V. Katie Wins a Home

by Ring Lardner

　　OH YES, we been back here quite a wile. And we're liable to be here quite awile. This town's good enough for me and it suits the Mrs. too, though theydidn't neither one of us appreciate it till we'd give New York a try. If Iwas running the South Bend Boosters' club, I'd make everybody spend a yearon the Gay White Way. They'd be so tickled when they got to South Bend thatyou'd never hear them razz the old burg again. Just yesterday we had aletter from Katie, asking us would we come and pay her a visit. She's aregular New Yorker now. Well, I didn't have to put up no fight with my Mrs.Before I could open my pan she says, "I'll write and tell her we can'tcome; that you're looking for a job and don't want to go nowhere just now."Well, they's some truth in that. I don't want to go nowheres and I'll takea job if it's the right kind. We could get along on the interest fromElla's money, but I'm tired of laying round. I didn't do a tap of work allthe time I was east and I'm out of the habit, but the days certainly dodrag when a man ain't got nothing to do and if I can find something where Idon't have to travel, I'll try it out.But the Mrs. has still got most of what the old man left her and all andall, I'm glad we made the trip. I more than broke even by winning prettyclose to $10,000 on the ponies down there. And we got Katie off our hands,which was one of the objects of us going in the first place--that andbecause the two gals wanted to see Life. So I don't grudge the time wespent, and we had some funny experiences when you look back at them.Anybody does that goes on a tour like that with a cuckoo like Katie. Youhear a lot of songs and gags about mother-in-laws. But I could write a bookof them about sister-in-laws that's twenty years old and pretty and full ofpeace and good will towards Men.Well, after the blow-off with Daley, Long Island got too slow, besidescosting us more than we could afford. So the gals suggested moving back inTown, to a hotel called the Graham on Sixty-seventh Street that somebodyhad told them was reasonable.They called it a family hotel, but as far as I could see, Ella and I wasthe only ones there that had ever forced two dollars on the clergy. Outsideof the transients, they was two song writers and a couple of gals that hadtheir hair pruned and wrote for the papers, and the rest of the lodgers wasboys that had got penned into a sixteen-foot ring with Benny Leonard bymistake. They looked like they'd spent many an evening hanging onto theropes during the rush hour.When we'd staid there two days, Ella and Katie was ready to pack up again."This is just a joint," said Ella. "The gals may be all right, but they'renever in, only to sleep. And the men's impossible; a bunch of lowprize-fighters."I was for sticking, on account of the place being cheap, so I said:"Second prize ain't so low. And you're overlooking the two handsome tunethiefs. Besides, what's the difference who else lives here as long as therooms is clean and they got a good restaurant? What did our dude cellmatesout on Long Island get us? Just trouble!"But I'd of lose the argument as usual only for Kate oversleeping herself.It was our third morning at the Graham and her and Ella had it planned togo and look for a better place. But Katie didn't get up till pretty nearnoon and Ella went without her. So it broke so's Sis had just camedownstairs and turned in her key when the two bellhops reeled in the frontdoor bulging with baggage and escorting Mr. Jimmy Ralston. Yes, JimmyRalston the comedian. Or comic, as he calls it.Well, he ain't F. X. Bushman, as you know. But no one that seen him couldmake the mistake of thinking he wasn't somebody. And he looked good enoughto Kate so as she waited till the clerk had him fixed up, and then ast whohe was. The clerk told her and she told us when the Mrs. come back from herhunt. Ella begin to name a few joints where we might move, but it seemedlike Sis had changed her mind."Oh," she says, "let's stay here a wile longer, a week anyway.""What's came over you!" ast Ella. "You just said last night that you wasbored to death here.""Maybe we won't be so bored now," said Kate, smiling. "The Graham's lookingup. We're entertaining a celebrity--Jimmy Ralston of the Follies.Well, they hadn't none of us ever seen him on the stage, but of course we'dheard of him. He'd only just started with the Follies, but he'd made a namefor himself at the Winter Garden, where he broke in two or three years ago.And Kate said that a chorus gal she'd met--Jane Abbott--had told her aboutRalston and what a scream he was on a party."He's terribly funny when he gets just the right number of drinks," saysKate."Well, let's stay then," says Ella. "It'll be exciting to know a realactor.""I would like to know him," says Katie, "not just because he's on thestage, but I think it'd be fun to set and listen to him talk. He must saythe screamingest things! If we had him round we wouldn't have to play cardsor nothing for entertainment. Only they say it makes people fat to laugh.""If I was you, I'd want to get fat," I said. "Looking like an E stringhasn't started no landslide your way.""Is he attractive?" ast the Mrs."Well," said