"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!"
III
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, 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.
"The cook is leaving!" she says. "On account of the new rations."
"That's no loss!" I says gaily, because as a general thing Ma is only too glad when this happens.
"I ain't so sure!" says Ma. "I'm not as young as I was, and I cant do all the cooking!"
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 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!
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 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.