Believe You Me!

by W. W. Jacobs

  V

  NOW IS THE TIME

  I

  BELIEVE you me, the world to-day is just about as settled as a greenpassenger on a trip to Bermuda. There is that same awful feeling of notknowing is something going to happen or not--do you get me? You do! Andit can't help but strike even a mere womanly woman and lady like I, thatunless the captain and officers keep a firm hand on the crew until weget a little ballast in the hold, we are likely to get in Dutch. Notmeaning the Germans necessarily, but the Russians, or something just asbad. And perhaps it may seem strange for me to know about themnautchical terms, but anybody which has once been to Bermuda learns whatballast is on account of their not having hardly any on them boatsbecause of the water not being deep enough, and believe you me, nothingI had to do in the fillum we made after what was left of us arrivedthere, and it was some fillum at that--$1000. for bathing costumes aloneand me as "The Sea King's Conquest" in silver scales, although hardlyknowing how to swim--was a patch on the treatment which that unballastedboat handed me on the trip down.

  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 andmoving-pictures will be the last thing the common people will giveup;--even with this security and the handsomest furniture anyinstallment house could provide, and every other equipment which isnecessary to one so prominent in my line as myself, still even in thescarcity of the home, as the poet says, I am conscious that the worldis, or could quite easily be, on the blink.

  And ain't it the truth? Even the simplest soul, buried in the wilds ofBroadway and wholly absorbed in their own small life must feel theunrest. No use kidding ourselves about it. It's time for all goodAmericans to quit fighting among theirselves and come to the aid of thecountry. Regardless of race, creed or color, as the free hospital says,and 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 talkingand _did_ something. What? I dunno, quite, but it was this general lineof thought, which come to me while listening to the director give me myinstructions for the ball-room scene in "The Dove of Peace," where Icatch the Russian Ambassador giving the nitro-glycerine or some otherpatent face-cleanser to the fake Senator, caused me to reform the WhiteKittens. That and Ma's peculiar behavior, plus the new cook.

  You see it come over me all of a sudden that we ladies have now a voteand so forth, which unquestionably makes us more or less citizens thesame as the men, and if the country went bluey, why wouldn't it be ourfault as well? And I come to this partially through the sense of unrestand having eat something that didn't settle good and Ma's behavior. Allcoming at once they kind of got together and exploded into my idea.

  Well anyways, I had just come to a place in my personal life where Iseen a little peace and quiet ahead and nothing to do but go up in anaeroplane for the second reel of "The Dove." The war was over withoutJim being killed in it and a new chance offered by a big picturecontract the minute his uniform should be off him; I was going strongwith nothing but Broadway releases and a salary which made Morganjealous; my spring clothes hadn't a failure among them and only one ofmy hats was too tight in the head. The fool dogs was both healthy, thecook 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 fatcould not harm me, as the poet says, for I had dieted to-day. When allof a sudden Ma, who had hardly got over the Influenza, come down withBolshevism.

  Now the trouble with these new diseases is that the doctors don't seemto know anything about them nor what makes them catching. At least thatis the line of talk they pull, but I got a hunch myself, that if the fluhad 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 ofInfluenza. 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 own; if you spread it--thesame. Then again folks are kind of proud of having had the flu. It makesconversation and everything, and one which has escaped feels a littlemortified like admitting they had never seen Charlie Chaplin. Indeed,people certainly do get a lot of pleasure out of illness and etc. And solong 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.

  But with this Bolshevism it's the other way around. The talk comesfirst, but believe you me, the suffering will come afterwards. And ifthey could only be made to realise this ere too late, a whole lot ofpatients would be cured before they got it. A ounce of Americanism isworth a pound of red propaganda, as the poet says, or would of had hewritten to-day.