Kate, "he isn't handsome, but he's striking looking. Youwouldn't never think he was a comedian. But then, ain't it generally alwaystrue that the driest people have sad faces?""That's a joke!" I said. "Did you ever see Bryan when he didn't look likesomebody was tickling his feet?""We'll have to think up some scheme to get introduced to him," says Ella."It'll be tough," I says. "I don't suppose they's anybody in theworld harder to meet than a member of the Follies, unless it's an Elk in aPullman washroom.""But listen," says Kate: "We don't want to meet him till we've saw theshow. It'd be awfully embarrassing to have him ask us how we liked theFollies and we'd have to say we hadn't been to it.""Yes," said the Mrs., "but still if we tell him we haven't been to it, hemay give us free passes.""Easy!" I said. "And it'd take a big load off his mind. They say it worriesthe Follies people half sick wondering what to do with all their freepasses.""Suppose we go to-night!" says Kate. "We can drop in a hotel somewhere andget seats. The longer we don't go, the longer we won't meet him.""And the longer we don't meet him," I says, "the longer till he gives youthe air.""I'm not thinking of Mr. Ralston as a possible suitor," says Katie,swelling up. "But I do want to get acquainted with a man that don't bore aperson to death.""Well," I says, "if this baby's anything like the rest of your gentlemenfriends, he won't hardly be round long enough for that."I didn't make no kick about going to the show. We hadn't spent no moneysince we'd moved back to Town and I was as tired as the gals of setting upin the room, playing rummy. They said we'd have to dress, and I kicked justfrom habit, but I'd got past minding that end of it. They was one advantagein dolling up every time you went anywhere. It meant an hour when they wasno chance to do something even sillier.We couldn't stop to put on the nose bag at the Graham because the women wasscared we'd be too late to get tickets. Besides, when you're dressed fordinner, you at least want the waiter to be the same. So we took a taxi downto the Spencer, bought Follies seats in the ninth row, and went in to eat.It's been in all the papers that the price of food has came down, but thehotel man can't read. They fined us eleven smackers for a two-coursebanquet that if the Woman's Guild, here, would dast soak you four bits aplate for it, somebody'd write a nasty letter to the News-Times.We got in the theater a half hour before the show begin. I put in the timefinding out what the men will wear, and the gals looked up what scenesRalston'd be in. He was only on once in each act. They don't waste muchtime on a comedian in the Follies. It don't take long to spring the twogags they can think up for him in a year, and besides, he just interfereswith the big gal numbers, where Bunny Granville or somebody dreams of thedifferent flappers he danced with at the prom, and the souvenirs they givehim; and one by one the different gals writhes in, dressed like the stagedirector thinks they dress at the female colleges--a Wesley gal in pinktights, a Vassar dame in hula-hula, and a Smith gal with a sombrero and asailor suit. He does a couple of steps with them and they each hand him aflower or a vegetable to remember them by. The song winds up:But my most exclusive tokenIs a little hangnail brokenOff the gal from Gussie's School for Manicures.And his real sweet patootie comes on made up as a scissors.You've saw Ralston? He's a good comedian; no getting away from that. Theway he fixes up his face, you laugh just to look at him. I yelled when Ifirst seen him. He was supposed to be an office boy and he got back latefrom lunch and the boss ast him what made him late and he said he stoppedto buy the extra. So the boss ast him what extra and he says the extraabout the New York society couple getting married. So the boss said, "Why,they wouldn't print an extra about that. They's a New York society couplemarried most every day." So Ralston said, "Yes, but this couple is bothdoing it for the first time."I don't remember what other gags he had, and they're old anyway by now. Buthe was a hit, especially with Ella and Kate. They screamed so loud Ithought we'd get the air. If he didn't say a word, he'd be funny with thatfool make-up and that voice.I guess if it wasn't for me the gals would of insisted on going back to thestage door after the show and waiting for him to come out. I've saw Katiebad a lot of times, but never as cuckoo as this. It wasn't no case of loveat first or second sight. You couldn't be stuck on this guy from seeinghim. But she'd always been kind of stage-struck and was crazy over theidear of getting acquainted with a celebrity, maybe going round to placeswith him, and having people see her with Jimmy Ralston, the comedian. Andthen, of course, most anybody wants to meet a person that can make youlaugh.I managed to persuade them that the best dope would be to go back to theGraham and wait for him to come home; maybe we could fix it up with thenight clerk to introduce us. I told them that irregardless of what you readin books, they's some members of the theatrical profession thatoccasionally visits the place where they sleep. So we went to