
<p>"I will remember them words, daughter,"
she says very solemn.</p>
<p>And it's the truth I never noticed how serious
she was about it until I come to look
back on it nearly three weeks later.</p>
<h3> IV</h3>
<p>And during that time which has been so
immortally fixed in writing by the grandest
book with the same name, I was as busy as
the great American cootie is supposed to be
on his native hearth—only it ain't that piece
of furniture but another, of course. Do you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>
get me? I'm afraid so! Well, I was as busy
as what you think. To begin with I called
a committee-meeting in the privacy of my
grey French enamel boudoir where I wear my
boudoir cap and have the day-bed hitched and
this committee meeting consisted entirely of
myself and the two fool dogs. And after I
had gone through all the motions, I appointed
myself a sub-committee of one to carry out
the meeting's resolutions and do all the work.</p>
<p>This is about what would of happened if
I had done it the regular way and asked Ruby
Roselle and Maison Rosabelle and the other
girls. We would of had a mahogany table
and a gavel and a pitcher of ice-water and a
lot of hot-air and a wasted morning and in
the end I would of been the goat anyways, so
I thought why not do it single-handed in the
first place and be done? I could print all their
names on the leaflets and they would be perfectly
satisfied.</p>
<p>So having got over the necessary formalities
as you might say, I accepted the nomination
and got to work. Fortunately I wasn't
doing anything except a solo dance at the
Palatial at supper-time and one picture. And
so I had most of my days to myself. The Fixings<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>
on the Avenue grew and blossomed and
so did my contribution to the Welcome Home
Committee. I didn't get to go to any of their
meetings but I don't imagine they even missed
me at the time. And while the arches and other
motion-picture scenery was being as completed
as they ever would be, so was my list. My
monument took up less space, but when you
gave it the once-over it seemed maybe a little
more rain-proof than the others. Apparently
all there was to it was slips of paper six by
eight with this printed on them. At the top
it says:</p>
<p class="center"><span class="smcap">"welcome home"<br />
"howdy boys, and our heartfelt thanks!<br />
do you need a job? here are three hundred<br />
and twenty and a victory note<br />
goes with every one!"</span></p>
<p>Then come the list. I will put down a part
of it so you can realize what a assortment of
things has to be done to keep the seive in civilization.</p>
<blockquote><p>4 handsome juveniles for motion-picture
work—stage experience unnecessary.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p>
<p>2 experienced camera men.</p>
<p>2 marcel-wavers.</p>
<p>6 chemists, Marie La Tour Complexion
Powder Co.</p>
<p>2 salesmen, Marie La Tour Turkish Cigarette
Co.</p>
<p>16 waiters, Palatial Hotel.</p>
<p>1 traveling man, Marie La Tour Silk
Underwear Co.</p>
<p>2 experienced lineotypers, Motion Picture
Gazette.</p>
<p>2 experienced pressmen, Motion Picture
Gazette.</p>
<p>1 publicity man, experienced, Motion Picture
Gazette.</p>
<p>3 fillum cutters.</p>
<p>1 stylish floorman. Must be handsome and
refined, not over 30. Apply Maison Rosabelle,
Hats and Gowns.</p>
<p>1 orchestra complete, with leader. Apply
"Chez La Tour" (my old joint of parlour-dancing
days).</p>
<p>30 chorus men.</p>
<p>2 sparring partners for Madame Griselda,
the famous lady-boxer.</p></blockquote>
<p>And etc, add affinities, as the Romans used
to say. And every one a real genuine job<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>
paying good money. And getting them nailed
was no cinch, believe you me, except, of course,
I being such a prominent person I didn't have
as much trouble as some would of. Especially
where a firm was using my name on something,
they could hardly refuse me. I seen everybody
personally myself, and only the bosses
and in the end nobody had turned me down
except the one from which I had bought my
new bear-cat roadster for Jim's welcome home
present and it was <i>some</i> roadster, being neatly
finished in pale lavender with yellow running-gear
and a narrow red trim and tapestry upholstery
on the seats which was so low and
easy you involuntarily started to pull up the
blankets after you got settled. You know, the
kind of a car you have to look up from to see
which way the cop is waving.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, you would of thought the
bird which had sold it to me for cash money,
him being the manager of the luxurious car-corrall
himself, would offer to take on some
of the boys. But no, he says there was too many
auto salesmen in the world already, and that
they had ought to be diverted into selling some
of the new temperance drinks where their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>
trained imagination would undoubtedly be of
great value.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, he was the only one turned
me down and I had the slips printed and
stored away in a couple of cretone hat-boxes
and commenced allotting the victory-note
pledges. And then I tripped over the fact that
I was a job short. There was the stuff all
printed, and a job too short and it the night
before the big parade! Well, I decided that
when the time come I would make the extra
job if I couldn't find it, and believe you me, I
was as wore out looking for them as a Ham
with his hair cut like a Greenwich village masterpiece.