  Things started with Ma as per usual upsetting the cook which has come tobe a habit with her, for cooking is to Ma what his art is toCaruso--naught but death could tear her from it permanent. And while Igive her credit for trying in every way to be an idle rich, the kitchenmight as well be furnished with magnets and she a nail for all she cankeep out of it with the natural result that keeping out of it is thebest thing the cooks we hire do. And I can't say with any truth that Ihave made as much effort to break her of that as of some other lack ofrefinements, such as remembering that toothpicks ain't a public utilityand never to say "excuse my back," or keep her knife and fork for thenext course at the Ritz. Because believe you me, Ma is some cook and areal authograph dinner by her is something to bring tears of sweetmemory to the eyes of the older generation and leave us young things insympathetic wonder about them dear dead days when first classhome-cooking was a custom, not a curiosity. And so while the materialside of life don't interest me much, what with my work and etc. to takemy mind off it, still even a artist must eat or Gawd knows where thestrength to act in the "Dove of Peace" or any other six-reeler wouldcome from if I didn't, and Ma's is that simple nourishing kind, but withquality, the same as the sort of dresses I wear--made out of two dollarsworth of material and a thousand dollar idea.

  Well anyways, our latest cook which had a husband in the service and hadtook up her work again so's to release him for the front at Camp Mills,for he got no further, heard he was coming back home, having got hisdischarge and it upset her so but whether from joy or rage, I don't knowwhich, that there was nothing to eat in the kitchen but a little liquorshe had left at seven-thirty, when we went in to see what was the causeof delay, and me with Maison Rosabelle and a friend to dinner. So Mawoke her up out of her emotions which she claimed had overcome her, andgive her a honorable discharge of her own and then turned up the ends ofher sleeves, and only a little hampered by the narrow skirt to the greensatin evening gown she had on her, give us a meal as per abovedescribed. And no one would of cared how long it was before theintelligence office--I mean domestic, not U.S. Army--sent us a cook butthat in trying to save her dress Ma got hot grease on her right hand andthat changed the situation because we had to call up next day and takeanything they had--and they sent us up a German woman.

  Well, believe you me, that was a shock because I had an idea that allthe Germans in the country was either interned or incognito, but thisone wasn't even disguised, which isn't so remarkable on account of herbeing pretty near as big as Ma and a voice on her like a fog-horn witha strong accent on the fog. I never in my life see so many bags andbundles and ecteras as that female had with her, for she was undoubtedlyone, although she had a sort of moustache beside the voice. But what shehad in voice she certainly lacked in words. When Ma set out to ask herthe usual questions which everybody does, although their heart istrembling with fear, she won't take the job, this lady Hun didn'tdivulge no more information about herself than we asked. She was asstingy with her language as if it had been hard liquor. Ma asked her tocome in, and she did, and sat without being asked upon one of the goldchairs in the parlor which I certainly never expected it would survivethe test, they being made for parlor rather than sitting room.

  Well anyways, it's a fact she certainly was a mountain and if she were afair 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 hadset down a bundle done up in black oil-cloth, a cute little hand-bagabout a yard long made out of somebody's old stair-carpet, a shoe-boxwith a heel of bread sticking out at one end, an umbrella which lookedlike a sea-side one, a pot of white hyacinths in full bloom and anet-bag full of little odds and ends, she still had an old blackpocket-book and a big bulky bundle done up in a shawl lying idly in herlap. After I had taken all this in, I gave her personally the once-overand was surprised to see she wasn't so old as her figure, or anythinglike it. For by the size of her she might of been the Pyramids, but herface was quite young and if she had been a boy I would of said themoustache was the first cherished down.

  "What's your name, dearie?" says Ma, which I simply can't learn her notto be familiar with servants.

  "Anna," says the lump.

  "And where do you come from?" says Ma, giving a poor imitation of adetective.

  "Old Country," says Anna. Well, Ma and me at once exchanged glances,putting name and place together.

  "German?" says Ma. "Of course!"

  "Swedish," says Anna, more lumpishly than ever.

  And just at that moment the air was filled with a big laugh that none ofus there had give voice to. It was _some_ shock, that laugh, and Ma andme looked around expecting to see who had come into the room, but itwas nobody. Anna was the only one who didn't seem disturbed. She justwent on sitting.

  "Who was that?" says Ma.

  "It must of been outside," I says, for it was warm and we had thewindows open so's to let in the gasoline and railroad smoke and a littlefresh air.

  "I guess so," says Ma. Then she went back to her third-degree.

  "So you're Swedish!" says Ma. "Can you cook?"