the hotel andset in the lobby for an hour and a half, me trying to keep awake wile thegals played Ralston's part of the show over again a couple thousand times.They's nothing goes so big with me as listening to people repeat gags outof a show that I just seen.The clerk had been tipped off and when Ralston finally come in and went toget his key, I strolled up to the desk like I was after mine. The clerkintroduced us."I want you to meet my wife and sister-in-law," I said."Some other time," says Ralston. "They's a matinee to-morrow and I got torun off to bed."So off he went and I got bawled out for Ziegfeld having matinees. But Isquared myself two days afterwards when we went in the restaurant forlunch. He was just having breakfast and the three of us stopped by histable. I don't think he remembered ever seeing me before, but anyway he gotup and shook hands with the women. Well, you couldn't never accuse Ella ofhaving a faint heart, and she says:"Can't we set down with you, Mr. Ralston? We want to tell you how much weenjoyed the Follies."So he says, sure, set down, but I guess we would of anyway."We thought it was a dandy show," says Katie."It ain't a bad troupe," says Ralston."If you'll pardon me getting personal," said Ella, "we thought you was thebest thing in it."He looked like he'd strain a point and forgive her."We all just yelled!" says Katie. "I was afraid they'd put us out, you madeus laugh so hard.""Well," says Ralston, "I guess if they begin putting people out for that,I'd have to leave the troupe.""It wouldn't be much of a show without you," says Ella."Well, all that keeps me in it is friendship for Ziggy," says Ralston. "Isaid to him last night, I says, 'Ziggy, I'm going to quit the troupe. I'mtired and I want to rest a wile.' So he says, 'Jim, don't quit or I'll haveto close the troupe. I'll give you fifteen hundred a week to stay.' I'mgetting a thousand now. But I says to him, I said, 'Ziggy, it ain't aquestion of money. What I want is a troupe of my own, where I get a chanceto do serious work. I'm sick of making a monkey of myself in front of abunch of saps from Nyack that don't appreciate no art but what's wrapped upin a stocking.' So he's promised that if I'll stick it out this year, he'llstar me next season in a serious piece.""Is he giving you the five hundred raise?" I ast him."I wouldn't take it," said Ralston. "I don't need money.""At that, a person can live pretty cheap at this hotel," I says."I didn't move here because it was cheap," he said. "I moved here to getaway from the pests--women that wants my autograph or my picture. And allthey could say was how much they enjoyed my work and how did I think up allthem gags, and so forth. No real artist likes to talk about himself,especially to people that don't understand. So that's the reason why I leftthe Ritz, so's I'd be left alone, not to save money. And I don't save nomoney, neither. I've got the best suite in the house--bedroom, bath, andstudy.""What do you study?" ast Kate."The parts I want to play," he says; "Hamlet and Macbeth and Richard.""But you're a comedian," says Kate."It's just a stepping stone," said Ralston.He'd finished his breakfast and got up."I must go to my study and work," he says. "We'll meet again.""Yes, indeed," says Ella. "Do you always come right back here nights afterthe show?""When I can get away from the pests," he says."Well," says Ella, "suppose you come up to our rooms to-night and we'llhave a bite to eat. And I think the husband can give you a little liquidrefreshments if you ever indulge.""Very little," he says. "What is your room number?"So the Mrs. told him and he said he'd see us after the show that night, andwalked out."Well," said Ella, "how do you like him?""I think he's wonderful!" says Katie. "I didn't have no idear he was sodeep, wanting to play Hamlet.""Pretty near all comedians has got that bug," I says."Maybe he's different when you know him better," said Ella."I don't want him to be different," says Kate."But he was so serious," said the Mrs. "He didn't say nothing funny.""Sure he did," I says. "Didn't he say artists hate to talk aboutthemselfs?"Pretty soon the waiter come in with our lunch. He ast us if the othergentleman was coming back."No," said Ella. "He's through.""He forgot his check," says the dish smasher."Oh, never mind!" says Ella. "We'll take care of that.""Well," I says, "I guess the bird was telling the truth when he said hedidn't need no money."I and the gals spent the evening at a picture show and stopped at adelicatessen on the way home to stock up for the banquet. I had a quart anda pint of yearling rye, and a couple of bottles of McAllister that they'dfined me fifteen smackers apiece for and I wanted to save them, so I toldKate that I hoped her friend would get comical enough on the rye."He said he drunk very little," she reminded me."Remember, don't make him talk about himself," said the Mrs. "What we wantis to have him feel at home, like he was with old friends, and then maybehe'll warm up. I hope we don't wake the whole hotel, laughing."Well, Ralston showed up about midnight. He'd remembered his date andapologized for not getting there before."I like to walk home from the theater," he says. "I get