Not that I ever saw one and I have
often wondered where the artists which drew
them that way, did.</p>
<p>But in the meantime I had got hold of the
Dahlia sisters, and Madame Broun and La
Estelle, and Queenie King and a lot of other
easy-lookers and had it all fixed for them to
be on hand below Fourteenth Street at ten
o'clock to give out the slips while the boys was
mobilizing or whatever they call it. And then
just as I was getting into the limousine with
Musette and the two cretone hat boxes full and
the two fool dogs and Ma, who would come up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>
to me but Ruby Roselle with a new spring set
of sables which it is remarkable how she does
it in burlesque, still far be it from me to say
a word about any person, having been in the
theatrical world too long not to realize that it
is seldom as red as it is painted and that the
coating of black is only on the outside.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, up she comes from her new
flat which is only two doors from mine and a
awful mean look in those green eyes of hers
under a sixty dollar hat that looked it, while
mine cost seventy-five and looked fifteen, which
is far more refined only Ruby would never believe
that: which is one main difference between
her and I. And she stopped me with
one of those deadly sweet womanly smiles and
says in a voice all milk and honey and barbed
wire, she says:</p>
<p>"How's this, dearie, about the Theatrical
Ladies Committee," she says. "I only just
heard of it from Dottie Dahlia," she says.
"What was it made you leave me off?"</p>
<p>Well, seeing that the armistice was not yet
broken I felt I might let her distribute a few
leaflets, although I had left her name off the
signatures at the bottom on account of her
never having proved she wasn't a alien enemy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>
to anything besides dramatic art, which hadn't
to be proved. So I handed her a string of
talk about this being a small affair and how
I had thought she would of been too busy to
do anything just now, which made her mad
because there is some talk on account of that
she wasn't working just then. But she took
a few leaflets and read the signature at the
bottom. "Theatrical Ladies' Welcome Committee"
and got real red in the face.</p>
<p>"Why, my friend Mr. Mulvaney spoke to
me about this!" she says. "I was to of been
treasurer, or something! Do you mean to say
you spent ten thousand dollars on <i>them!"</i> and
she pointed to the leaflets like a one-act small-time.</p>
<p>"Yep!" I says. "Take 'em home and try
'em on your piano!" I says. "But you will
have please to pardon me now. I got to beat
it!"</p>
<p>And with that I climbed in with the rest of
the family and we was rushed down town to
N. Y.'s Bohemian Quarter, where the 70th
Division was about to hang around waiting to
parade. Which it is certainly remarkable the
places the highly moral U. S. A. Government
picks out for her soldiers to wait about in say<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span>
from Paris to Washington Square, and I think
their wives and sweethearts have stood for a
good deal of this sort of thing, to say nothing
of wives and sisters being kept from going
abroad. I don't know have any homes been
broken up this way, but I will say that Marsailles
and Harlem would of listened better
to the patiently waiting homebodies.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, down we went to the amateur
white lights, and by the time we reached
Twenty-Third we begun to run into bunches
of the boys. Bands was playing and all, and—oh
my Gawd, what's the use trying to tell
about it? There was plenty to tell, but ain't
every one <i>seen</i> it? If not at N. Y. C., why in
some town which may be more jay but with
its heart in the right place, and the heart is
the thing which counted this time as per usual.
Believe you me, mine was in my throat and so
was everybody elses when they seen them lean
brown boys with their grown-up faces!</p>
<p>Well, we stopped down to Eleventh and
Sixth and got out and commenced walking
around handing out the leaflets, and at first
they weren't taking 'em very seriously, but
pretty soon they began to get on to who I was
and of course that caught them and a good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>
many tucked the slips inside their tin hats
and all of them pretty near had seen me in
"The Kaiser's Killing" and I got pretty near
as big a ovation as I had tried to offer them.
