BLITHESOME 
 * JOTTINGS * 
 
 A Diary of 
 Humorous Days 
 
 BY GERTRUDE SANBORN 
 
 BOSTON 
 THE FOUR SEAS COMPANY
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY 
 THB FOUR SEAS COMPANY 
 
 The Four Seas Press 
 
 BOSTON, MASS., U. S. A.
 
 TO 
 MT FATHER 
 
 2018810
 
 PREFACE 
 
 IT is my custom when haunting miseries 
 assail me, when the dark deeds of my 
 ancestors assume gigantic proportions, 
 and the failure of the iceman to leave the 
 specified hunk throws me into a double Hades 
 of wrath, to glide swiftly to the medicine 
 chest and secure a pellet from the calomel 
 bottle. One grain of calomel can overcome 
 a ton of morbid fancies, misunderstoodness, 
 black haze on bleak hills, and the whole 
 category of self assailed by self. I have found 
 this inner assault more destructive than cats 
 on a back fence at midnight, than a cook 
 subsequent to orders of discharge, than a 
 maple nut marshmallow fruit sundae on a 
 hot night. Then, too, I was always a melan- 
 choly unit until I was initiated into the great 
 order of Habit. I have learned that one may 
 pick and choose one's own habit of life. I 
 laid down my drooping, dispirited habit, and 
 when no one was about, I knocked it off the 
 counter into the vinegar barrel. It drowned
 
 there. Then I skillfully annexed an entirely 
 new habit, and slinging it over my chest 
 wrapped it tight round my throat and tucked 
 it in at the waist. A little ticket fastened into 
 the neckband of my new habit is marked 
 
 Style Happiness 
 
 Made by Perpetual Good Cheer 
 
 Size 365 days 
 
 Thus attired in blithesome garb, and forti- 
 fied by a liver pellet, I dedicate my days to 
 humorous jottings for the exhilaration of 
 those dreary ones among you who have not 
 yet found the magic combination. 
 
 GERTRUDE SANBORN.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 MY ACCOMPLISHMENTS ..... 5 
 
 I SPAR WITH THE H. C. OF L. . . . .11 
 
 THAT SLEEPLESS COUNTRY TOWN . ' , . 13 
 GEORGE OF THE POLICE .... 25 
 
 A BENEFICENT MOOD . . . . .31 
 
 EFFICIENCY ....... 38 
 
 EXPENSIVE GARDENING . . ...'.. -42 
 
 FROM BUN TO BUN ..... 46 
 
 THE MONEY KING AND THE SCRUBWOMAN . . 50 
 LINE'S BUSY ....... 54 
 
 No EXCUSE 58 
 
 MONDAY MORNING MOPES .... 62 
 Music IN THE PARK ..... 64 
 
 OUT OF AN OUTING 67 
 
 MOVIES ....... 70 
 
 BEATING IT OFF THE BEAT .... 77 
 
 THE MAN AND His DOLLAR .... 82 
 
 A NEGATIVE PURCHASE ..... 86 
 
 UNTRANSLATABLE 91 
 
 THE MAN WHO LISTENED . . 93 
 IDENTIFICATION . . . . . .96 
 
 TIRED BUT ATTIRED 99 
 
 VERY SUSPICIOUS 102 
 
 WEARING OF THE LONG GREEN .... 105 
 A DATE WITH FATE 109
 
 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 JOTTING THE FIRST 
 
 MY ACCOMPLISHMENTS 
 
 T HAVE studied neither isms nor ologies. 
 * I am partially uneducated. But I know 
 how to hold a soup spoon and how not to dig 
 fellow guests in the ribs, with my elbows, at 
 dinner. I am sufficiently versed in the ameni- 
 ties to abstain from grapevining my legs about 
 the rounds of my chair. But the repartee 
 of a foreigner embarrasses me. When an 
 Italian black hander threatens to abduct 
 my family, put a bomb in the bath tub, or 
 curse a fresh batch of dough, I smile. I think 
 he is inviting me home to help his wife eat 
 spaghetti. 
 
 When a Pole orates on the valorous deeds 
 of his countrymen I conclude he is enumer- 
 ating the number of men that work with him 
 
 5
 
 6 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 at the International Harvester shops. When 
 a Frenchman pours forth his liquid chatter, 
 salutes the sun, points to his cigarette, and 
 bows profoundly, I think he is asking my 
 hand in marriage and I take the next car back 
 to where I came from. 
 
 With a Norwegian it is a little different. 
 Ninety-nine times out of ninety-nine I am 
 sure to be right in supposing that he is offering 
 to sell me hardanger drawn work for three 
 times the amount he paid for it, or enlighten- 
 ing me upon every common place topic under 
 the sun which he knows a great deal more 
 about than I do. 
 
 All the years I spent at school I stared 
 idly from a window. I have become more 
 and more proficient, with the advancing years, 
 in the art of gazing through windows. It 
 is no mean task to become thoroughly con- 
 versant with Mrs. Other's spring outfit, 
 from revamped hat brim to mouse-colored 
 skirt. These articles I suspect of having 
 been shipped in by her home town dress- 
 maker who concocts "the swellest rigs at 
 half the price of these here duds in the city." 
 Nor is it a light task, during the inspection,
 
 MY ACCOMPLISHMENTS 7 
 
 to prevent Mrs. Other from noticing me and 
 to prevent myself from mussing the lace 
 curtains, freshly dried in the back yard on a 
 frame by the faithful maid. (Nobody has 
 offered her more yet.) 
 
 I eat most of my meals in restaurants. On 
 those rare occasions when I do dine at my 
 own board I eat anything the maid happens 
 to like. At night I sleep on a lounge to avoid 
 wrinkling the sheets on my bed. I absent 
 myself three nights a week so that the maid 
 may sit in the living room surrounded by 
 the comforts and refinements of a home. 
 
 As the maid cannot bring herself to ap- 
 prove of my friends I have cut almost every- 
 body from my calling list. All but the 
 postman who brings letters from the maid's 
 beau when he is out of town and who has 
 an admiring eye for her blonde beauty and 
 is sent hither by the government. I feel 
 very grateful to the government, indeed 
 whenever the thrilling ring of the doorbell 
 wakes my solitude. 
 
 The maid doesn't approve of old Mrs. 
 Comover, next door, who brings in fruit, 
 beans and primroses from her garden. She
 
 8 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 says fruit is a bother to cook, beans have to 
 be strung, and her friend Ella gets poisoned 
 with them blamed primroses. So of course, 
 under the circumstances, there is nothing 
 to do but insult Mrs. Comover, beat her 
 with a piece of lead pipe or tell her we have 
 smallpox. Anything to wipe her off the 
 calling list. 
 
 I spend many pleasant hours in the com- 
 pany of the furnace however. The maid 
 likes to be warm. Back in the old country, 
 where she came from, she had to lug wood, 
 build fires and empty ashes. There was 
 no one to do it for her. But here she has me. 
 She is not a person who loses opportunities 
 for betterment, so while I wearily plod over 
 the dusty floor, in the bowels of my estab- 
 lishment, shoveling in coal, she sits on the 
 first floor and sings, with piano accompani- 
 ment, that beautiful old melody concerned 
 with the status of a being who is as free as a 
 bird from the mountain. 
 
 But distressing as this situation may seem, 
 from a philosophical standpoint it is really a 
 blessing in disguise. For it is thus that I 
 have become an accomplished fireman. If
 
 MY ACCOMPLISHMENTS 9 
 
 worst comes to worst I can always secure a 
 stoking job in the yawning interior of a sea 
 going craft, or knock down a fair weekly 
 wage behind a shovel in a boiler factory. 
 Everyone should have some one accomplish- 
 ment, something to tie to in an hour of need. 
 
 This bringing up of American girls in utter 
 disregard of the wisdom of training for jobs 
 is deplorable. I do not know that had I 
 made a choice I should have picked the avo- 
 cation of a fireman, thrilling and rigorous 
 though it be. But now that it has picked 
 me, as it were, I submit. Over my cool 
 breakfast coffee, which my maid kindly 
 brings me after she has had hers hot, and my 
 hard morning roll with its thin coating of 
 something almost like butter, almost as 
 expensive I mean, I smile complacently. I 
 know that if these luxuries are grabbed from 
 me by grasping Fate, I still have my calling, 
 avocation, profession I am a qualified fire- 
 man. Engineering Trade journals, Coal, 
 Coke and allied publications please notice. 
 
 In the afternoon the maid usually does a 
 great deal of talking over the telephone when 
 I am trying to dovetail an adjective into a
 
 io BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 noun. But who am I to forbid the free 
 speech of a maid? I go down to the depot, 
 where it is a great deal quieter, and write. 
 I could hug the depot architect. He has 
 made it possible for me to eat a hard boiled 
 egg in a charming nook, under a stained 
 glass window, in comparative peace. 
 
 Truly I am receiving an inflexible training 
 at the hands of my maid. Among the list 
 of things that for me are taboo are: friends 
 that my maid does not like; food that I like; 
 sleep in the morning; economy; whole sets 
 of dishes; any infinitesimal service before 
 9 a. m. or after 5 p.m.; luncheon for trips to 
 the country; ideas as to management; chil- 
 dren; more than two bedrooms; starched 
 clothes; illness of any kind; furniture where 
 I want it; sofa pillows; pictures stuck in 
 mirrors; cleaning by old-fashioned methods; 
 the expectation of any kind of endeavor that 
 would cause a puny mosquito to strike. 
 
 For this state of thing I can merely com- 
 miserate myself for having been born in the 
 poetic class, where all is hard work and no 
 pay, instead of in the piratic class where all 
 is high pay and no work.
 
 JOTTING THE SECOND 
 
 I SPAR WITH THE H. C. OF L. 
 
 " / TPHIS high cost of living agitation is no 
 
 ^ joke," said a man to me this morning 
 as he paid in his ticket and stood up while the 
 car bumped over the crossings. An utter 
 stranger had mistaken his tan shoes for a 
 cocoa mat and a frisky giant was leaning on 
 his chest. 
 