some of my funniestidears wile I walk."I come to the conclusion later that he spent practically his whole liferiding.Ella's and my room wasn't no gymnasium for size and after the third drink,Ralston tried to get to the dresser to look at himself in the glass, andknocked a $30 vase for a corpse. This didn't go very big with the Mrs., butshe forced a smile and would of accepted his apology if he'd made any. Allhe done was mumble something about cramped quarters. They was even morecramped when we set the table for the big feed, and it was my tough luck tohave our guest park himself in the chair nearest the clothes closet, wheremy two bottles of Scotch had been put to bed. The fourth snifter finishedthe pint of rye and I said I'd get the other quart, but before I could stopher, Ella says:"Let Mr. Ralston get it. It's right there by him."So the next thing you know, James has found the good stuff and he comes outwith both bottles of it."McAllister!" he says. "That's my favorite. If I'd knew you had that, Iwouldn't of drank up all your rye.""You haven't drank it all up," I says. "They's another bottle of it inthere.""It can stay there as long as we got this," he says, and helped himself tothe corkscrew.Well, amongst the knickknacks the gals had picked up at the delicatessenwas a roast chicken and a bottle of olives, and at the time I thoughtRalston was swallowing bones, stones, and all. It wasn't till the next daythat we found all these keepsakes on the floor, along with a couple dozenassorted cigarette butts.Katie's chorus gal friend had told her how funny the guy was when he'd hadjust the right number of shots, but I'd counted eight and begin to getdiscouraged before he started talking."My mother could certainly cook a chicken," he says."Is your mother living?" Kate ast him."No," he says. "She was killed in a railroad wreck. I'll never forget whenI had to go and identify her. You wouldn't believe a person could get thatmangled! No," he says, "my family's all gone. I never seen my father. Hewas in the pesthouse with smallpox when I was born and he died there. Andmy only sister died of jaundice. I can still--"But Kate was scared we'd wake up the hotel, laughing, so she says: "Do youever give imitations?""You mustn't make Mr. Ralston talk about himself," says Ella."Imitations of who?" said Ralston."Oh, other actors," said Katie."No," he says. "I leave it to the other actors to give imitations of me.""I never seen none of them do it," says Kate."They all do it, but they don't advertise it," he says. "Every comic in NewYork is using my stuff.""Oh!" said Ella. "You mean they steal your idears.""Can't you go after them for it?" ast Katie."You could charge them with petit larceny," I said."I wouldn't be mean," said Ralston. "But they ain't a comic on the stageto-day that I didn't give him every laugh he's got.""You ain't only been on the stage three or four years," I says. "How didHitchcock and Ed Wynn and them fellas get by before they seen you?""They wasn't getting by," he says. "I'm the baby that put them on theirfeet. Take Hitchy. Hitchy come to me last spring and says, 'Jim, I've ranout of stuff. Have you got any notions I could use?' So I says, 'Hitchy,you're welcome to anything I got.' So I give him a couple of idears andthey're the only laughs in his troupe. And you take Wynn. He opened up witha troupe that looked like a flop and one day I seen him on Broadway,wearing a long pan, and I says, 'What's the matter, Eddie?' And hebrightened up and says, 'Hello, there, Jim! You're just the boy I want tosee.' So I says, 'Well, Eddie, I'm only too glad to do anything I can.' Sohe says, 'I got a flop on my hands unlest I can get a couple of idears, andyou're the baby that can give them to me.' So I said, 'All right, Eddie,'And I give him a couple of notions to work on and they made his show. Andlook at Stone! And Errol! And Jolson and Tinney! Every one of them come tome at one time another, hollering for help. 'Jim, give me a couple ofnotions!' 'Jim, give me a couple of gags!' And not a one of them went awayempty-handed.""Did they pay you?" ast Ella.Ralston smiled."I wouldn't take no actor's money," he says. "They're all brothers to me.They can have anything I got, and I can have anything they got, only theyhaven't got nothing."Well, I can't tell you all he said, as I was asleep part of the time. But Ido remember that he was the one that had give Bert Williams the notion ofplaying coon parts, and learnt Sarah Bernhardt to talk French.Along about four o'clock, whey they was less than a pint left in the secondMcAllister bottle, he defied all the theater managers in New York."I ain't going to monkey with them much longer!" he says. "I'll letyou folks in on something that'll cause a sensation on Broadway. I'm goingto quit the Follies!"We was all speechless."That's the big secret!" he says. "I'm coming out as a star under my ownmanagement and in a troupe wrote and produced by myself!""When?" ast Kate."Just as soon as I decide who I'm going to let in as part owner," saidRalston. "I've worked for other guys long enough! Why should I be satisfiedwith $800 a week when Ziegfeld's getting rich off me!""When did he cut you $200?" I says. "You was getting $1,000 