  "Good!" says Anna. "Svell cook!"

  "Well, dearie!" says Ma, "why was it you left your last place?"

  "Too hot!" says Anna. And again me and Ma exchanged glances.

  "Are you a good American?" says Ma.

  "Good American-Swedish," says Anna. And immediately that awful laugh wasrepeated. This time it was in the room, no doubt about it. And yet noone was there outside ourselfs.

  "My Gawd!" says Ma. "What was it?"

  "Somebody is hid some place!" I says. "And I'd like to know who is itwith the cheap sense of humor?"

  "It bane Frits," says Anna. "Na, na, Frits!"

  "But where on earth . . ." I was commencing, when I noticed Anna wasunwinding the shawl off the package in her lap. And then in anothermoment we seen Frits for our own selves, for there he was, a bigmoth-eaten parrot, interned in a cage, making wicked eyes at us andgiving us the ha-ha like the true Hun he was!

  "Frits and me, we stay!" announced Anna comfortably. "We stay!"

  "But look here," says I, "we didn't start out to hire any parrots."

  "Why Mary Gilligan!" says Ma, and I could see she was scared that ifFrits went Anna would certainly go, too. "Why Mary Gilligan, I thoughtyou was fond of dumb animals!" she says.

  "And so I am," I says. "The dumber the better. But this one is evidentlyfar from it! How am I going to figure out my income tax with this birdhanging around?"

  "Hang in den Kitchen!" says Anna firmly, and at that we gave in, becausecooks is cooks, and what's a bird more or less after all? Still I didn'tlike him on account of suspecting he wasn't a neutral any more thanAnna was for all she claimed to be a Swede. I had read a piece in thepaper about where the Germans was pretending to be Swede or Spanish oranything they could get away with so's to remain free to spreadBolshevism and influenza and bombs and send up the price of dry andfancy goods and put through the Prohibition amendment and all them othergentle little activities for which they are so well and justly known.

  But I thought knowledge is power as the guy which wrote the copy-booksays, and I had the drop on Anna through being on to her disguise andbeside which I could see Ma was going to be miserable if she had to eatout while her hand was in the sling, and so we took the viper to ourbosom, or in other words, we hired her, and anyways, she had alreadyaccepted the job and it would of been a lot of trouble to get her out byforce. Which, believe you me, a person seldom has to do with servantsnow-a-days, and confirmed me about her being German because naturallypeople don't hire them, if acknowledging to themselves that they _are_Germans any more than they would now deliberately import sauerkraut orany other German industry. Do you get me? You'd better!

  But in this case there was a reasonable doubt together with a realnecessity, although from what come of it, I feel, looking backwards, itwould of been better to eat out and suffer than to of compromised withour patriotic consciences like we done at that time. Because there is_no_ reasonable doubt but that Anna's coming into the house was greatlyresponsible for Ma's catching Bolshevism.

  II

  NOT that she caught it off Anna directly, because for once we had a cookwhich couldn't talk or understand American and so there was no use inMa's hanging around the kitchen worrying the life out of her. And so thevery first morning Anna was on the premises, Ma commenced hanging aroundand worrying the life out of me.

  It happened we was waiting for the aeroplane I was to go up in to arriveat the studio, and so for once having my morning for myself, I thought Iwould just dash off my income tax return, and be done with it.

  But it seems that this is one of the things which is easier said thandone, the same as signing the peace-treaty, and believe you me, the lastain't got a thing on the former and I don't know did Pres. Wilson makeout his own income tax return or not. But if he did and the collector ofInternal Revenue left him get by with it as he must of or why would thePres. be in Paris, which is out of the country, well anyways, if thePres. did it alone, believe you me, he will get away with the treaty allright, and probably even write in this here Leg of Nations under table13, page 1, of return and instructions page 2 under K (b) without havingto ask anybody how to do it, he having undoubtedly shown the power tothink.

