II
When 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 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.
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 come to be invisible to me like a chewing-gum or a soap ad—do you get me?
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 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.
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 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.
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 elegant and slim, only with a little too much henna in her hair as usual.
"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.
"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!"
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.
"Dont you think maybe that's profiteering, Masie?" I ast.
Maison run a well manicured hand over her marcelle and smiled superior—she has always prided herself on being sort of high-brow and reads Sappy Stories regular.
"Why, dearie, how you talk!" she says. "Dont you know that a little gaiety keeps up the morale of the country?"
"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!"
"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!"
"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!"
"Well, Mary Gilligan, I guess you're going nutty!" says Masie, but she gives the order, and I choose one at $15—which could be dry-cleaned, and that was the nearest I could come to what I was after.
"You wont like it!" Masie warned me. "It's too cheap—better take a good silk!"
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?
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.
"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. Suppose we was to go on war-rations of our own free wills?"
"Well, we eat pretty plain and wholesome now!" says Ma. "Just like we always done!"
"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.
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 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.
"Are you going to call him or will I?" she wanted to know.
"About what?" I asked.
"Why about your committee-meeting to-morrow?" she says.
"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!"
"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!"