last time Iseen you."He didn't pay no attention."And why should I let some manager produce my play," he says, "and pay memaybe $1,200 a week when I ought to be making six or seven thousand!""Are you working on your play now?" Kate ast him."It's done," he says. "I'm just trying to make up my mind who's the rightparty to let in on it. Whoever it is, I'll make him rich.""I've got some money to invest," says Katie. "Suppose you tell us about theplay.""I'll give you the notion, if you'll keep it to yourself," says Ralston."It's a serious play with a novelty idear that'll be a sensation. Suppose Igo down to my suite and get the script and read it to you.""Oh, if you would!" says Kate."It'll knock you dead!" he says.And just the thought of it was fatal to the author. He got up from hischair, done a nose dive acrost the table and laid there with his head inthe chili sauce.I called up the clerk and had him send up the night bellhop with ourguest's key. I and the boy acted as pall bearers and got him to his"suite," where we performed the last sad rites. Before I come away Inoticed that the "suite" was a ringer for Ella's and mine--a dinky littleroom with a bath. The "study" was prettily furnished with coat hangers.When I got back to my room Katie'd ducked and the Mrs. was asleep, so Ididn't get a chance to talk to them till we was in the restaurant at noon.Then I ast Kate if she'd figured out just what number drink it was that hadstarted him being comical."Now listen," she says: "I don't think that Abbott girl ever met him in herlife. Anyway, she had him all wrong. We expected he'd do stunts, like shesaid, but he ain't that kind that shows off or acts smart. He's too much ofa man for that. He's a bigger man than I thought.""I and the bellhop remarked that same thing," I says."And you needn't make fun of him for getting faint," says Katie. "I calledhim up a wile ago to find out how he was and he apologized and said theymust of been something in that second bottle of Scotch."So I says:"You tell him they was, but they ain't."Well, it couldn't of been the Scotch or no other brew that ruined me. Or ifit was, it worked mighty slow. I didn't even look at a drink for three daysafter the party in our room. But the third day I felt rotten, and thatnight I come down with a fever. Ella got scared and called a doctor and hesaid it was flu, and if I didn't watch my step it'd be something worse. Headvised taking me to a hospital and I didn't have pep enough to say no.So they took me and I was pretty sick for a couple of weeks--too sick forthe Mrs. to give me the news. And it's a wonder I didn't have a relapsewhen she finally did."You'll probably yelp when you hear this," she says. "I ain't crazy aboutit myself, but it didn't do me no good to argue at first and it's too latefor argument now. Well, to begin with, Sis is in love with Ralston.""What of it!" I said. "She's going through the city directory and she'sjust got to the R's.""No, it's the real thing this time," said the Mrs. "Wait till you hear therest of it. She's going on the stage!""I've got nothing against that," I says. "She's pretty enough to get by inthe Follies chorus, and if she can earn money that way, I'm for it.""She ain't going into no chorus," said Ella. "Ralston's quit the Folliesand she's going in his show.""The one he wrote?" I ast."Yes," said the Mrs."And who's going to put it on?" I ast her."That's it," she says. "They're going to put it on themself, Ralston andSis. With Sis's money. She sold her bonds, fifty thousand dollars' worth.""But listen," I says. "Fifty thousand dollars! What's the name of the play,Ringling Circus?""It won't cost all that," said Ella. "They figure it'll take less than tenthousand to get started. But she insisted on having the whole thing in achecking account, where she can get at it. If the show's a big success inNew York they're going to have a company in Chicago and another on theroad. And Ralston says her half of the profits in New York ought to runround $5,000 a week. But anyway, she's sure of $200 a week salary foracting in it.""Where did she get the idear she can act?" I says."She's always had it," said the Mrs., "and I think she made him promise toput her in the show before she agreed to back it. Though she says it's awonderful investment! She won't be the leading woman, of course. But they'sonly two woman's parts and she's got one of them.""Well," I said, "if she's going to play a sap and just acts normal, she'llbe a sensation.""I don't know what she'll be," says Ella. "All I know is that she's madover Ralston and believes everything he says. And even if you hadn't ofbeen sick we couldn't of stopped her."So I ast what the play was like, but Ella couldn't tell me.Ralston had read it out loud to she and Kate, but she couldn't judge fromjust hearing it that way. But Kate was tickled to death with it. And they'dalready been rehearsing a week, but Sis hadn't let Ella see the rehearsals.She said it made her nervous."Ralston thinks the main trouble will be finding a theater," said the Mrs."He says they's a shortage of them and the men that owns them won't want tolet him have one on account of jealousy.""Has the Follies flopped?" I ast her."No," she says. "but