  Well anyways, I had taken all the poker-chips, silk-sale samples, oldtheatre programs and etc., out of my desk, found my fountain pen and abottle of ink, and was turning that cute little literacy test around andover to see where would I commence and had got no further than therealization that most of my brains is in my feet instead of behind myface, when Ma comes in and commences worrying me because she could notcook nor yet crochet like the lillies of the field, or whatever thatwell-known idle flower was. I tried to listen at least as politely asis ever required of a daughter to her mother, but when I was trying tofigure out my answer to question No. 5 and getting real mad over itspersonalness, I couldn't stand to hear her complain over not being ableto crochet them terrible mats she makes which are not fit for anythingexcept Xmas presents, anyways.

  "The trouble with you, Ma," I snapped at last, "is that you aught to geta live-wire outside interest. You're getting out of date. Ladies don'tcrochet no more and even knitting has been dished by the armistice. Younever read a newspaper or a book. You should go in for something snappyand up to the moment like literature or jobs for soldiers, or business,or something."

  This got Ma's goat right off, like I hoped it would.

  "Oh, so I'm on the shelf, am I?" she says, "well, leave me tell you MaryGilligan, if it wasn't for us back numbers you new numbers wouldn't even_be_ here, don't forget that! And after having been the first Americanlady to do the double backward leap on the two center trapeses, I canhardly be called a dead one, even if a little heavier than I was. Andfrom that time on I have never ceased to be forward."

  "You'd have to show me," I says, grimly.

  "All right, I will," she says.

  And believe you me, she did. She went and got on her dolman and herspring hat and left me in wrath and the midst of that income tax withthat "I'll never come back" air so familiar to all well-regulatedfamilies.

  Well, as I sat there struggling over where to put the x and = marks, andhow much exemption could I get away with and still be on speaking t
ermswith myself, and wondering whether the two fool dogs was dependents ornot--which they aught to be, seeing how helpless they are and a bigexpense and Gawd knows I keep them only for appearances and they aughtto come under the head of professional expenditures, because nowell-known actress but has them to help out the scenery--well anyways, Iwas deep in this highly high-brow occupation in the comparativelyperfect silence of my exclusive flat where ordinarily we don't hear athing but the neighbors' pianola and the dumb-waiter and the auto hornson the drive and the train just beyond--well, this comparatively forNew York, perfect silence was broke by an awful yell in the apartmentitself.

  "Anarchy!" a terrible voice hollered. And then again "Anarchy! Anarchy!"

  Believe you me, my blood turned to lemon soda for a moment and the boysin the trenches never had worse crawling down the back than me at thatminute, 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 followedwas even worse. And I sat there sort of frozen while expecting a bombwould go off any minute, and Gawd knows sixty thousand is a lot ofmoney, but any one which investigated the true facts could quickly seethat I earn every cent of it and anyways brains has a right to thebigger share, not to mention ability, and if the way I worked myself upfrom the lower classes ain't proof of what can be done single-handed inAmerica, I don't know what is, and anybody which works as hard and livesas decent as I done can do the same, not that I want to hand myselfanything extra, only speaking personally, I am in a position to know.

  But just the same I wasn't reasoning at the minute and the justice, asyou might say, of my case didn't occur to me until later. As I sat theretrying to remember to think, the voice yells it again, only this timewith additions.

  "Anarchy! Love Anarchy! Pretzel!"

  And then I realised it was that parrot belonging to the new cook.

  Can you imagine my feelings on top of my suspicions of her? You can! Igot up and went into the kitchen to see if a bomb was may be beingprepared for our dinner, but not at all. The kitchen was scrubbed to thelast tile, something that smelled simply grand was baking, the whitehyacinths was in the sun on the window-sill, and Anna was humming underher breath while she rolled out biscuit-dough. The radical parrot wasshut up, but only as to mouth, he being loose and walking about the topof the clothes-wringer, making himself very much at home, and giving me_some_ evil look as I come in.

  "Aren't you afraid he'll get away?" I says.

  "Huh?" says Anna, stopping rolling, and blinking at me.

  "Lose him--parrot----!" I says, pointing to him and flapping my armslike wings.

  "Frits?" she said. "Na--Frits like liberty!"