 "Nope," I returned from where I was 
 flattened out against the heater. 
 
 "Of course we spend a lot of money fool- 
 ishly," continued the man, "but I congratu- 
 late myself on being pretty economical when 
 it comes to clothes. Now these shoes cost 
 me #5, and I'll wear 'em six months; my hat 
 was $3.50 and my suit #25." 
 
 " Do you eat downtown at noon ? " I queried 
 irrelevantly. 
 
 "Yep, every day but Sunday." 
 
 I got out a notebook and pencil. There 
 
 11
 
 12 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 was silence while the car ran a block. The 
 man looked a bit piqued; he had one of those 
 tongues that prefer active service. 
 
 "Well," said I finally, "I figure out that 
 your wardrobe will have cost you at the end 
 of six months just $82.90. You have your 
 shoes shined every other day at a cost of 
 10 cents, making a total of $7.80 for six 
 months; suit pressed once a week at $i a 
 pressing, making $26; 10 cents to get your 
 lid out of a restaurant every day, a total of 
 $15.60. Total $49.40. Added to original 
 cost of hat, shoes and suit it reaches $82.90. 
 
 "Do you figure everything out like that?" 
 asked the man in a weak voice. 
 
 "Pretty nearly. Especially when I get 
 too chesty about how little Pm spending. 
 Here's my corner. Good-by." 
 
 "Bye," said the man.
 
 JOTTING THE THIRD 
 
 THAT SLEEPLESS COUNTRY TOWN 
 
 TT was Saturday. Inga, the new maid, 
 -* was dusting bric-a-brac and I was eating 
 chocolates when father came in hurriedly. 
 
 "The city is so noisy," he blustered, 
 " suppose we go into the country for the week 
 end. I must get some rest before the di- 
 rectors' meeting on Monday." 
 
 "Let's go to Hefferson," I suggested. "I 
 saw the name on a time table and it sounds 
 like a quiet country town." 
 
 "Good!" exclaimed father, "get your things 
 packed. We'll sleep, cool off and be re- 
 juvenated." 
 
 I closed my desk and shrouded my type- 
 writer. Inga got down my suit case. She 
 carries her clothes in a paper box stoutly 
 tied with string saved from the butcher's 
 packages. She pushed open the screen door 
 
 13
 
 14 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 and looked out through the aperture at the 
 western sky. A band of marauding flies 
 took this opportunity to join us. 
 
 "Can't you see through the screen?" I 
 called testily. "I can." 
 
 She ignored my implied correction. Then 
 she went to packing. The weather was clear 
 and fine, if hot. Inga packed a pair of rubbers 
 and my sweater. Possibly Norseland erudi- 
 tion had divined a rupture between the brush 
 and comb, something in the nature of a legal 
 separation, for the brush was put in while 
 the comb remained behind. 
 
 Finally, everything packed that I didn't 
 need and all the articles necessary to my 
 comfort omitted, we were off. Father, with 
 much foresight gained by divers trips over 
 the landscape in palace cars had purchased 
 tickets for our chairs in advance. We climbed 
 aboard the train after perspiring and mopping 
 and identifying everybody's else baggage 
 as our own. Numbers 15, 17 and 19 had 
 been assigned to us as the particular up- 
 holstered racks on which we were to broil 
 and bake, very elegantly, all the way to 
 Hefferson. In the coaches ahead the mob
 
 THAT SLEEPLESS COUNTRY TOWN 15 
 
 was vulgarly hanging from the windows, 
 handkerchiefs under chins, catching any stray 
 breeze that came along. But there is no 
 real breeze in a palace car. The vitiated 
 air that hovers over MacArthur is suddenly 
 sent whistling down to DePeyster at the 
 other end of the car when somebody throws 
 the current into the electric fan. DePeyster 
 battles for breath and the general atmos- 
 pheric heaviness becomes more aggravated 
 as the fan drives the waves back and forth 
 over bald heads and across perspiring faces. 
 
 The patrons of the palace car pay to be 
 exclusive. The gum chewing, lunch carrying 
 gang, in the coaches ahead, is breathing fresh 
 air through the open windows so the company 
 has thoughtfully provided a place where 
 quiet, exclusive patrons can be quite separated 
 from ozone. 
 
 We found chair 15. A stout man was sitting 
 in it. His wife sat in 17. She was also in- 
 clined toward umbompom (I spell it as it is 
 said for the benefit of any word impoverished 
 individual who has not had the advantage of 
 an education that affords the glib pronuncia- 
 tion of words used in describing the elite).
 
 1 6 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 "Sir," said father pacifically to the stout 
 gentleman, "I hold tickets for the seats you 
 are occupying." 
 
 "Signifies nothing. I hold the seats!" 
 returned the stout gentleman. 
 
 Father and I smiled benignly. Why argue 
 with people who are neither traveled nor 
 brilliant? When the porter came the chairs 
 were ours. All the rest of the chairs in the 
 car being occupied the stout family went 
 grumbling into the coach. 
 
 "I wonder if they ain't better off," whis- 
 pered Inga, "wouldn't you call this stuffy?" 
 
 "Stuffy!" I returned disdainfully, "you 
 must learn to discriminate. You must cease 
 to yearn for low class things when you are 
 traveling in a high class manner." 
 
 "Uh huh, yah," answered Inga pulling up 
 the shade so that the sun struck me in the 
 eye and hanging my coat so the lace collar 
 wiped all the soot from the woodwork. 
 
 Presently a fine white dust, resembling 
 the alkali one encounters traveling to Cali- 
 fornia, sifted through the ventilators. I got 
 out my pad, borrowed a pencil from the 
 porter and wrote a treatise on the different
 
 THAT SLEEPLESS COUNTRY TOWN 17 
 
 dusts encountered on different roads, com- 
 paring the acrid, tasteless, thin and thick 
 varieties. Following this with a vivid de- 
 scription of the sights that might be 
 seen if it were not for the opaqueness of the 
 atmosphere, I mailed the whole at the next 
 town, to the president of this particular road, 
 accompanying it with the suggestion that 
 he have copies run off and handed to his 
 patrons so that when viewing the scenery 
 became impossible, reading about it by a 
 well known author could be substituted. 
 The president never answered my letter. I 
 suppose he was traveling abroad or confined 
 to his bed. 
 
 We reached Hefferson station at 4.10. 
 Father stepped into a nearby saloon. Oh, 
 dear no, father never drinks anything. He 
 went into the saloon to telephone for a cab. 
 Braver than Napoleon, who you will remem- 
 ber, was deterred in his advance on St. 
 Petersburg by clean, gentle snowflakes, we 
 advanced on Hefferson in a fusilade of dust. 
 
 The proprietor of the Hefferson House had 
 gone home to dinner. After eating a meal 
 in his hotel we understood his anxiety to see
 
 1 8 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 the home folks and kiss the baby three times 
 a day. Kissing a baby hippo would have 
 been a pleasure compared with eating the 
 Hefferson House custard pie. 
 
 Our rooms were large, airy and opened on 
 the public square. There was a fat man 
 lying on my bed when Inga and I entered. 
 He stared, arose and shuffled out into the 
 hall, Inga opened my suit case and crammed 
 its contents into a bureau drawer. Almost 
 immediately the fat man returned, coming 
 through the door, which we had neglected 
 to close, with a pillow case, towels and a bar 
 of soap in his hand. 
 
 "I'll put another pillow case on," he said, 
 "everybody drops into this room to lay down 
 and it had ought to be freshed up a mite." 
 
 "Won't you please call the chambermaid?" 
 I said peremptorily. 
 
 "I'm her," answered the fat man. "Pop 
 ain't hired a girl fer this work since I come 
 out of school. I do all the beds, and we've 
 got twenty of 'em and I do all the dustin' 
 and sweepin' and empty in'." 
 
 After tea we walked about the town, 
 viewing the public buildings and getting
 
 THAT SLEEPLESS COUNTRY TOWN 19 
 
 ourselves into a receptive state anticipatory 
 of the early call of Morpheus. 
 
 "No need to hurry in the morning" in- 
 structed father as he bade me good-night, 
 "we'll have a long comfortable night of it, 
 breakfast late, drive in the afternoon, another 
 good sleep to-morrow night and home re- 
 freshed and rejuvenated Monday. I shall 
 call you about nine o'clock." 
 
 While I undressed, Inga stared from the 
 window at the public square. 
 
 "Is it Noo York you're always telling me 
 has such grand night life, say? There's 
 going to be some here, looks like, too," Inga 
 informed me. Certainly the stage was set, 
 the square was a blaze of light. There were 
 four windows in my room and I was obliged 
 to rise eight separate times, twice to each 
 window, first to pull the shade down between 
 me and an inquisitive arc light and second 
 to shut the window because the shade napped 
 in the warm breeze. Finally there remained 
 just one thing more to do. I fought off the 
 urgency of it for some time, my legs being 
 tired with traveling and my spirit weary 
 with the consequent adjustments. But I
 
 20 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 had to do it at last. I had to get up, climb 
 onto the back of a rocking chair one foot 
 on the wash basin and one hand clutching 
 the door jamb, and pin my black petticoat 
 across the transom opening into the hall 
 through which a red fire escape light was 
 shining. 
 
 Hermetically sealed, and having produced 
 an artificial darkness in the heart of a bril- 
 liantly illumined town, I was just dropping 
 off to sleep when nine o'clock struck out 
 from a nearby tower and a brass band struck 
 up from the square below. 
 
 I squeezed my eyelids together determined 
 to let no single note in on my consciousness, 
 but when good friend Will Tell was brutally 
 dragged forth and clubbed and heckled, I 
 arose and sat by the window. Tell had 
 given me many pleasurable hours and out 
 of respect for these memories it was appro- 
 priate that one friendly heart should bear 
 him company. 
 