they've left town.""They always do, this time of year," I said."That's what I thought," says the Mrs., "but Ralston says they'd intendedto stay here all the year round, but when the news come out that he'd left,they didn't dast. He's certainly got faith in himself. He must have, togive up a $600 a week salary. That's what he says he was really getting.""You say Katie's in love," I says. "How about him?""I don't know and she don't know," says Ella. "He calls her dearie andeverything and holds her hands, but when they're alone together, he won'ttalk nothing but business. Still, as I say, he calls her dearie.""Actors calls every gal that," I says. "It's because they can't remembernames."Well, to make a short story out of it, they had another couple weeks'rehearsals that we wasn't allowed to see, and they finally got atheater--the Olney. They had to guarantee a $10,000 business to get it.They didn't go to Atlantic City or nowheres for a tryout. They opened cold.And Ralston didn't tell nobody what kind of a show it was.Of course he done what they generally always do on a first night. He sentout free passes to everybody that's got a dress suit, and they's enough ofthem in New York to pretty near fill up a theater. These invited guests issupposed to be for the performance wile it's going on. After it's through,they can go out and ride it all over the island.Well, the rules wasn't exactly lived up to at "Bridget Sees a Ghost." Onaccount of Ralston writing the play and starring in it, the gang thought itwould be comical and they come prepared to laugh. It was comical all right,and they laughed. They didn't only laugh; they yelled. But they yelled inthe wrong place.The programme said it was "a Daring Drama in Three Acts." The three actswas what made it daring. It took nerve to even have one. In the firstplace, this was two years after the armistice and the play was about thewar, and I don't know which the public was most interested in by thistime--the war or Judge Parker.Act 1 was in July, 1917. Ralston played the part of Francis Shaw, a captainin the American army. He's been married a year, and when the curtain goesup, his wife's in their New York home, waiting for him to come in from campon his weekly leave. She sets reading the war news in the evening paper,and she reads it out loud, like people always do when they're alone,waiting for somebody. Pretty soon in comes Bridget, the Irish maid--our owndear Katie. And I wished you could of heard her brogue. And seen hergestures. What she reminded me most like was a gal in a home talentminstrels giving an imitation of Lew Fields playing the part of the blocksystem on the New York Central. Her first line was, "Ain't der Captain homeyed?" But I won't try and give you her dialect."No," says Mrs. Shaw. "He's late." So Katie says better late than never,and the wife says, yes, but she's got a feeling that some day it'll benever; something tells her that if he ever goes to France, he won't comeback. So Bridget says, "You been reading the war news again and it alwaysmakes you sad." "I hate wars!" says Mrs. Shaw, and that line got one of thebiggest laughs.After this they was a couple of minutes when neither of them could think ofnothing to add, and then the phone rung and Bridget answered it. It wasCapt. Shaw, saying he'd be there pretty soon; so Bridget goes right back tothe kitchen to finish getting dinner, but she ain't no sooner than left thestage when Capt. Shaw struts in. He must of called up from the public boothon his front porch.The audience had a tough time recognizing him without his comic make-up,but when they did they give him a good hand. Mrs. Shaw got up to greet him,but he brushed by her and come down to the footlights to bow. Then heturned and went back to his Mrs., saying "Maizie!" like this was the lastplace he expected to run acrost her. They kissed and then he ast her "Whereis Bobbie, our dear little one?"--for fear she wouldn't know whose littleone he meant. So she rung the bell and back come Bridget, and he says"Well, Bridget!" and Bridget says, "Well, it's the master!" This line wasanother riot. "Bring the little one, Bridget," says Mrs. Shaw, and theaudience hollered again.Wile Bridget was after the little one, the Captain celebrated the reunionby walking round the room, looking at the pictures. Bridget brings the babyin and the Captain uncovers its face and says, "Well, Bobbie!" Then heturns to his wife and says. "Let's see, Maizie. How old is he?" "Twoweeks," says Maizie. "Two weeks!" says Captain Shaw, surprised. "Well," hesays. "I hope by the time he's old enough to fight for the Stars andStripes, they won't be no such a thing as war." So Mrs. Shaw says, "And Ihope his father won't be called on to make the supreme sacrifice for himand we others that must stay home and wait. I sometimes think that inwartime, it's the women and children that suffers most. Take him back tohis cozy cradle, Bridget. We mothers must be careful of our littleones. Who knows when the kiddies will be our only comfort!" So Bridget beatit out with the little one and I bet he hated to leave all the gaiety."Well," says Shaw to his wife, "and what's the little woman been doing?""Just reading," she says, "reading