And as for the parade they was very good-natured,
but it seemed to me that as usual the
stay-at-homes in the grandstands was getting
the best of it and the boys doing all the work,
for parading, no more than a first-class dancing
act, ain't quite the pleasure to the ones that does
it, that it is to them that only stands and waits,
as the saying is.</p>
<h3> V</h3>
<p>The crowds on the Avenue was something
fierce, and the only ones which had the right
of way, outside of officers and cops, was the
motion-picture men. I seen Ted Bearson, my
own camera man from the Goldringer Studios,
and Rosco, my publicity man, and they was
talking together. I stepped back in among
the boys, because I wasn't looking for any personal
publicity myself on this particular day,
wishing to leave all that to the division and I
knew that if Ted was to see me he would shoot
me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p>
<p>But ain't it the truth that the modester a
public person like me is, the more attention
they attract? My sweet, quiet voice, silent
though snappy clothes, and retiring manner
have been in Sunday spreads and motion-picture
magazine articles practically all over the
world and America, and my refinement is my
best-known characteristic. Publicity is like
men. Leave 'em alone and they simply chase
you. Pretend you don't want them, and you
can't lose them. And the more reluctant I am
about being noticed, the wilder the papers get!
Only, of course, without a good publicity man
this wouldn't, perhaps, be a perfectly safe bet.</p>
<p>So this day, having got rid of all my leaflets,
I was slowly working my way toward the
Avenue, when publicity was thrust upon me.</p>
<p>You know this Bohemian part of New York
is made up of old houses which is so picturesque
through not having much plumbing and so
forth and heat being furnished principally by
the talk of the tenants on Bolshevism and etc.
These inconveniences makes a atmosphere of
freedom and all that and furnishes a district
where the shoe-clerk can go and be his true
self among the many wild, free spirits from
Chicago and all points west. Well, this neighborhood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>
could stand a lot of repairs, not alone
in the personal sense, but in a good many of
the buildings, but these are seldom made until
interfered with by the police or building departments.
And on the corner of the street
which I was now at there was a big old house
full of people who <i>did</i> something, I suppose,
and these were mostly bursting out through
the open windows or sitting on the little balconies
which looked like they couldn't hold a
flower pot and a pint of milk with any safety
much less a human. But there they was, sitting,
with all the indifference to fate, for which
they are so well known. I couldn't but notice
the risk they ran, but I should worry how many
radicals are killed, and so I paid but little
heed until I noticed that there was three little
kids—all ragged children of the dear proletariat—which
some of the Bohemians had
hauled up on a balcony which was too frail for
adults. The minute I see that balcony I was
scared to death, although the short-haired girl
and the long-haired man which was letting the
kids out on it was laughing and care-free as
you please. The kids got out all right, and then
something awful happened.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p>
<p>Right below was a open space at the head
of this particular column, where the officers and
color-bearers and etc was. Rosco and Ted
was getting a picture of them. But while I
generally watch a camera, this time I didn't
on account of watching the kids. And as I
looked that rotten old balcony broke and one
them, a little girl, fell through and hung there,
caught by her skirt, and it a ragged one at that.
Everybody screamed and yelled and sort of
drew back, which is the first way people act
at a horror before they begin to think. I
yelled myself, but I started toward her, because
the radicals couldn't reach her from
above and from below the ground was fully
twenty feet away and nothing but a fence with
spikes and a dummy window-ledge way to one
side. But I had a idea I might make it for
what with two generations on the center trapeze
and never a drop of liquor and not to mention
what I done in pictures, I think quicker
than some and act the same. But my new
skirt prevented, and ahead of me dashed a soldier.</p>
<p>In a minute he had scaled the wall and
worked his way along the spikes to that ledge,
and then while the crowd watched breathlessly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>
he had that kid under one arm and was back
on the wall again. He held her close, turned
around, crouched down and then jumped. And
as he jumped I screamed and run forward, for
Oh My Gawd, it was Jim!</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>I don't know how I got there, but when I
come to I and that scared kid was all mixed
up in his arms and the three of us crying to
beat the band which had struck up and the
crowd yelling like mad. And it was a peach
of a stunt, believe you me.</p>
<p>"Didn't you get my cable?" Jim says. And
I says no, and we clinched again. And then
we heard a funny, purring sound right behind
and broke loose and turned around and there
was that devil of a Ted taking a close-up!</p>
<p>"Hold it! Damn you, hold it another ten
feet!" yells Rosco, who was dancing around
like a regulation director, just back of Ted.
"Fine, Fine! Oh, boy, what a pair of smiles!
Say, folks, we shot the whole scene—<i>some</i>
News Weekly Feature. Oh say, can you see
me, Rosco, <i>the</i> publicity man!"</p>
<p>Honest to Gawd you would of thought he
had gone crazy! And that bone-headed crowd
couldn't make out was the whole thing staged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>
or real. Believe you me, I had to pinch myself
to know was it real or not, but thank Gawd
it was, it was! And after nearly two years!
Do you know how that feels? Give a guess!