 Inga got out of bed too and sewed on a 
 bureau scarf she was making to send to her 
 mother in Norway. Marooned on an island 
 of sleepless hours I fell to thinking of that
 
 THAT SLEEPLESS COUNTRY TOWN 21 
 
 other wayfarer Crusoe and his faithful ser- 
 vant. Suppressing a lament over Inga's 
 ineffectual attempts at serving, I murmured 
 "Oh, for a Friday!" 
 
 "A fried aigg, say," echoed Inga, "you 
 don't seem to have no regard for your stomach. 
 I suppose you want me to go to the kitchen 
 and hunt up something for you to eat, but 
 I wouldn't eat fried stuff so late, if I was you." 
 
 Father came to the door, and finding 
 me up, he moved a brown marble-topped 
 table into the center of the room and we 
 played cards. The band concert was over 
 at eleven, and when the shouting, whistling 
 crowd had thinned out somewhat, we all 
 went back to bed again. But the quiet 
 was short lived. The band had not gone 
 far. Just across the square stood the opera 
 house and the band went in there and played 
 until morning while the people who were 
 not shuffling about on the hotel piazza 
 danced. 
 
 At one a. m. I dropped into my first doze. 
 Almost immediately someone clumped into 
 the washroom, which was the room next to 
 mine, and turned on the faucets in the tub.
 
 22 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 He took a long, loud bath and was closely 
 followed by six other persons. I gleaned 
 during the course of the next hour, that these 
 nocturnal bathers were employees of the 
 hotel. The barber, the cook, the porter, a 
 waitress, another waitress, the bus driver 
 and last of all the male chambermaid. These 
 various ablutions finally brought to a moist, 
 steamy finish, I drifted off to dreamland, 
 accompanied by a strong scent of cheap soap 
 which came leaking in under the sill of my 
 door. 
 
 Perhaps you have been at the front when 
 devilish instruments of destruction were boom- 
 ing; perhaps you have been around when 
 blasts of dynamite lifted chunks of the earth's 
 surface; maybe you have heard a boiler 
 explode or have become intimately acquainted, 
 in some other manner, with those vast sounds 
 the word detonation expresses. But have 
 you ever been asleep in a country hotel when 
 the three a. m. freight struck town and 
 switched? And switched? And switched? 
 
 If you have enough said. If you have 
 not well, please excuse me, will you ? My 
 vocabulary is not sufficiently full to attempt
 
 THAT SLEEPLESS COUNTRY TOWN 23 
 
 a description of what ninety tons of engine, 
 followed by forty-eight rattling bumping emp- 
 ties can do to a one-eighth inch eardrum. 
 
 Of course I got out of bed again, rummaged 
 in my emergency toothache kit for wads of 
 cotton, stuffed them three deep in my ears 
 and sat up till that satanic engineer snorted 
 on his way through the sleeping fields. I 
 noticed the arc lights were out. I pulled 
 up all the shades, opened all the windows 
 and in the fresh morning air prepared to 
 snooze. My nerves tingled so I practiced 
 a few relaxing exercises. I became deliciously 
 drowsy. It was worth a half night's getting 
 up and down for. A wagon rattled over the 
 stones. I smiled and went to sleep for 
 a moment. 
 
 It is the custom in some country hotels to 
 get out the hose early Sunday morning and 
 wash the porches. This was one of those 
 hotels. There now emerged from the bowels 
 of the establishment some mysterious, be- 
 cause unseen, being who turned a torrent of 
 water loose on the Saturday night peanut 
 shells and cigar stumps. After half an hour's 
 flushing of the porches, the being invaded
 
 24 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 the office, which was directly under my room, 
 and the dining room, which was beneath 
 father's apartment. The office door was 
 heavy. Every time the mysterious being 
 moved a number of chairs, dragging them 
 along the hardwood floor with a whawooshish 
 sound, he banged the office door. I looked 
 at my watch. It was five o'clock. 
 
 Rat-tat-tat sounded on my door. 
 
 "Yes yes, what is it?" I called. 
 
 "There is a train back to the city in half 
 an hour," came father's appealing voice, 
 "Can you get ready? I want to get back 
 where it is quiet. I must get some rest 
 before the director's meeting to-morrow."
 
 JOTTING THE FOURTH 
 
 GEORGE OF THE POLICE 
 
 I had on some new clothes. 
 I looked nifty. My spirit was chort- 
 ling with glee. 
 
 There is nothing, no highly satisfying 
 political situation, rise in wheat, or latest 
 news of a baseball hero, that can convey to 
 one's whole being the extreme joy brought 
 on by a new piece of cloth across one's back. 
 
 I pranced down the street. A man stepped 
 out of a store and turned in ahead of me. His 
 left hand was in his coat pocket. I did not 
 consider it necessary to be suspicious of him 
 at that time on this account. In fact I did 
 not consider him at all. 
 
 I nodded gaily to acquaintances. Meet- 
 ing Mrs. Tweedle, I asked after the baby. 
 When informed that it was a little under the 
 weather I was so far engrossed in my own 
 feelings as to reply "Oh, really!" in just 
 
 25
 
 26 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 the warm tone I might have used for con- 
 gratulations, upon receiving news that its 
 Uncle Steve had died, way out in Dakota, 
 leaving a ten thousand dollar inheritance. 
 
 Heigh-ho ! Blue sky, new clothes a dog 
 bumped into me. I looked down. He looked 
 up. Very carefully I drew one foot in. He 
 was standing on the other one. 
 
 "Hello, dog," I said. 
 
 This was a mistake. Never address a 
 dog unless you are perfectly sure that upon 
 standing on his hind legs he can't reach your 
 coat collar. To this end it might be well 
 to mentally calculate the number of inches 
 from muzzle to hind foot, be it understood 
 this must be done swiftly, and if length 
 doesn't correspond satisfactorily with one's 
 particular stature, pass rapidly along as 
 though bent on an important mission. 
 
 Well, I made a mistake, the dog did the 
 rest. 
 
 He walked up my clothes taking an 
 oblique course on the way up and a sort 
 of general hit and miss on the way down. 
 He was a thorough brute and something 
 of a colorist. He had recognized me in
 
 GEORGE OF THE POLICE 27 
 
 my Palm Beach sand shade as too exuberant 
 a being. 
 
 With a few deft touches he stamped me into 
 a muddy, dauby taupe. I saw large letters 
 on his collar. I bent over it and read 
 "George" and under it "Police Department." 
 
 A chill closed in on me. Police! and I 
 was still carrying the gold embossed card 
 case I had picked up in the street car and 
 neglected to turn in to the company. 
 
 I remembered reading that the sagacity 
 of these dogs is wonderful. No doubt he 
 had scented the card case and knew it for 
 an alien thing; so much discovered, he had 
 picked me for a thief. 
 
 Or perhaps his training had progressed to 
 such a pitch that the unpaid laundry bill in 
 my inner pocket was disturbing him. At 
 such moments many dark deeds rise out of 
 the past to confront one. Frozen with ap- 
 prehension, I stared at the dog. He darted 
 off and capered round the man ahead of me. 
 It was the same man who had turned out of 
 a gate with one hand in his pocket a few 
 moments before. The man's hand went 
 deeper into his pocket.
 
 28 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 The dog circled round and round. Fre- 
 quently he came back and looked hard at 
 me. Then the man turned and peered at 
 me. Next he bent down and looked at the 
 dog's collar. I saw his start of surprise. He 
 took his hand from his pocket and with it a 
 long, flat parcel, which he hugged close to 
 his chest, keeping it in place with both hands. 
 Ha, a thief! thought I and the dog is 
 watching him. 
 
 The next few moments found the man, 
 the dog and myself standing on a corner 
 looking up the track for a surface car. The 
 dog stood midway between us, alert and 
 keen-eyed. The man stared at me. I 
 glanced covertly at him. The situation be- 
 came strained. 
 
 With the arrival of the car, George very 
 cleverly hopped on board, keeping his eye 
 on both of us. 
 
 I stepped at once to the conductor saying, 
 "Here is a card case I found on a car several 
 days ago and forgot to turn in," thereby 
 clearing my character. 
 
 "Whose dog is this?" howled the con- 
 ductor. "Dogs ain't allowed here."
 
 GEORGE OF THE POLICE 29 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders and said "Per- 
 haps he is with this gentleman." 
 
 "No, madam," returned the man, "I 
 thought he was, ah going about with 
 you." 
 
 "Not at all," I returned coldly; "never 
 saw him before," and so saying I entered 
 the car. 
 
 "Here, lady, you ain't paid your fare!" 
 bawled the conductor. 
 
 I returned and with much hauteur dropped 
 in a car ticket. 
 
 The man with the package smiled pityingly. 
 I could see him thinking, "So young so 
 dressed up and a thief! Too bad." 
 
 The conductor induced George to disem- 
 bark and the car started. 
 
 The man and I eyed each other all the 
 way up town. 
 
 This evening I met him at a dinner. After 
 being introduced, I said "Mr. Smith, why 
 did that dog follow you with so much anxiety 
 this morning?" 
 
 "Well, you see," he laughed heartily, my 
 wife said to me at the breakfast table, 'Al, 
 the high cost of living is driving me frantic,
 
 30 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 you must do something to help solve the 
 problem, and what I had done was to go to 
 a cash-down butcher shop and get a pound 
 of round steak for a stew and I had it 
 with me!"
 
 JOTTING THE FIFTH 
 
 A BENEFICENT MOOD 
 
 T THREW open my wardrobe door this 
 morning and said, "There's that long, 
 blue ulster of mine. Last season's. Made 
 by best tailor. Too good for old clothes' 
 woman. I'll just run out and give it to 
 some absolutely worthy person." 
 
 Brush and comb in one hand I dashed 
 to the telephone and called the garage. I 
 explained to the chauffeur that I would need 
 him a bit earlier, at 9.30 say, as I was giving 
 away a coat and must reach a meeting of 
 the club at 10.00, dentist at 11.30 and so on. 
 
