Part 11

"I am!" she says. "You told me to do something modern and I'm doing the very modernest thing there is!"

"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!"

"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?"

"I don't know yet beyond one thing," I says, "we are going to _get together_ and keep together!"

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 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.

III

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 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.

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.

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 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.

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 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."

"Yes, Miss Ruby Schwartz Roselle, there is," I said. "I will be obliged to have the floor a minute."

"You can have it for all of me, dearie," says Ruby, sweetly, as she recognized her enemy. "Miss Marie La Tour has the floor."

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.

"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 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."

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.

"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 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!"

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,

"And how does Miss La Tour suggest we commence?" she says.

"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 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!"

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.

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 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.

"Well, thank goodness, you decided to come home, Mary Gilligan!" she says. "Something awful has happened!"

"Not Jim?" I gasps, my heart nearly stopping, for he is always the first thing I think of.

"Jim, nothing!" says Ma. "It's poor Kiskoff!"

"Oh, him!" I says, relieved. "What of it?"

"They arrested him this morning!" says Ma, all broken up, the poor fish! "Arrested him just before the meeting!"

"Good!" I says. "I knew they would. The hound, he couldn't go around forever talking Bolshevism!"

"It wasn't for that," says Ma.

"Then for what?" I says, blankly.

"For back alimony!" says Ma, almost in tears. "It seems he married a girl out in Kansas 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."

"And I suppose you'll tell me next that he wasn't talking Bolshevism," says I.

"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!"

"Ma!" I demanded solemnly, a light coming over me. "Ma, have you honestly got any idea what this Bolshevism _is?_ Come on, own up!"

"Certainly!" she says. "It's something like Spiritualism or devil-worship, ain't it? A sort of fancy religion!"

"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!"

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.

"Well, daughter, why didn't you say so in the first place?" she says, just as if she'd caught _me_ 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.

"Be careful how you go near that kitchen!" she says warningly.

"For heaven's sakes, Ma!" I says. "What's wronger than usual out there?"

"I dunno, but I think something is!" she says. "I believe it's a bomb!"

"A bomb!" I says. "Whatter you mean?"

"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."

"Brought _what?"_ I says.

"The bomb, of course!" says Ma, impatient herself.

"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.

"Well, it looks just like the one in the picture where them three Germans blew theirselves up in the newspaper!" says she. "And it ticks."

"My Gawd!" I says. "Where is the thing?"

"On the kitchen-table," says Ma.

"Well," I says, bravely. "I think I aught to take a look at it anyways."

"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.

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.

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 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.

"Look out!" screams Ma. "What are you going to do?"

"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.

"No good!" I says, sadly. "We'll have to take severer measures!"

"Well, what'll they be?" says Ma.

"There's a plain-clothes cop outside looking for trouble," says I grimly, "and here is where I hand him a little," says I.

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 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.

"Bomb!" I says. "Hurry up!"

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 _expected_ a bomb to be here.

"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!"

IV

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 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.

"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.

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.

"Hello, Anna!" he says. "What you doing here?"

"Ay bane working!" says Anna. "How you bane, Mike?"

"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!"

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.

"That bane mine!" she says, making a grab for it. But Mike held her off.

"Yours, eh?" he says, severely. _"Yours!_ Well, we'll just have a look at it, my girl!"

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!

"Bane youst a present from may feller!" says Anna coyly.

Well, did we feel cheap? We did. And in addition to that Mike, the smart and brave young cop, was disappointed something terrible.

"Who is this Anna?" I asked him soon's I got my breath.

"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 _some_ cook! You're lucky to have her."

And just then this ex-pro-German Bolshevist cook we was so lucky to have starts to yell again!

"Frits! Oy! Frits!" she says. "He bane gone! Make un yoump back!"

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 sat, silent for once in his life and giving us the evil-eye.

"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!"

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.

"Yoump!" implored Anna, but he just climbed, instead.

"Here, wait, and I'll get him!" says Mike. "Glad to do it, Anna. I can step across easy enough!"

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 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.

"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!"

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!

And after they got through the phone rang and there was Goldringer's voice.

"The aeroplane has come, Miss La Tour," he says. "When will you be over?"

"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!

VI

THE GLAD HAND

I

I SEE 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 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 which has thrust riches and success upon theirselves.

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.

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 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 or a theatrical manager makes a noise like work to be done.