And then, just as I thought now this cruel
war and everything is over, why that roughneck
of a officer give the order to fall in and
of course Jim had to and left me there with
that kid in my arms for Ted to make a couple
of stills for the papers.</p>
<p>Believe you me, I couldn't tell how many he
took, or when, because seeing Jim so sudden
and unexpected had pretty near killed me, and
I couldn't say anything much about the parade
either, because something kept me from seeing
it and I guess it was my own glad tears. Anyways,
I had three wet handkerchiefs in my bag
when I got home and one of them a perfect
stranger's.</p>
<p>Well, of course, I expected the parade would
break up when it struck Harlem and the boys
would hurry right home. And did they? They
<i>did</i> not! I hurried right home, all right, all
right, but not so Jim. And for a long while
I was sitting there in one of my trousseau
dresses and a fearful state of mind over what
had he done to get killed since I last seen him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>
But hours went by and still he didn't come.
And I didn't know his 'phone or where he was
or anything. The only clue I had that the
whole business was a fact and no dream was
the cable, which had come after he did, saying
he would be home as arranged after all.</p>
<p>Believe you me, I hope never to live through
another twenty-four hours like them that followed,
because I couldn't eat or sleep, not
knowing where he was.</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<p>Next morning I wouldn't even look at the
papers which was Sunday and full of our and
the division's pictures. And Monday was
worse, because even although Jim might be
alive none of the hospitals nor yet the morgue
had him, and so I commenced to think he had
gone back on me. A telegram come from the
coast saying "Great Sunday story bring Rosco
contract follows," but what did I care for that
stuff without Jim? Ma was very silent all this
time, and kept in her room a lot, with the door
shut. And then late Monday afternoon the
door-bell rung, and my heart leaped to my
feet like it had done at every tinkle for 48
hours, and I went myself, but it was only Ruby
Roselle and Mr. Mulvaney of the Welcome<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>
Home Committee with her! The men that
girl knows! Well, she sees them in another
light than I and it's a good thing all tastes
don't run the same. But this was such a surprise
I asked them in before I thought and
pretty near forgot my own troubles for a
minute.</p>
<p>Ruby cuddled down into her kolinsky wrap
and give me the fish-eye, as she addressed me
in her own sweet way as a woman to her best
enemy.</p>
<p>"Dearie," she says, tucking in a imaginary
curl. "Dear, Johnnie here was over to my
flat and we got speaking of you by accident,
and he's anxious to know where's the money
he gave you, and why no decorations as was
intended?"</p>
<p>"Yes, Miss La Tour," says the old bird,
which it was plain she had made a even more
perfect fool of him than he had been before.
"Yes, Miss La Tour, it's a serious thing," he
says. "I understand you didn't really call
even one meeting and as for decorations—!!
Well, what can you tell us?"</p>
<p>Well, I told him how I come to think of
what I thought of, and the jobs which I had
319 of and the notes and all, and while I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span>
talked I could see plain enough that I was
getting in worse every minute, because they
had come determined to find me guilty, and no
matter what I said, it would of listened queer
with them two pairs of glassy eyes on me.</p>
<p>"I had a hunch," I wound up, "that maybe
something a little substantial would be welcome,"
I says, "because after all a person
can't live on plaster arches and paper flowers,
and three hundred and nineteen jobs ought to
take care of a considerable percent of the ones
that need it," I says. "And so while your
arches are all right," I says, "you must admit
they are principally for show."</p>
<p>When I got through Mr. Mulvaney cleared
his throat and didn't seem to know just how
to go on; but Ruby give him an eye, and so
he cleared his throat again and changed back
to her side.</p>
<p>"This is all <i>most</i> irregular," he says very
dignified. "Most irregular. You will certainly
have to appear before the general committee
and give them an accounting. What
you have done amounts to a misuse of public-funds!"</p>
<p>My Gawd, I nearly fainted at that! But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>
before I could say a word a voice spoke up
from the doorway.</p>
<p>"Like hell it does!" says Jim, which that
dear kid had left himself in with his key and
listened to the whole business. "Like hell
it's a misuse!" he says, coming into the room
and putting his arm around me. "You just
let the public and the soldiers take their
choice! Give all the facts to all the newspapers
and we will furnish the photographs free! Go
to it! Get busy! And—get out!"</p>
<p>Well, they got, and what happened then I
will not go into because there are things even
a self-centered woman won't put on paper!