 John mumbled something about "Very 
 good, ma'am," and I went on pushing hair- 
 pins into my scalp 
 
 Suddenly it dawned on me that in order 
 to carry out my plan of giving away a per- 
 fectly good, warm, well-made ulster, I must 
 first find the person. I consulted the tele- 
 si
 
 32 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 phone directory. I called Main 137. A 
 weary, world-worn voice answered with the 
 information that I was holding the attention 
 of the So and So Charitable organization. 
 Just here I wondered why nature had not 
 been more charitable in the matter of endow- 
 ing this person with something greater than 
 the energy of a shrimp. 
 
 However, such speculation aside, I asked 
 in a straightforward, American lady tone 
 for the address of a woman who might 
 prove worthy of a blue, well cut ulster. 
 
 The shrimp, seemingly peeved, inquired, 
 "A what?" I replied graciously, "A ulster." 
 The person snapped "A bolster! What could 
 we do with a bolster?" 
 
 Then I explained gently, pacifically, care- 
 fully that the article in question was a coat, 
 something to wear on cold days and so forth. 
 
 The telephone answered back "What 
 name?" 
 
 I replied, ' Why, I never named the coat, 
 not customary in my set. However, Alice 
 would do. It's blue." 
 
 "I'm very busy this morning. Kindly 
 state your name."
 
 A BENEFICENT MOOD 33 
 
 A blast of cold air froze the tip of my left 
 ear. 
 
 "My name is G. Sanborn. I live at 506 
 Drixel Avenue." 
 
 A silence ensued, a strained uneasy silence, 
 that finally took on a haughty quality. 
 
 "Sorry, but you are not on our list. If 
 a bag of coals would help you any, apply 
 to the city. We have no coats to give away 
 at present." 
 
 I suddenly felt that I was choking to 
 death. I screamed in a double forty stac- 
 cato, "Wait wait wait! I don't want 
 a coat. Do you understand? I have dozens 
 of coats blue gray brown and a new 
 mauve velvet. I want to give away 
 -a coat!" 
 
 "O ! We will be glad to receive it. 
 Bring it here and we'll see what can be 
 done!" 
 
 Then I took a long breath and explained 
 that I myself, personally, with my own 
 hands, wished to place this coat on the back 
 of a chilly and deserving woman. 
 
 "We do these things properly. Bring the 
 coat to us."
 
 34 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 The coat suddenly became to me an object 
 of exceeding value. I determined never to 
 let it leave my grasp except to cover some 
 dreary being who should stand shivering 
 before me. So I said, as if to close the 
 argument, "Just give me the name of some- 
 one and I'll take the coat to her at once." 
 I heard a grating noise over the telephone, 
 then a deep feminine voice bellowed, "Lady, 
 we don't give addresses, we don't know you, 
 we know nothing of this coat. We can't 
 sanction miscellaneous giving. We have our 
 own viewpoint. We are busy this morning." 
 
 I smiled. I remembered now that this 
 wasn't the kind of a place upon which to 
 cast a blue ulster anyway. So, thanking 
 the voice kindly for the attention I had not 
 received, I closed the conversation. 
 
 A few minutes later, confident and cheer- 
 ful, I got into the motor and informed John 
 that this was the coat I was giving away. 
 
 John batted his eye at it and said, "Why, 
 it's your blue ulster, ain't it, Miss? The 
 one you wore last week to the skating match. 
 Somebody'll look grand in it." 
 
 Next I went to a city office and lugged
 
 A BENEFICENT MOOD 35 
 
 the coat right in with me. I stood in line 
 and heard all about a woman with six children 
 and a husband who was hit in a saloon, "fer 
 why, I dunno." 
 
 Finally I was waited upon. I told my 
 story. The man behind the desk looked 
 suspicious, then anxious, then amused. He 
 called up the sick division and after listening 
 to scraps of family history covering several 
 dozen families, at last he said, "Well, I 
 guess we've got you fixed out all right. 
 Gimme the coat." 
 
 I said firmly, "I will keep it and take it to 
 where it is going myself." 
 
 He scribbled on a paper and handed it to 
 me. I went out beaming and handed the 
 paper to John, who also beamed, feeling a 
 proud flush of glory at helping the poor. 
 John looked long at the paper. His face 
 assumed a weird hue. 
 
 "This place is ten miles out, ma'am. The 
 bridge over the first river is broke down, 
 you have to scow acrost the second river and 
 there ain't no scows runnin' in winter and 
 this address says, * third house to left of saloon' 
 and I know of twelve saloons in that village."
 
 36 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 I laughed. It was a good place to laugh. 
 I felt that if this sort of thing went on, I 
 might never have occasion to laugh again. 
 Then I shivered thinking how cold the un- 
 known woman, who was waiting, must be 
 by this time. 
 
 I flung the coat into the motor and flew 
 back up the long flight of stairs to the city 
 office. It was locked. The twelve o'clock 
 whistles were blowing. I experienced the 
 bitter sting of Nemesis. 
 
 Before luncheon, exceeding all speed limits, 
 splashing slush and mud up on all sides, we 
 tore to six hospitals. At each one I went 
 to the charity ward. At the first I offered 
 the coat to a consumptive. She concluded 
 she was too dark looking to wear blue. 
 Then I tried it on a rosy German who had 
 lost her arm. She didn't admire the style. 
 I begged an Italian to take it. She thought 
 I was trying to sell her something. Not a 
 soul could I wish it onto. Where were the 
 shivering multitudes I had! read so much 
 about? Where was just one cold person? 
 
 Going down the steps of the last hospital, 
 a careless painter, who was trying to earn
 
 A BENEFICENT MOOD 3? 
 
 an honest living, by balancing himself on 
 one foot on a scaffolding, spilled a bucket 
 of pale green paint all down my back. 
 
 I descended in great trouble to John, whose 
 quick wit always rises nobly in distress. He 
 peeled my dripping tweed jacket from me, 
 and reaching into the back of the motor, 
 brought forth my blue ulster and held it 
 in his own inimitably stylish manner. 
 
 Having clapped me into it he said, "We've 
 just got time to get home for luncheon. 
 You certainly do look swell in that ulster, 
 ma'am." 
 
 Footsore and dazed, I murmured something 
 about " So glad to have brought it with me."
 
 JOTTING THE SIXTH 
 EFFICIENCY 
 
 'TPHIS afternoon I was walking along in 
 * the rain. I came to an electrical 
 supply store. Closing my umbrella I went 
 in. 
 
 Behind a mahogany desk, a small Rock of 
 Gibraltar on his ring finger, sat a young man 
 named Brite, holding a book. 
 
 "Have you yellow silk cord?" I inquired. 
 
 "Yep. Have seat. Clerk back in a 
 minute," answered Brite turning several pages 
 of his book. 
 
 After sitting still for five minutes I arose 
 and approached Brite again. 
 
 "Perhaps the clerk you spoke of has retired 
 from business. Will you summon another, 
 please?" 
 
 "What you want?" 
 
 "The same thing I wanted when I came in 
 yellow silk cord." 
 
 38
 
 EFFICIENCY 39 
 
 Flashing his ring Brite grabbed a desk 
 phone, taking care not to lose the place in his 
 book. 
 
 "Lo ello, sensumcordown." 
 
 I went back to my seat on a bench near the 
 window and picked up a catalogue. Absorb- 
 ing information relative to globes, brackets, 
 volts, discs, shades, bases, bulbs, drew me 
 on as far as page fifty-two. I was settling 
 down for a quiet afternoon of instructive 
 reading when the stenographer, who had been 
 out getting an ice cream soda with a friend, 
 returned. 
 
 "Say, ain't this a day? Nothin' but rain, 
 till your spirit's mildewed. This is the life! 
 Soggy outside, groggy inside and war in the 
 newspapers. Oh, anybody waiting on you?" 
 Her eye rested on me. 
 
 "I hesitate to say," I returned, "I aim 
 for accuracy in statements I give out. There 
 is no question as to the verb it is the prepo- 
 sition that bothers." 
 
 "Fresh dame!" sneered the steno with a 
 jerk that dislodged a cud of pineapple gum 
 from her back teeth and shook two invisible 
 pins out of her transformation.
 
 40 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 A door opened at the back of the room and 
 a grimy man appeared carrying a bundle of 
 bright green cord. 
 
 "Is this for you, ma'am?" he asked, ad- 
 vancing toward me. 
 
 "I think not, unless time produces a chemi- 
 cal change on yellow. Do you know whether 
 old age affects certain colors?" 
 
 "Been waiting as long as that?" The 
 grimy one's smile was sympathetic. 
 
 "Never mind going after more, I'll take 
 this," said I. "Will you kindly attach a 
 plug?" I continued, advancing briskly on 
 Brite. 
 
 Brite laid down his book, rummaged in his 
 desk and finally attempted a mule power 
 screw with a flea power pocket knife. The 
 grimy person appeared again bringing a roll 
 of yellow cord and took the plug from Brite. 
 I stepped over and glanced at the book Brite 
 had been reading. It was a work on efficiency. 
 
 "Do you enjoy that book?" I asked with 
 a queer note in my voice. 
 
 "Yep, but hanged if I can see how to apply 
 it. Know anything about the book? How 
 can a fellow incorporate it into his system?"
 
 EFFICIENCY 41 
 
 "As to your first question, yes," I replied 
 dreamily. "I know a little about the book. 
 I wrote it. As to the second if you will 
 take it home, have your mother grind it three 
 times in a meat chopper, add a little flour, 
 pinch of salt, fry in deep fat and eat while 
 hot, I think you can incorporate a little of it 
 into your system. That is the only way I 
 can think of at this time. Good afternoon."
 
 JOTTING THE SEVENTH 
 
 EXPENSIVE GARDENING 
 
 TJELEN, Avis and I sat in the conserva- 
 ^"^ tory. We talked about the way our 
 new gowns were to be made and then we 
 discussed the war. 
 