the news of this horrible war. I don'tnever pick up the paper but what I think that some day I'll see your nameamongst the dead.""Well," says the Captain bravely, "they's no danger wile I stay on U. S.soil. But only for you and the little one, I would welcome the call to goOver There and take my place in the battle line. The call will come soon, Ibelieve, for they say France needs men." This rumor pretty near caused ariot in the audience and Ralston turned and give us all a dirty look.Then Bridget come in again and said dinner was ready, and Shaw says, "It'llseem funny to set down wile I eat." Which was the first time I ever knewthat army captains took their meals off the mantelpiece.Wile the Shaws was out eating, their maid stayed in the living room, whereshe'd be out of their way. It seems that Ralston had wrote a swell speechfor her to make in this spot, about what a tough thing war is, to comealong and separate a happy young couple like the Shaws that hadn't onlybeen married a year. But the speech started "This is terrible!" and whenBridget got that much of it out, some egg in the gallery hollered "You saida mouthful, kid!" and stopped the show.The house finally quieted down, but Katie was dumb for the first time inher life. She couldn't say the line that was the cue for the phone to ring,and she had to go over and answer a silent call. It was for the Captain,and him and his wife both come back on the stage."Maizie," he says, after he'd hung up, "it's came! That was my general! Wesail for France in half an hour!""O husband!" says Maizie. "This is the end!""Nonsense!" says Shaw with a brave smile. "This war means death for only asmall per cent of our men.""And almost no captains," yells the guy in the gallery.Shaw gets ready to go, but she tells him to wait till she puts onher wraps; she'll go down to the dock and see him off."No, darling," he says. "Our orders is secret. I can't give you the name ofour ship or where we're sailing from."So he goes and she flops on the couch w'ining because he wouldn't tell herwhether his ship left from Times Square or Grand Central.They rung the curtain down here to make you think six days has passed. Whenit goes up again, Maizie's setting on the couch, holding the little one.Pretty soon Bridget comes in with the evening paper."They's a big headline, mum," she says. "A troopship has been torpedoed."Well, when she handed her the paper, I could see the big headline. It said,"Phillies Hit Grimes Hard." But Maizie may of had a bet on Brooklyn.Anyway, she begin trembling and finally fell over stiff. So Bridget pickedup the paper and read it out loud:"Amongst the men lost was Capt. F. Shaw of New York."Down went the curtain again and the first act was over, and some jokesmithin the audience yelled "Author! Author!""He's sunk!" said the egg in the gallery.Well, Maizie was the only one in the whole theater that thought Shaw wasdead. The rest of us just wished it. Still you couldn't blame her much forgetting a wrong idear, as it was Nov. 11, 1918--over a year later--when thesecond act begins, and she hadn't heard from him in all that time. Itwasn't never brought out why. Maybe he'd forgot her name or maybe it wasBurleson's fault, like everything else.The scene was the same old living room and Maizie was setting on the sameold couch, but she was all dressed up like Elsie Ferguson. It comes outthat she's expecting a gentleman friend, a Mr. Thornton, to dinner. Sheasks Bridget if she thinks it would be wrong of her to accept the guy thenext time he proposed. He's ast her every evening for the last six monthsand she can't stall him much longer. So Bridget says it's all right if sheloves him, but Maizie don't know if she loves him or not, but he looks somuch like her late relic that she can't hardly tell the difference andbesides, she has got to either marry or go to work, or her and thelittle one will starve. They's a knock at the door and Thornton comes in.Him and the absent Captain looks as much alike as two brothers, yours andmine. Bridget ducks and Thornton proposes. Maizie says, "Before I answer, Imust tell you a secret. Captain Shaw didn't leave me all alone. I have alittle one, a boy." "Oh, I love kiddies," says Thornton. "Can I see him?"So she says it's seven o'clock and the little one's supposed to of been putto bed, but she has Bridget go get him.The little one's entrance was the sensation of this act. In act 1 he wasjust three or four towels, but now Bridget can't even carry him acrost thestage, and when she put him on his feet, he comes up pretty near to hershoulder. And when Thorton ast him would he like to have a new papa, hesays, "Yes, because my other papa's never coming back."Well, they say a woman can't keep a secret, but if Thornton had been nosinground for six months and didn't know till now that they was a spanker likeBobbie in the family circle, I wouldn't hardly call Maizie the town gossip.After the baby'd went back to read himself to sleep and Mrs. Shaw hadyessed her new admirer, Bridget dashed in yelling that the armistice wassigned and held up the evening paper for Maizie and Thornton to see. Thegreat news was announced in code. It said: "Phillies Hit Grimes Hard." Andit seemed kind