Poor Jim, and him back in camp to get deloused
and demobilized and his tooth-brush,
and a few parting words of appreciation and
etc, these past 48 hours which it seems is the
rule for all soldiers, and I suppose they did
need the rest after that parade before taking
up domestic life once more.</p>
<p>Well, anyways, that afternoon late, while
him and me was thoroughly enjoying our joint
contract and the Sunday spreads with our pictures
and all, in walks Ma with her hat and
dolman on and a suit-case in one hand, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>
'Frisco, the he-snake in his box, in the other
hand.</p>
<p>"For the love of Mike, Ma Gilligan, where
are you going to?" I says, looking at her idly.</p>
<p>"I'm leaving you forever!" says Ma, in a
deep voice.</p>
<p>"Leaving us? Whatter you mean, leaving
us?" I says, taking notice and my head off
Jim's shoulder.</p>
<p>"I'm going back to work," says Ma. "I'm
not going to be dependent on you no longer,"
she says, "nor a burden in my old age," she
says. "And now that you got Jim back I shall
only be in the way, so good-by, Gawd bless
you!"</p>
<p>"Why, Ma Gilligan!" I yells, jumping to
my feet. "How you talk! Besides what on
earth do you think you could do?"</p>
<p>"Oh, I got a job," she flashes, proudly. "I'm
going back to the circus!"</p>
<p>Believe you me, that pretty near had me
floored.</p>
<p>"The circus!" I says. "What nonsense!
Why a trapezer has to be half your age to say
nothing of weight!"</p>
<p>"I'm not going on no trapeze at my years!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>
says Ma. "I'm going back as Fat Lady. One
hundred a week and expenses!"</p>
<p>All of a sudden I realized the full meaning
of them doughnuts and cocoa and etc she had
eat these past months. She had been deliberately
training and as usual was successful. I
sprung to my feet and hung around Ma's neck
like a ten-year-old.</p>
<p>"Oh Ma!" I says. "Don't! Please don't go
back! Whatever would we do without you?"
I says. And Jim added his entreaties.</p>
<p>"Why, Ma Gilligan, what bally rot!" he
says, which it's quite noticeable the amount of
English he's picked up over there. "What
a silly ass you are, old dear!" he says. "Here
we are going to California and who would
cook for us if not you?" he says, "with the cook-question
like it is out there?"</p>
<p>Well, that weakened Ma considerable, for
cooking is her middle name. So she set down
the suit-case.</p>
<p>"Ma!" I begged her. "We <i>couldn't</i> have
too much of you, and you would never be in the
way or a burden no matter what the scales
say. For heaven's sake take off that hat, it's
too young for you, and burden us with the first
home cooking Jim has had in two years!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p>
<p>Well, she give in at that, and sat down the
snake and her dolman and pocket-book.</p>
<p>"Well, all right then!" she says. "I'll stay!"
Which is about all the emotion Ma ever shows.
"Whew, but it's hot in here!" she says and
turns to open the window and we left her do
it, because we seen she didn't want us to notice
her tears. And as she opened it she gives a
shriek and leans way over, grabbing at something.
And hardly had she yelled than from
below come a holler and a flow of language the
like of which I had never heard, no, not even
at the studio when something went wrong!
Then Ma commenced to laugh something
hysterical and pulled herself back in through
the window and leaned against the side of it,
hollering her head off.</p>
<p>"What is it?" I says.</p>
<p>"It's Maude!" gasps Ma. "She was shut
under the winder and when I opened it she fell
out and lit on Rudie's head which was sitting
right underneath."</p>
<p>Well, we could hardly hear her for the noise
in the kitchen. The dumb-waiter was buzzing
like all possessed. I and Jim rushed out and
there, lickety-split, come the dumb-waiter only
it was more inarticulate than dumb by then,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>
and on it the case of Old Home lacking only
three quarts.</p>
<p>"I find your whiskey, Miss La Tour!" says
Rudie's voice, very weak and shagy from below.
"I chust find him and send him right
away, quick!"</p>
<p>"Thanks old dear!" chortled Jim. "Come
up and have a drink on me!"</p>
<p>"No tanks!" yelled Rudie. "I'm leaving
this blace right now foreffer!"</p>
<p>Well, we should worry! I turned to Jim, a
big load off my mind.</p>
<p>"Jim," I says solemnly. "There is the three
hundred and twentieth job!"</p>
<p class="center"> THE END</p>
<hr style="width: 45%;" />
<div class="centerbox bbox">
<p class="center">Transcriber's note:</p>
<p>Varied spelling, hyphenation and dialect is as in the original.</p></div>
<pre>
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Believe You Me!, by Nina Wilcox Putnam
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BELIEVE YOU ME! ***
***** This file should be named 33728-h.htm or 33728-h.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
http://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/7/2/33728/
Produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at
http://www.fadedpage.net
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
http://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at http://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit http://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
http://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
</pre>
</body>
</html>
|