 "Of course, we must do our bit," Avis 
 impressed upon Helen. Father looked up 
 from his stock report. 
 
 "I shall be a street car conductor," Helen 
 shouted with glee, "I'll wear yards of braid 
 and cards of buttons and slam doors and 
 order people about and I'll give all the 
 salary I earn to the poor." 
 
 "Oh, no, that wouldn't be ladylike. Let's 
 farm. May we, father? May we use the 
 lawn?" 
 
 "Why, of course, my dears. Get what 
 you need and go ahead." 
 
 "Just think, father," beamed Avis, "we 
 can raise enough vegetables to supply us 
 
 42
 
 EXPENSIVE GARDENING 43 
 
 all summer, and maybe put some up for next 
 winter, and I shouldn't wonder if we could 
 supply Uncle Henry's family, too, besides 
 giving a great deal away." 
 
 "And it won't cost you a cent to feed us, 
 father," supplemented Helen, "so that most 
 of the money you get you can devote to some 
 noble cause." 
 
 They hired two men at 35 cents an hour, 
 who proceeded to demolish three flower beds 
 and hack up a $100 stretch of sod. They 
 bought $3.00 worth of magazines and spent 
 hours and hours clipping seed advertisements 
 from the pages. It cost them #1.00 for 
 stamps to get catalogues. They bought four 
 loads of soil, at $6.00 a load, and three bags 
 of fertilizer, at $3.75 a bag. Again two men 
 were hired at 35 cents an hour to apply same 
 to earth's surface. Never having applied 
 anything to anything before they made mis- 
 takes, so two other men had to be hired the 
 following day to undo the work of the first 
 two. 
 
 The girls talked incessantly of loam and 
 subsoil. Gleason, the chauffeur, was pressed 
 into service and conveyed the girls, and two
 
 44 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 wash tubs, down to the beach, where sand 
 was collected which was to be sprinkled in 
 with the loam to obtain better drainage. 
 
 Unwittingly, two dead fish were collected 
 along with the sand and somehow they 
 worked themselves onto the side of one of the 
 tubs, from whence they imparted a search- 
 ing aroma to the gray covered seats in the 
 limousine. It cost father $50.00 to have 
 the cushions brought back to their original 
 state of unobtrusiveness. An afternoon was 
 spent at a hardware store buying implements. 
 Avis asked the clerk to pick out only the 
 pretty red things and to have their mono- 
 grams marked on all the handles. 
 
 "Say, our guy's got a load on the wagon 
 a'ready for out that way," the clerk told the 
 boss, so the girls' order was delivered in an 
 extra wagon. 
 
 Digging and planting in skirts was out of 
 the question. The girls sought the tailor. 
 He said of course he could fashion two charm- 
 ing pairs of trousers from the newest spring 
 weaves and hadn't the young ladies better 
 have coats to match, as he understood the 
 best gardening was done in the cool of the
 
 EXPENSIVE GARDENING 45 
 
 early morning and in the chill of twilight, 
 and the dear young ladies would be of much 
 greater benefit to their country if they 
 avoided pneumonia. The suits were $65.00 
 each. 
 
 Anticipating interrupted hours of bright 
 daylight and crops of freckles the girls bought 
 two large jars of Madam Haha's bleaching 
 cream, at $5.50 a jar. Avis arranged for a 
 $25.00 course of massage to straighten out 
 the kinks in her muscles, and Helen's bill 
 at the department store waxed treble its 
 usual amount by reason of gardening hats, 
 blouses, veils, gloves, mats to kneel on and 
 so forth. 
 
 What? Oh, yes, they planted several rows 
 of seeds, my dear, and then went to bed for a 
 week to recover from shock, induced by a 
 heavy mail of bills, colds in the head, and 
 stiff backs. 
 
 "Fm glad father is a smart man and knows 
 how to get money," sighed Avis. "Perhaps 
 it would be best to let him get the vegetables 
 in the usual way. I guess we won't try to 
 help the country any more by farming. 
 Economizing is too expensive."
 
 JOTTING THE EIGHTH 
 
 FROM BUN TO BUN 
 
 T MET a man to-day. A thinnish, baldish, 
 * richish man. He told me his life's history 
 in thirty minutes. It was a gastronomic 
 equation. 
 
 One day in the year 1910, he looked up and 
 down Wall Street. His pockets harbored 
 an old steel-handled penknife, a check book 
 without a balance and 10 cents. His stomach 
 harbored nothing. All about him men were 
 hurrying along to lunch, cash in their pockets. 
 He followed from force of habit. 
 
 He entered an eat shop. He snatched a 
 menu card from between the tabasco and the 
 sugar bowl and read it feverishly. 
 
 "What'll it be, sir?" prompted the waiter, 
 "little lamb, p'rhaps; very fine, sir; with 
 peas, sir." 
 
 "No, don't care for the flavor of lamb. 
 (Oh, for one chew, but it's marked 80 cents.) "
 
 FROM BUN TO BUN 47 
 
 "Well, the ragout is special to-day, sir, and 
 includes mashed potatoes, beets buttered " 
 
 "Stop! Who is it says meat makes us 
 barbarians, brings crime, war, pestilence? 
 (There is nothing I wouldn't do for a T bone!)" 
 
 "Maybe you'll favor the egg dishes then. 
 There's herb omelet, or a little souffle. The 
 fish is good also to-day, sir, and the sauce a 
 delight." 
 
 "See here, waiter, I am not going to insult 
 my esophagus with messes. I came in here 
 to eat to sustain life, that's all. This frilly 
 stuff doesn't appeal. You may bring me a 
 bran bun (at last, Bran Bun, #.io; thank 
 heaven there's a price on this card I can nego- 
 tiate but food, food, how I want you!)" 
 
 While the bran bun was going down and 
 the waiter's nose was going up, the stranded 
 broker was thinking. And right there, in 
 that restaurant, goaded on by the aroma of 
 forbidden viands, a wonderful scheme was 
 born in his brain. 
 
 He went back to the Street, borrowed a 
 ladder and proceeded to climb up the Wall. 
 It took him six years going up, and that 
 brings it to the year 1917.
 
 48 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 He looked down at the Street from his 
 mahogany chair, while his $10.00 shod feet 
 rested upon a rich oriental rug, its crimsons 
 and golds blended to the tune of #1,000. 
 His private secretary had gone out to lunch. 
 The fellow was, no doubt, actually eating. 
 
 Well, he had eaten too! That one year 
 when he had made the acquaintance of all 
 the real chefs on this side and the other 
 that was the year! He had wined and 
 dined and called on his doctor. And the 
 old rascal had told him, "too much food, 
 man. Eat less. Perhaps you can keep on 
 spending and living, but you can never keep 
 on at this eating." 
 
 Then he had laughed, left the doctor and 
 ordered six courses. The next year he laughed 
 and continued to order. Then he just grinned. 
 Then he smiled. Then he quit eating. 
 
 Heigh-ho, everybody was hurrying off to 
 lunch. He adjusted his hat and stepped 
 round to the club. 
 
 "What'll it be, sir?" prompted the waiter, 
 "little lamb, p'raps; very fine, sir, with peas, 
 sir." 
 
 "No, don't care for the flavor of lamb.
 
 FROM BUN TO BUN 49 
 
 (I could eat wool! Plague take this 
 dyspepsia)." 
 
 "The ragout is special to-day, sir; includes 
 mashed potatoes, beets buttered " 
 
 "Stop! I'll read it myself." 
 
 "Yes, sir; certainly, sir. (Queer old bird. 
 I wonder is he stingy or what.) " 
 
 "See here, waiter, I am not going to insult 
 my esophagus with messes. I came in here 
 to obtain a little something to sustain life. 
 You may bring me ah well, say a bun 
 made of bran."
 
 JOTTING THE NINTH 
 
 THE MONEY KING 
 
 "TTADSOM RISE, the multi-millionaire, 
 ^"^ is in the hospital with a sprained ankle. 
 Can't dodge us. Get a story quick," warbled 
 the city editor; "get him going on stocks 
 and bonds. Find out how he earned his 
 first $ and how he $pent the la$t one. Bring 
 back an interview bristling with $$>$ and 
 $ene and be quick!" 
 
 I leaped for the hospital with a confused 
 sense of setting out to hit a man when he 
 was down. A coldly critical being met me 
 at the door. All life being reduced to a 
 science for her, she neglected to admire my 
 new fall hat or perceive my baby wonder 
 wrist watch, but perceived instead that I 
 was 10 pounds overweight. 
 
 "Try cutting down on beans, corn and 
 cake," she said, "live on lettuce, radishes, 
 dry toast and so forth." 
 
 50
 
 THE MONEY KING 51 
 
 Doubtless it was purely a humanitarian 
 impulse that prompted her to lead me up 
 and down corridors for fifteen minutes. 
 Maybe, while I was still fresh from the dear 
 meal eating outside, she was taking an initial 
 whack at a new theory that involved miles 
 of white tile, one stout person and imperti- 
 nent verbal suggestions. 
 
 After the first quarter mile she dropped into 
 a monotonous trot, a pace or two ahead, so 
 I got out a bar of chocolate and nibbled on 
 it and brushed up on my nine times nine 
 preparatory to a prize interview with the 
 great financial king. 
 
 "Well, my sore ankle is the reporter's 
 opportunity. You get me cornered at last," 
 grinned Rise; "come on with your ques- 
 tion." 
 
 This was luck! I could ask anything I 
 chose and get an answer. 
 
 "I'd like to know the real inside facts 
 about that deal in " 
 
 Something smote my foot. "Just step 
 out the way, please, lady. I got to wash 
 the floor." 
 
 I gave way to calico clad authority and a 
 dripping rag.
 
 52 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 "Do you think Wall Street will be 
 affected - 
 
 "You maybe will take this chair, please, 
 lady," interrupted the scrubwoman. 
 