  And that was all I could get out of her. I stuck around for a fewminutes more, until Anna commenced to give me the cook's-eye, that birdbacking 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 mywork which Gawd knows I had to take it over to the bank and leave themdo it for me after all--but sat down instead to consider them twosuspicious birds in the back part of the flat. I personally myself wasconvinced that there was something very wrong about Anna. But so far shehad said nothing under the espionage law exactly and I didn't know couldyou arrest a bird for too much liberty of speech even though it lovedanarchy, and liberty and everything and was undoubtedly capable ofspreading propaganda what with the voice it had.

  Well anyways, as I was holding my marcelle wave with both hands andracking what little was underneath it over the situation, I heard thekey in the lock and in come Ma all flushed and cheerful and pleased withherself and handed me another jolt.

  "I had a real sweet, pleasant morning," she says, taking off her glovesand hat and wiping her face with one of them big handkerchiefs like sheused to carry in the circus and will not give up. "A real nice time,"she says, egging me on to question her.

  "Where have you been?" I says, like she wanted me to.

  "Oh, just to a little Bolsheviki meeting," she says, casual. And pickingup her things she started for her room.

  "Hold on, Ma!" I says, having managed to get my breath before shereached the door. "Say that again, will you?"

  She turned and come back at that, still keeping up the careless stuff.

  "Certainly," she says, "Bolsheviki meeting. Are you interested in thisup-to-date stuff?"

  "Interested!" I says. "Of course I am. I'm against it. Why Ma Gilligan!"I says. "Do you know what Bolshevism _is?"_

  "Do you?" says Ma, sweetly.

  "No!" says I. "And neither do they. But I am sure it's the bunk, and Ifeel it's wrong, and I am ashamed of you going!"

  "How old-fashioned of you, dearie," says Ma. "Have you ever heard aspeaker or been to a meeting?"

  "I don't need to!" I says short, being kind of at a loss.

  "Well, I have!" says Ma, triumphant.

  "Where was it at?" I demanded.

  "Down to the circus," says Ma. "In the Bear-wrestler's dressing room. Iwent to call on some of the folks and get the news and Madame Jones, thenew automobile act--very distinguished lady--got me to it. A mostexclusive affair, with only the highest priced acts invited!"

  "And who spoke?" I says.

  "Kiskoff, the bear-wrestler," says Ma. "It certainly was interesting."

  "What did he say?" I says, it getting harder and harder to remember Iwas a lady and she my only mother. "What did he say?"

  "I dunno!" says Ma.

  "You don't know!" I fairly yells. "And why don't you know?"

  "Because he only talks Russian!" says Ma, and walked out, leaving meflat.

  Well, believe you me, I was that upset I scarcely took any notice of mylunch, although it was a real nice meal, commencing with some juicy kindof fish and eggs and ending up with pancakes rolled up and filled withcream curds and powdered sugar.

  Ma took to these eats immensely, and she and Anna exchanged a couple ofsmiles, which made me feel like the only living American. And when laterin the day Ma told me she thought she'd join the Bolshevists if shedidn't have to be immersed, and that this Kiskoff's life was in dangerfor his beliefs just like the early Romans and nobody knew where helived, but was a man of mystery, I couldn't stand it another moment, butbeat it for a long walk by myself because my nerves was sure on edge andthat aeroplane stunt facing me next week.

  But the walk wasn't altogether pleasant, at least not at the start or atthe finish, because when I come out of our palatial near-marble frontstoop, there was a guy standing which might just as well of had on thebrass-buttons and all because you could tell at once by the disguisethat 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 youget me? You do!

  Well anyways, this bird was standing opposite our door, and at thesecond glance I had him spotted or nearly so, and when I come back fromwalking fast and wishing to Gawd Jim was back to advise me and occupyingour flat instead of Germany, the fly-cop was still there by which Ibecame certain he was one; the more so as I watched him from a windowonce I was in, and the way he kept camouflaging himself as a casualpasser-by, ended my doubts.

  Well, was that some situation? It was! Here was myself, a good Americanthough but an ignorant woman, surrounded by all the terrible anddisturbing elements of the day; with everything which aught to be keptout of every U. S. A. home creeping into mine, and all so sudden that Ihadn't got my breath yet much less any action. In fact, I was sort ofdizzy with what was happening, and my head didn't quiet down any when,after dinner that night, I heard deep voices out in back.