of silly to not come right out and say "Armistice Signed!"Because as I recall, even we saps out here in South Bend had knew it sincethree o'clock that morning.The last act was in the same place, on Christmas Eve, 1918.Maizie and her second husband had just finished doing up presents for thelittle one. We couldn't see the presents, but I suppose they was giving hima cocktail shaker and a shaving set. Though when he come on the stage youcould see he hadn't aged much since Act 2. He hadn't even begin to getbald.Thornton and the Mrs. went off somewheres and left the kid alone, but allof a sudden the front door opened and in come old Cap Shaw, on crutches. Heseen the kid and called to him. "Who are you?" says the little one. "I'mSanta Claus," says the Cap, "and I've broughten you a papa for Christmas.""I don't want no papa," says Bobbie. "I've just got a new one." ThenBridget popped in and seen "the master" and hollered, "A ghost!" So he gother calmed down and she tells him what's came off. "It was in the paperthat Capt. F. Shaw of New York was lost," she says. "It must of beenanother Capt. F. Shaw!" he says."It's an odd name," hollered the guy in the gallery.The Captain thinks it all over and decides it's his move. He makes Bridgetpromise to never tell that she seen him and he says good-by to she and thekid and goes out into the night.Maizie comes in, saying she heard a noise and what was it? Was somebodyhere? "Just the boy with the evening paper," says Bridget. And the cat'sgot Bobbie's tongue. And Maizie don't even ask for the paper. She probablyfigured to herself it was the old story; that Grimes was still getting hisbumps.Well, I wished you could of read what the papers wrote up about the show.One of them said that Bridget seen a ghost at the Olney theater last nightand if anybody else wanted to see it, they better go quick because itwouldn't be walking after this week. Not even on crutches. The mildestthing they said about Ralston was that he was even funnier than when he wasin the Follies and tried to be. And they said the part of Bridget wasplayed by a young actress that they hoped would make a name for herself,because Ralston had probably called her all he could think of.We waited at the stage door that night and when Kate come out, she wascrying. Ralston had canned her from the show."That's nothing to cry about," I says. "You're lucky! It's just like as ifa conductor had put you off a train a couple of minutes before a bigsmash-up."The programme had been to all go somewheres for supper and celebrate theplay's success. But all Katie wanted now was to get in a taxi and go homeand hide.On the way, I ast her how much she was in so far."Just ten thousand," she says."Ten thousand!" I said. "Why, they was only one piece of scenery and thatlooked like they'd bought it secondhand from the choir boys' minstrels.They couldn't of spent one thousand, let alone ten.""We had to pay the theater a week's rent in advance," she says. "And Jimmygive five thousand to a man for the idear.""The idear for what?" I ast."The idear for the play," she said."That stops me!" I says. "This baby furnishes idears for all the goodactors in the world, but when he wants one for himself, he goes out andpays $5,000 for it. And if he got a bargain, you're Mrs. Fiske.""Who sold him the idear?" ast Ella."He wouldn't tell me," says Kate."Ponzi," I said.Ralston called Kate up the next noon and made a date with her at thetheater. He said that he was sorry he'd been rough. Before she went I asther to give me a check for the forty thousand she had left so's I could buyback some of her bonds."I haven't got only $25,000," she says. "I advanced Jimmy fifteen thousandfor his own account, so's he wouldn't have to bother me every time they wasbills to meet."So I said: "Listen: I'll go see him with you and if he don't come cleanwith that money, I'll knock him deader'n his play.""Thank you!" she says. "I'll tend to my own affairs alone."She come back late in the afternoon, all smiles."Everything's all right," she said. "I give him his choice of letting me bein the play or giving me my money.""And which did he choose?" I ast her."Neither one," she says. "We're going to get married.""Bridget" went into the ashcan Saturday night and the wedding come offMonday. Monday night they left for Boston, where the Follies was playing.Kate told us they'd took Ralston back at the same salary he was gettingbefore."How much is that?" I ast her."Four hundred a week," she says.Well, two or three days after they'd left, I got up my nerve and says tothe Mrs.:"Do you remember what we moved to the Big Town for? We done it to see Lifeand get Katie a husband. Well, we got her a kind of a husband and I'll tellthe world we seen Life. How about moseying back to South Bend?""But we haven't no home there now.""Nor we ain't had none since we left there," I says. "I'm going down andsee what's the first day we can get a couple of lowers.""Get uppers if it's quicker," says the Mrs.So here we are, really enjoying ourselfs for the first time in pretty neartwo years. And Katie's in New York, enjoying herself, too, I suppose. Sheought to be, married to a comedian. It must be such fun to just set andlisten to him talk.