 She set a chair for me on the far side of 
 the room and proceeded to install herself, 
 her rags, her rattly tin pail and her ss-zz-ss- 
 zezing scrubbing brush between me and the 
 millionaire. 
 
 It was rather hard to shout leading ques- 
 tions under the circumstances. Rise bridged 
 the interval by telling me how much his foot 
 hurt and what kind of salve the doctor was 
 using. The scrubwoman went round and 
 round, slopping water, banging chairs, mov- 
 ing tables and driving me before her like an 
 uncertain leaf in a flood. The conversation 
 became trivial. It ceased. The scrub- 
 woman transcended her rightful sphere and 
 even went so far as to rise from the floor and 
 rattle bottles about on a glass table. Then 
 a young nurse bustled in. 
 
 "It's time for your eleven o'clock nourish- 
 ment," she said, smiling at Rise. 
 
 "Good-bye," said he to me. 
 
 My notebook was empty. Back at the
 
 THE MONEY KING 53 
 
 office they were saving space for me and lots 
 of it. The scrubwoman opened the door 
 of the money king's room, came out and 
 waddled toward me down the hall. 
 
 "See here, why did you have to scrub that 
 floor when I was calling on that gentleman? 
 Don't you know better than to interrupt 
 conversation? I shall report you." 
 
 "So o . They treat the gentleman's 
 feet, but I tink the trouble iss in t'head. 
 I worked five years in dis place and never 
 see a bug but dis gentleman he say to me, 
 'Mrs. Blumenthal, dere is one kind of bugs 
 I don't have no use for. They call 'em 
 interviewers. Now, if I see any comin' I'll 
 ring the bell and you come in and scrub 
 everything in the room.' Yah, huh, I was 
 scrubbing in there five times already this 
 morning and he gives me, every time, a 
 dollar!"
 
 JOTTING THE TENTH 
 
 LINE'S BUSY 
 
 A SMALL, roily-poly typist, brimful of 
 ^^ cheer had lured me into a busy office. 
 I was leaning over a corner of her desk, 
 conversing on her employer's time, when 
 masculine voices smote my eager tympanum. 
 
 "Will you kindly pay" this little bill, sir?" 
 cooed an apologetic young man who had been 
 sent to the broker's office by the Wewashum 
 Laundry Co. 
 
 "What bill? How much?" snapped the 
 broker. 
 
 "Eighteen cents. Past due four months. 
 Two collars and one shirt laundered." 
 
 "I have no recollection of receiving any 
 package from your company." Reaching for 
 the telephone receiver he called the laundry. 
 "Now about that shirt. What? Oh! Silk? 
 Of course I remember my own shirt! No, 
 I never received it." 
 
 54
 
 LINE'S BUSY 55 
 
 He replaced the telephone and glared at 
 the bill collector. 
 
 "Eighteen cents, sir. A small matter, 
 but - 
 
 "Small matter," roared the broker, "I 
 do not call a green and gray striped silk shirt, 
 with black dots, price $15, a small matter. 
 Now you go back to your company and tell 
 them that unless they produce that shirt, 
 before five o'clock to-night, I'll sue 'em. It's 
 an outrage! What's this country coming 
 to? We have to pay ten prices for clothes 
 and then pay somebody to tear 'em, lose 'em, 
 steal 'em. Talk about graft and gains ! Now, 
 I can't run other people's business, but I 
 can run my own and I'm going to begin on 
 your laundry and my shirt. Understand? 
 Going to make an example of 'em. Gimme 
 the district attorney's number, Miss An- 
 drews. Tell George to get a detective agency 
 on the wire." 
 
 During the next four hours all three of 
 the office 'phones were busy with the affair 
 of the shirt. The broker called up the fol- 
 lowing persons and places: 
 
 The District Attorney.
 
 56 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 The Chief of Police. 
 
 Judge of the Police Court. 
 
 Laundry Company (5 times). 
 
 Four Friends. 
 
 Driver of the Laundry Wagon. 
 
 Detective Agency (6 times). 
 
 Another Detective Agency. 
 
 Natatorium (to be sure shirt was not in the 
 locker). 
 
 Gymnasium (same reason). 
 
 Hotel (to cancel luncheon engagement). 
 
 Business went to the dogs, nobody on the 
 outside could reach the broker or his clerks 
 on the inside, and the wires buzzed and 
 hummed. Buyers were inconvenienced while 
 the broker continued to call numbers in his 
 frenzied search for his shirt. 
 
 Three o'clock in the afternoon saw a motley 
 collection of visitors grouped about the office. 
 There was the owner of the laundry, a lawyer, 
 two detectives, and the driver, and in the 
 center the broker strode back and forth, 
 red-faced and vociferous. 
 
 Then the door from the hall was pushed 
 gently open and a sweet-faced little woman 
 appeared.
 
 LINE'S BUSY 57 
 
 "I've been so worried all day about you, 
 Henry. The telephone company kept telling 
 me the line was busy, and I felt sure something 
 was wrong." 
 
 "Everything's wrong. Somebody's stolen 
 my property. Remember that lovely gray 
 silk shirt I had green stripes black 
 dots?" 
 
 "Why, yes, dear; perfectly." 
 
 "Gone!" cried the broker, hollow-eyed. 
 "We're combing the city with a fine-tooth 
 comb. I shall spare no expense. Matter 
 of principle. Owe it to my fellow-citizens. 
 Must have protection. Nobody can wear 
 my shirts to cheap balls and go unpunished." 
 
 "Gray and green," murmured the wife, 
 
 "black dots " She walked swiftly toward 
 
 her husband. She tugged at the top button 
 of his vest in that officious way wives have. 
 She fished under his cravat. She looked up. 
 
 "You have it on, dear," she said.
 
 JOTTING THE ELEVENTH 
 
 NO EXCUSE 
 
 MR. AND MRS. BEN DYER were in 
 the midst of that momentous under- 
 taking called "building." Ben Dyer, you 
 see, had taken a flyer in wheat and the con- 
 sequent bulging of spirit and purse were 
 causing many excrescences to bloom in the 
 daily life of the pair. 
 
 The carpenters had put the opaque panes 
 of glass, that should have gone into the bath- 
 room, into the butler's pantry, had contrived 
 to wedge every window so it wouldn't open, 
 and coming back after forgotten tools had 
 walked all over the fresh varnish on the 
 floors, so everything might be said to be 
 progressing as usual in such cases. The 
 plumbers had also finished and it was the 
 duty of Ben to go over to the new dwelling 
 each night and shake the furnace. 
 
 He departed Saturday night as usual, at 
 
 58
 
 NO EXCUSE 59 
 
 seven o'clock. He had not returned at nine. 
 Nor at nine-thirty. Nor at ten. Nor at ten- 
 fifteen. At ten- twenty Mrs. Dyer called up 
 the police. A voice boomed back at her over 
 the wire. 
 
 "This is 802 Hogarth Avenue speaking," 
 gasped Mrs. Dyer; "my husband is lost!" 
 
 "How many days ago did he disappear, 
 madam?" 
 
 "Why why he didn't disappear, ex- 
 actly, that is he opened the front door to-night 
 right after supper and went down the steps 
 swinging his cane as usual." 
 
 "Well, now don't be alarmed, lady. It's 
 early. He probably went to a club meeting." 
 
 "No, my husband doesn't have time for 
 meetings. He has a great deal on his mind 
 at present. He is a man of affairs and may 
 have enemies. Oh!" shrilled Mrs. Dyer, 
 "I wish you would send somebody out to look 
 for him. What? How dare you say such a 
 thing! He's not that kind of a man at all. 
 Why, we don't even play bridge. I hello 
 hello. Oh, horrid thing, he's gone too." 
 
 At eleven-thirty Mrs. Dyer called the 
 police station for the sixth time.
 
 60 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 "It is all because of his terrible greed for 
 money I know it is!" she wailed; "he's 
 been speculating heavily just so we could 
 build a house better than any of our friends 
 have, and now somebody has gone and 
 strangled him." 
 
 At midnight Mrs. Dyer wrapped up the 
 baby, woke up the servant and demanded 
 that the cold-blooded person at headquarters 
 send up the patrol. 
 
 "We'd better go to the new house first," 
 she sobbed, as she and the maid clambered 
 into the wagon and a fat policeman reached 
 for the baby. "Perhaps there's a clue over 
 there. He goes there for a few minutes 
 every night to attend to the furnace." 
 
 There was a clue there. The cellar windows 
 were a blaze of light and a frenzied clatter 
 and bang issued into the night. 
 
 "That ain't no murder," muttered the 
 biggest policeman, "it's too thundering noisy." 
 
 Mr. Dyer, collarless, coatless, a black 
 smudge running from eyebrow to lip, looked 
 up to confront six grinning policemen, a tear- 
 stained wife, an open-mouthed servant and 
 his sleeping infant, its cap on hind side before.
 
 NO EXCUSE 61 
 
 "Goodness, Mary!" 
 
 "Don't say a word, Ben Dyer, you've 
 scared me to death. If you weren't a horrid 
 broker and didn't make so much money, we 
 wouldn't have to spend it, and you could 
 stay home at night and not go out and get 
 strangled." 
 
 "Why, Mary, now let me explain. A big 
 pipe had burst. I've been all the evening 
 mending it." 
 
 "Well, why didn't you order good pipes 
 put in in the first place. It seems to me 
 while you are making money you might as 
 well make enough to pay for the best brand 
 of everything. That's no excuse!"
 
 JOTTING THE TWELFTH 
 
 MONDAY MORNING MOPES 
 
 Fwas Monday morning. I opened the 
 doctor's office door and peered in cau- 
 tiously. The advent of my inquiring eye 
 in the aperature was met with a roar from 
 the doctor. 
 
 "No, I don't want a ticket for some per- 
 fectly worthless production, nor a quart of 
 the latest dope, nor a chance on a set of 
 doilies, and I won't buy a box of matches, 
 or books on Darkest Africa, and a brick of 
 codfish is out of the question." 
 