  "Anna has company!" says Ma in explanation. "Two of them, and I thinkthey are talking Russian. At any rate one has a beard almost as handsomeas Mr. Kiskoff's."

  This got my angora, and while no lady would ever spy on her cook, thiswas surely a exception and so I took a quiet peek in through the pantryslide and there was Anna and two big he-men all talking at once. Thewindow was open a little ways from the top and on it was Frits, alsotalking in
Russian or something, and no earthly reason why he couldn'ttake his liberty and go right out if he had really wanted it. And stillanother jolt was handed me when I realised one of the men was our veryown ice-man!

  Believe you me, when I went to bed that night in my grey French enameledEmpire style I was wore out with the series of jolts which the day hashanded me. But it is not my custom to sit back and talk things over toolong. I have ever noticed that the person which talks too much seldomdoes a whole lot, and that a quick decision if wrong, at least learnsyou something, and you can start again on the right track. And no laterthan the next day after a funny, though good breakfast, of coffee andnew bread with cinnamon and sugar baked into it and herrings in cream, Icommenced to act.

  "Ma, are you going to keep up this Bolshevist bull?" I says.

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

  "You are going to be wrong on that by this P. M.," I says, "or to-morrowat latest," I says, "because there is or aught to be something moderner,and that is United Americanism!" I says. "And since the only way tofight fire is with it, I am going to start a rival organization andstart it quick!" I says, "and I'm going to do it on a sounder basis thanyour people ever dreamed of because we'll all talk English so's we'lleach of us know what the organization is about!"

  "Why Marie La Tour!" says Ma, which it's a fact she only calls me thatwhen she's sore at me. "Why, Marie La Tour, what is your organizationgoing to do?"

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

  And so, without waiting for a come-back or any embarrassing questions, Ihustled into a simple little grey satin Trotteur costume which is Frenchfor pony-clothes and left that homefull of heavy-weight traitors where aradical parrot yelled "Anarchy" from morning till night, and even thesteam radiators had commenced to smell like dynimite. And having shutthe door after me with quite some explosion myself, I had the limousineheaded to the White Kittens Annual Ball Assn., which I was due at it onaccount of all the most prominent ladies in picture and theatricalcircles being on the committee and I naturally being indespensible ifonly for the value of my name. So I started off but not before I noticedthat the same plain-clothes John was again perched opposite my frontdoor.

  III

  ALL the way to the Palatial Hotel which the meeting is always held inthe grand ballroom of, I kept getting more and more worked up. Thingshad certainly gone too far when Bolshevism had spread from the parlor tothe kitchen or visa-versa, I didn't know which, and my own Ma beingundoubtedly watched by the more or less Secret Service, all because ofher having taken a fancy to them whiskers of this Kiskoff cockoo, whichis the only explanation I could make of it, and after being a widowtwenty years she aught to of been ashamed of herself. Still, it was abetter explanation for her to of lost her head than her patriotism, andI tried to think this the case. And my own position was something tobring tears to a glass eye, what with my well-known war-work and aperfectly good husband still in the service. And I had made a threat totake action, and had no idea what it would be, only that now I certainlyhad to deliver the goods.

  Well anyways, in despair and the limousine, I finally arrived at thePalatial and there in the lobby was several other White Kittens whichwere also late, so we give each other's clothes the once-over and askedafter our healths and etc., and then hurried up in the elevator to wherethe 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. Theroom was as full as could be with the biggest crowd I ever knew to turnout for it. But somehow while I am generally pretty well interested inany crowd, this time nothing seemed to register except my own thoughts.Even the chairlady couldn't hold my attention partially because she wasRuby Roselle, and what they wanted to elect that woman for I don't knowbecause her head is certainly not the part of her which earned hertheatrical reputation and a handsome back is no disgrace and if thatand a handful of costume is art far be it from me to say anything: butit is neither refinement nor does it make a good executor for a liveorganization like the Kittens. And what is more, any woman which had hernose changed from Jewish to Greek right in the middle of a big featurefillum can't run any society to suit me, not to mention the fact that asI sat there watching her talk I come slowly to realize that she hadseveral jewels and a couple of friends which was found to be pro-Germansand been interned, although nothing was ever proved onto Ruby herself.

  Still, coming on top of what I had been going through the last couple ofdays, I took a sudden suspicion of her being lady-chairman to one ofAmerica's oldest organizations of the female gender, it having beenformed 'way back in 1911. And what is furthermore, as I sat there hatingher with her synthetic Christian nose and her genuine Jewish diamonds,the big idea come at last--a way to at once get something started beforeshe did, because how did I know but she'd have the orchestra play "dieWatch on Rinewine," and feed us on weenies and pumpernickle for supperat the ball if something radical wasn't done at once? That is, I meanradical in the right sense, of course. So when she says "Any otherremarks?" I jumped to my feet quick before she could say "the meeting isinjoined."

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

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

  And then without hardly knowing what I was doing and forgetting even tofeel did my nose need powder before I commenced, I began talking withsomething fluttering inside me like a bird's wing. You know--a feelinglike a try-out before a big-time manager. But behind the scare, thestrength 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 allgood men to come to the aid of the party' so thrilled America that ithas become not alone printed in all copy books, but is the firstsentence which is learned by every typewriter. But since then times havechanged until, believe you me, now is the time for all good parties tocome to the aid of the nation in order to show all which are notAmericans first just where they get off, and ladies, we here assembledare a party not to be scorned, what with a sustaining membership of overfive hundred, and more than a thousand one-dollar members. And what ismore, though admittedly mere females we have a vote in most places now,including this state, and while I have no doubt you have always intendedto 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 seeanybody 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 orgentleman citizens, should get together in one big association for U. S.A. Actually get together instead of leaving things be. An associationis, as I understand it, intended for purposes of association. And whynot simply associate each association with every other, canning allsmall private schemes and party interests on the one grand commoninterest of Bolsheviking the Bolsheviks? I'm sure that if all partiesconcerned will forget they are Democrats or Republicans or Methodists orSuffragists--even whether they are ladies or gentlemen, and rememberthey are Americans, nothing can ever rough-house this country likeEurope has been in several places, for in Union is Strength, in God weTrust, but He helps those who helps themselves, and if we'll only dropour self-interests and make the union our first idea, God help theforeigners which tries to help themselves to our dear country!"

  By this time the girls was giving me a hand the like of which I neverhad before on stage or screen, because their hearts were in them. Do youget 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,
<
br />   "And how does Miss La Tour suggest we commence?" she says.

  "By unanimously voting ourselfs 'The White Kittens Patriotic Associationof America,'" I says at once. "Call a extra meeting to change theconstitution temporarily from annual Balls and festivals for thebenefit of indignant members, to a association for associating withother associations as before suggested. Use part of the money from theball just arranged for, to advertise our idea in newspapers andbillboards, and believe you me, by the time we ladies get that far, somegentleman's association will be on the job to show us a practical way touse ourselves!"

  Well, the Kittens seemed to think this all right, too, and in spite ofRuby, the next meeting was called and we broke up in high excitement,and I was surrounded by admiring friends all anxious to tell me theyfelt the same as me, and so forth and etc. And finally, after I had beentreated to lunch by several of them, not including Ruby, I collapsedinto my limousine, and said home James, and set my face flat-ward with abrave heart which knew no fear on account of having accomplishedsomething worth while. Even the sight of the obtrusively unobtrusivebull 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 myown home would be the first place to set in order, and how could I be agreat American female leader with a Bolshevist mother and a Germancook, and how could I preach a thing with one hand and not practice itwith the other? Of course, I could fire the cook, but how about Ma? Itwas she herself settled that part of it the moment I stepped into theparlor, for there she was all alone except for the two dogs, and whatwas more, all of a heap, beside.

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

  "Not Jim?" I gasps, my heart nearly stopping, for he is always the firstthing 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 aroundforever 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 agirl out in Kansas several years ago, and they parted when the circusleft, and it wasn't Russian he was talking, but Yiddish! He speaksEnglish 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' unionLocal 21--" says Ma. "He explained it all to the cops!"

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

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

  "Nothing so respectable!" I says very sharp, yet awful relieved that Ihad guessed the truth. "No such thing. Bolshevism is Russian forsore-head. Religion my eye! It's about as much a religion as small-poxis!"