 "There, there, Doc," I said soothingly as 
 I advanced into the office. "I just called 
 around to get your views on the charity 
 wo " 
 
 "Charity!" yelled the doctor. "Don't 
 utter it. I have spent most of my life doing 
 charity work, up night and day, summer 
 and winter. I am smothered with orphan 
 
 62
 
 MONDAY MORNING MOPES 63 
 
 asylums, clinics and free hospitals and my 
 automobile is a wreck from speeding to help 
 the poor. And on top of all this a perfectly 
 sane looking woman sat here this morning 
 and begged me to give her twenty dollars 
 for a drinking fountain. Said I never did 
 anything for charity Don't speak! Pm 
 through with the whole business. No more 
 for me. You may put me down as totally 
 unapproachable, strike me off the list." 
 
 Just here the telephone chipped in. 
 
 "Well, well, hello!" called the doctor 
 stormily. "Over on Archer Avenue you say? 
 Parents killed ?" His voice grew soft. "Poor 
 little mites. I'll be right over. Take 'em 
 home with me till things are fixed up. What's 
 that? That fellow out of a job that I looked 
 over last week ? Well, tell him to come along 
 back if he's having trouble, it won't cost 
 him a cent." 
 
 A supercilious smile flitted across my face. 
 "Thought you said " I began. 
 
 "I said, young woman," the doctor replied, 
 "that it is a blessed privilege to help one's 
 fellow beings. Going toward town ? I'll take 
 you down."
 
 JOTTING THE THIRTEENTH 
 
 MUSIC IN THE PARK 
 
 T WENT to an open air concert to-night. 
 * The open air part was a great success. 
 It was just as advertised. There was plenty 
 of it and it was distributed with equal fair- 
 ness to all. B row was as advantageous as 
 G, and nobody in Z could say that he missed 
 one note of the whistling wind as it whistled 
 along at forty miles an hour. It was as easy 
 to eat peanuts in one seat as another and 
 let the open air waft the shells all over the 
 place. 
 
 I strolled around and selected a bench 
 near the bandstand, but instead of hearing 
 the music this is what I heard. First, an 
 adagio movement by the police. A faint 
 chirping was audible, like sparrows at 
 dawn, which waxed louder, fuller, cul- 
 minating in an insistent trill as traffic grew 
 thicker. 
 
 64
 
 MUSIC IN THE PARK 65 
 
 Then came an allegro passage. A throaty 
 blast smote the evening calm. 
 
 A series of staccato honks, commencing 
 in a flute-like pianissimo, ascended in a 
 marvelously executed crescendo, that burst 
 into a rich volume of tone as the charge of 
 the white piqued was carried forward in the 
 latest 1918*8. 
 
 This was taken up by pedestrians, the 
 theme being repeated in a succession of 
 shuffling sounds, sizes 4, 5 and 3, buttoned, 
 being taken up by the laces, 7, 8 and 10, and 
 carried to a deafening climax. 
 
 Following this came a sextet of particular 
 brilliancy. 
 
 "Caught a pickerel six pounds." 
 
 "No, I never put onions in lamb stew." 
 
 "Say, Mame, ain't the mosquitoes fierce 
 in this park?" 
 
 "And have $25,000 when I'm 45." 
 
 "Hello, girlie, like a little expert aid holding 
 down this bench?" 
 
 "Gee, I call him a simp!" 
 
 After this arose a minor solo. 
 
 "Ma, ain't there a ham sandwich left?" 
 
 "No, t'here ain't. You've et enough anny- 
 how."
 
 66 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 "Ma, kin I get a ice cream cone?" 
 "No, leave off teasing me now and listen 
 to the music." 
 
 "I don't hear no music, ma. Where is it?"
 
 JOTTING THE FOURTEENTH 
 
 OUT OF AN OUTING 
 
 A YOUNG physician settled himself in 
 ^^ his chair, next to mine, at the theatre. 
 "Great to have a night off," said he to me. 
 
 The orchestra played a dreamy Hawaiian 
 chant and just as the doctor drifted off into 
 a far country where insistent telephone rings 
 were blended into songs of happy birds, a 
 man stepped out toward the footlights. 
 
 A portentous silence ensued. 
 
 With an apologetic expression he announced 
 that Dr. So and So was wanted at the box 
 office. It was Dr. So and So who sat next 
 to me. 
 
 He was a very young doctor and on his 
 way up the aisle his sense of duty to all 
 mankind hurried him along. 
 
 "Man left this name and said there had 
 been a terrible accident. Wanted you to 
 hurry right out," said the ticket seller. 
 
 67
 
 68 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 "Way out in the suburbs, too," murmured 
 the doctor as he bounded off. Arriving at 
 the given number the door was opened by a 
 man who was shaking with excitement. 
 
 "Where is the man that sent for the doc- 
 tor? " 
 
 "Im," replied the man. "I got a trouble, 
 doctor. You took care from my friend once 
 so I send for you. Lizzie, my wife, she 
 complains always I don't take her nowheres. 
 Such a woman for talk she is! Well, to-day 
 I can't stand it no longer so I sez 'Lizzie, I 
 meet you down town to-night and we go 
 to a dairy lunch and I buy you some pork and 
 beans you didn't cook in your own kitchen, 
 ain't?' Well, six o'clock comes and I forget 
 to go to meet Lizzie. I get home and there 
 ain't no Lizzie. So I remember Lizzie she 
 gets awful mad when she's got to wait and 
 I drive like somebody, I got a new four 
 passenger, and what you s'pose, Doc? I 
 get arrested! There's Lizzie waiting for the 
 beans and me on the way to the station! 
 I told the cop I was hurrying on account of 
 my wife was sick. He says, 'Who's your 
 doctor?' and I sez you are.
 
 OUT OF AN OUTING 69 
 
 "Now, Doc, it's going to cost me $25 if you 
 
 don't help me out." 
 
 "Have you taken your wife out to dinner 
 
 this year?" 
 "No, I ain't." 
 
 "Did you take her out last year?" 
 "No, she cooks pretty good herself." 
 "Well, you go down and pay your $25 and 
 
 consider it's what you ought to have spent 
 
 on Lizzie. Good-night."
 
 JOTTING THE FIFTEENTH 
 MOVIES 
 
 , dearie," a voice sang over my 
 telephone, "my club is taking up the 
 question of movies and their effect on children. 
 We want some of the houses to put on special 
 Friday and Saturday programs. Would you 
 mind stepping around to a few of the mana- 
 ger's offices to get their opinions. 
 
 "Glad to," returned I. 
 
 Stepping around to a few offices I was 
 glad she hadn't asked me to step down to 
 Atlanta, Ga., or ring up somebody in London 
 or fit a pair of shoes on a ten-year-old boy 
 in Mars. 
 
 But, pshaw, one thinks of dismal things 
 so easily. The well poised mind dwells only 
 on the bright side. I approached the bright 
 side of a picture house. After proving that 
 I didn't want a job chopping tickets, or 
 washing tile and positively had nothing 
 
 70
 
 MOVIES 71 
 
 to sell I was let up and sat down in an outer 
 office. 
 
 I heard a shrill short order voice and glasses 
 clinking. I saw clouds of cigarette smoke 
 drifting about. The manager came out. 
 
 "Glad to meet you," he said to me and 
 to himself "what in time did she bust in 
 here for?" And then aloud, "Sorry, can't 
 talk this morning. Pm a sick man. Doctor 
 has ordered me to inhale deeply and exercise 
 my arms. Come around again in three or 
 four weeks." 
 
 "Right," said I, and at parting, "keep it 
 up, you'll find it awfully strengthening." 
 
 "What's that?" asked the manager. 
 
 "Cigarette smoke," I called from the stair- 
 way. 
 
 "They are throwing some horrible things 
 on the screen at your theatre to-day," I 
 blurted out at the next stop to the society 
 matron manageress, "and the seats are two- 
 thirds full of children. The club women 
 of the United States are taking up the ques- 
 tion of murder, suicide and robbery views. 
 These things are not fit for the eyes of 
 children."
 
 72 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 "Nonsense! You are taking a simple 
 matter too seriously. These things broaden 
 our little folks. Excuse me a moment." 
 She disappeared to answer the telephone. 
 
 In the interval I coaxed golden curled baby 
 Margaret onto my knee. We talked about 
 birds, and kewpies and brown puppy dogs. 
 
 "What did you and baby find to talk about 
 while I was gone?" beamed the manageress 
 a few minutes later. 
 
 "I told her about the Remey divorce 
 scandal. That lurid one, you know the 
 butler shot his mistress and the valet poisoned 
 himself" 
 
 "You wicked woman " screamed the 
 horrified manageress. 
 
 "I thought it might be broadening," I mur- 
 mured as I melted away into the outer air. 
 
 At the next stop I learned that the manager 
 was out getting a shave, so I squeezed my 
 way into a dim interior and rested a tired 
 Psyche knot on a convenient pillar. I won- 
 dered why managers send wizened boys 
 cityward to buy case after case of half-clad 
 vampires when their audiences are composed 
 of high school students.
 
 MOVIES 73 
 
 Why they show thieves, immoral persons of 
 all varieties, five-minute kisses and gambling 
 dens when their audiences are full of children. 
 
 Why they insist upon our watching, con- 
 niving, assisting at the murders of young 
 women, old men, bank cashiers, rich widows 
 and hermits. 
 
 I prefer to read my murders in the 
 newspapers where they are delicately and 
 artistically surrounded by recipes for dough- 
 nuts, without dough, and corn cures illustrated 
 in home-like fashion, presenting persons with 
 no apparel below the knee cap distorting 
 themselves in foot tubs. 
 