  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 whichalways turns my dress to plaid calico and pulls my hair down my backagain.

  "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 andapologized, I was so glad to find she was a fake. And Ma promised toleave them low circus people alone for a spell and come back to theWhite Kittens again. I then announced I was going out and fire Anna. Atthat a look of terror came over Ma's face, and she restrained me by thesleeve.

  "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 likepoor Kiskoff's brought it. 'For Anna,' says he, and shoved it at me, andsnook 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 hadfired Anna before she got this swell chance of firing us.

  "Well, it looks just like the one in the picture where them threeGermans 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 melike the loyal mother she is, and the two of us stopped at thethreshhold as the poet says.

  And there, sure enough, in the middle of the spotless oilcloth on thekitchen table lay a mighty funny looking package, about the size of adish-pan and done up in that black oil-cloth them foreigners seem sofond of. And between yells from that radical parrot, who commenced his"I love Anarchy!" the moment he set eyes on us, we could hear thatevil-looking package tick as plain as day.

  Well, what with a mother and a father both practically born on thecentre 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 myheart commenced going too quick at that sight and the radical bird wasas usual loose in the place, and didn't make my nerves any easier. Buta stitch in time often saves a whole pair of silk ones, and rememberingthis, 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 forthe 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 longsling with it, and pretty near drowned the kitchen table, to say nothingof 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 Igrimly, "and here is where I hand him a little," says I.

  And then, without waiting even to roll down the georgettes, I hurried tothe window and looked out. Like most cops, he couldn't be seen at firstwhen wanted, but finally he came into view and I tried to catch hisattention, but was unable to at first. But finally he heard me andlooked up, and I beckoned.

  "Bomb!" I says. "Hurry up!"

  And did he hurry? He did! I would not of believed a man his size coulddo it, but he must of beat the elevator, for it never brought me up thatfast. When I let him in, his lack of surprise was the most alarmingthing which had yet been pulled. He evidently _expected_ a bomb to behere.

  "By golly, we'll get them now!" he says triumphantly. "We been watchingthis place for two months on account of having it straight that there isa bunch of Bolshevist bomb makers in this building or the next one, andthis is the first time anything has stirred! Where is your bomb? Lead meto it!"

  IV

  WELL, I didn't lead him exactly. Since he was so set up about it, I lethim go ahead, but Ma and me followed close behind and told him the wayand 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 inhis tracks for a minute. But he came to immediate, and we all stood atattention while he give that bundle the once-over. It was ticking awayas 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 andplunged 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. Thecop took his hands out the water and stood there dripping and staring ather.

  "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. Standoff 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 ayell as good as one of her pet parrot's.

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

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

  With which he undid the string, unfolded the oilcloth, and there was abig 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 smartand 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 toentertain 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 havestarts 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 tous. 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 yourAniky that you love! All day you yell you love may an' now you leavemay!"

  And as she said them words still another weight was lifted from myshoulders, although not from hers, for instead of jumping back, thatradical bird which it seemed was not a radical after all and acting likethe most conventional parrot in the world, commenced to climb up thefire-escape of the other apartment house, like he was leaving usforever.

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

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

  Anna held his coat, and he swung hisself over to the other side almostas neat as a picture-actor, and commenced following that mean-heartedbird up and up, story after story, until that animal led him in at aopen window about three flats above. We waited in silence and, believeyou me, I had about commenced to believe that bird and he was nevercoming out again, when down comes Mike, the bird tucked into his vest,his face simply purple with excitement. I never seen any acrobat workswifter or quieter than he did. He landed on the kitchen floor andclosed the window behind him before he even give Anna her bird.

  "The telephone!--quick! The telephone--headquarters at once--I've gotthat guy this time at last! And to think that a damn bird had to findhim for me!"

  And it was the truth. Frits, far from being an alien, was a good littleAmerican parrot and had actually led the cop to the very place he hadbeen looking for all that while, and they arrested two guys andeverything!

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

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

  "First thing in the morning!" I says, relieved to think of a quiet dayahead. Ain't it grand to have work you love to do? It's so restful!