 If the murder is not to my taste I can 
 turn to the "houses for sale" column and get 
 my mind off the thing by speculating as to 
 what might have happened had the murdered 
 man taken a course in engineering, thereby 
 raising his earning capacity from #100 a 
 month to $3,000. This would have enabled 
 him to buy his wife the charming house with 
 three porches, garage and flower beds, and 
 totally eliminated discouragement, pecking 
 and knife-sticking from her well thumbed 
 line of emotions.
 
 74 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 I never go down to a police station and 
 wait for a murder to break. 
 
 Or hang about parapets waiting for some- 
 one to push someone else over. 
 
 Or poke about in brewery backyards after 
 midnight, or get a seat in a bank near a safe, 
 or squeeze myself into the underworld, or 
 arrive jauntily at the brink of a deep, dark 
 murderously inclined cistern at the opportune 
 moment when ragged Jack puts his pal out. 
 
 If I purposely avoid all these deadly haunts 
 what business has a movie owner to drag me 
 thither? 
 
 I had paid to sit down in my new wistaria 
 gown on fragments of buttered popcorn. 
 There were cuds and wads of gum on the floor 
 that stuck to my satin slippers. Someone 
 behind me poured typhoons of garlic around 
 my head. The electric fan blew twenty- 
 seven kinds of perfume into my nostrils each 
 distinctly incompatible with the other. But 
 perhaps all this debasement of matter would 
 lead to an elevation of soul. Not so. A 
 screen person dashed across my vision with 
 a foot closely resembling the club used in 
 promoting warfare in the paleozoic age. He
 
 MOVIES 75 
 
 raised this hideous weapon and smote an 
 unoffending female screen person smack in 
 the jaw. It was ethereal art. It was the 
 acme of delicate, dreamy creation. 
 
 More screen persons appeared. They were 
 attired in the greasy, cast-off clothes of third- 
 rate mechanics, collected by enterprising rag 
 men at twenty cents a thousand. Each 
 screener swiped, banged, slugged, mutilated 
 and murdered every other screener. All the 
 boys in the audience sat on the edge of their 
 seats and whistled. All the men slapped 
 their knees and said, "Wife, that's the funniest 
 thing I've seen since Hector was a pup." The 
 girls produced a lilting giggle that ran up 
 to high C and drowned out the organist who 
 was wailingly telling us, in rag-time, about 
 the demise of the only rose left on the bush 
 last summer. 
 
 I went out. 
 
 The ticket chopper, who had been hanging 
 over the rear row of seats, thereby mutilating 
 the rules of the house, and whose eyes were 
 almost spilling off his face with joy, wrested 
 his gaze from the screen long enough to 
 demand to be told why I was leaving. I
 
 76 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 replied that I did not care for the picture. 
 He thought I lied. He was convinced that 
 I had cherry pie and iced coffee for supper 
 and that I was gripped by dyspepsia. 
 
 I went home and whistled the dog in from 
 the yard. I got down on the floor and 
 watched him gnaw bones. I began to come 
 up out of the depths of the degradation 
 engendered by the maudlin film. At last I 
 sat up and took notice. I saw that the dog 
 was neat, kindly and free from buffoonery. I 
 was in good company. My self-respect edged 
 gingerly back. 
 
 Presently I was entirely adjusted again 
 through the sane, correct deportment of my 
 bull terrier who is a gentleman.
 
 JOTTING THE SIXTEENTH 
 
 BEATING IT OFF THE BEAT 
 
 T LIKE policemen. They thrill me. 
 * Some people drink hot milk before re- 
 tiring which serves to put them in a comatose 
 condition from whence they slip over easily 
 into the land of nod and sleep through the 
 whole night. But I prefer to jog around the 
 block about 11.30 p. m., meet the policeman 
 on the beat and hear a thriller that keeps 
 me awake half the night. I like to go to bed 
 feeling that I m in a highly exciting world, 
 peopled with mysteriously interesting beings. 
 Nothing conveys this impression so quickly 
 and satisfactorily as a blue chestful of shining 
 buttons and a guttural voice that whispers, 
 "See, that dip passin' under the shadow of 
 that ellum? He's a bad one. Got both 
 peepers on him." 
 
 To-night Officer Mooney and I were loiter- 
 ing along just outside a carefully trimmed 
 
 77
 
 78 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 hedge. We glanced over the top of it, up a 
 flight of white stone steps and our gaze 
 came to rest, musingly, on a rose-tinted lamp 
 shade. 
 
 There were two figures moving about the 
 room near the lamp. One was the figure of 
 Aston Peters, a man well known on the 
 Street. The other figure was that of his 
 wife. They were engaged in a dispute. We 
 craned our necks over the hedge and listened 
 intently. 
 
 "It is perfectly horrible," wailed Mrs. 
 Peters, "you have been to that dreadful 
 club again and I detect a mixed drink on 
 your breath. What? Well, perhaps you 
 think you are sober. Perhaps you can walk 
 up and down the pattern in the rug and make 
 no mistakes. Perhaps you do feel your 
 usual self, but I know what drink does to 
 men!" 
 
 "Now now, my dear." 
 
 "Not a word. I won't listen. I've ordered 
 Jenkins to smash, spill or drink, all the liquor 
 in the house anything to get it out of your 
 way." 
 
 "Really, aren't you carrying this foolish-
 
 BEATING IT OFF THE BEAT 79 
 
 ness a little too far, my dear girl?" Ashton 
 advanced with pacific intentions and shook 
 his wife's arm with gentle persuasiveness. 
 
 "There you are becoming brutal al- 
 ready! Actually attacking me! If you lay 
 hands on me and shake me after one drink 
 what would you do after five?" Mrs. Peters 
 drew away from her husband and trembled. 
 "I believe after ten drinks you might murder 
 me!" 
 
 "If that is your opinion of me and I can't 
 procure a harmless beverage at my club or in 
 my home, I shall have to go elsewhere to 
 get it." 
 
 Mrs. Peters shrieked and cried. 
 
 Officer Mooney shifted to his left foot, 
 picked a twig from the hedge, stuck it between 
 his teeth and grinned complacently. 
 
 The imposing front door of Mr. Peters' 
 white stone dwelling opened and Mr. Peters, 
 carrying a black well-filled bag, descended 
 the steps. A limousine rolled to the curb 
 and stopped. 
 
 "Good evening, officer," called Mr. Peters 
 pleasantly. 
 
 "Aven', sor. Can I give you a bit of a lift
 
 8o BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 into the car wid yer baggage? Coin' away 
 fer a bit I see." 
 
 "Yes yes, for about thirty days. A 
 change sometimes clears the atmosphere." 
 
 Officer Mooney and I moved along to the 
 other end of his beat and spied around just 
 outside a tumbled down fence. We glanced 
 over the top of it, up a flight of rickety old 
 steps and our gaze came to rest, musingly, 
 on a kerosene lamp. There were two figures 
 moving about the room near the lamp. One 
 was the figure of Ashcan Pete, well known in 
 the streets and alleys, and the other figure 
 was that of his wife. They were quarreling. 
 We craned our necks over the fence and 
 listened intently. 
 
 "It's a holy shame, that's what it is ! You 
 been to that saloon again. I smell suds on 
 yer breat' Huh? Perhaps yer can eat wid- 
 out spillin', but it's me that knows the end 
 of a beginning." 
 
 "Cut it now," drawled Pete. 
 
 "Yes, I'll cut it. I'll smash it! I'll spill 
 it! I'll see you don't get no more outen that 
 pail." 
 
 "Leave it be I'm tellin' yer. Quit kiddin'
 
 BEATING IT OFF THE BEAT 81 
 
 yerself into a dictater's job. If I want my 
 beer who's to stop me?" Pete advanced 
 with pacific intentions and shook his wife's 
 arm with clumsy playfulness. "If I dassent 
 drink home I gotto go out." 
 
 "Leggo! Take them murderous hands off 
 me! 'Cause I try to save you from ruin you 
 beat me. Help! Murder! Police!" 
 
 Officer Mooney advanced by leaps. He 
 muttered and scowled. He dragged Ashcan 
 Pete down the old rickety steps. "Fine 
 mess you are to cause a row this beautiful 
 evenin'," he sneered. "You'll get a change 
 of scene, for about thirty days, you will, 
 old bird."
 
 JOTTING THE SEVENTEENTH 
 
 THE MAN AND HIS DOLLAR 
 
 T AST night I stayed with some friends, 
 -" the Albert Cases. At nine o'clock this 
 morning Albert Case folded his newspaper, 
 settled his tie and rose from the breakfast 
 table. 
 
 Mrs. Case also arose. She had prepared 
 the breakfast. She had attended to her 
 husband's every wish, trotting back and 
 forth with extra cream, more butter and a 
 third supply of cereal. 
 
 She spoke. 
 
 "I'd I'd I'd like a dollar, Albert." 
 
 "A dollar!" roared Albert. "Now what 
 on earth do you need a dollar for? I am 
 obliged to remind you again that this is war 
 time. You have the privilege of ordering 
 whatever is absolutely necessary from the 
 shops. I'm sure you already have every 
 comfort and convenience. There's the fine 
 
 82
 
 THE MAN AND HIS DOLLAR 83 
 
 new marble sink, a library full of books and 
 a new hose for the garden why, there are 
 hundreds of dollars worth of things all over 
 the place. You have plenty to keep you 
 busy as a bee. Why should you go out and 
 spend a dollar? Don't you know that every 
 dollar spent is a drag on the nation?" 
 
 "I I thought I would go down to see 
 mother and I need a little carfare." 
 
 "Can't you walk? I notice you are gaining 
 flesh. Or why not telephone your mother? 
 The telephone is an expense and here you 
 are simply disregarding it entirely. Right 
 on top of my paying the bill for last month 
 you ask for a dollar and prepare to waste, 
 absolutely waste, the telephone service. I 
 insist upon getting full value for every dollar 
 I spend. I don't fritter away money riding 
 idly back and forth on the street cars. The 
 government says it's up to you women to 
 help win this war, so just be sensible now 
 and stay home to-day. You can put up 
 some vegetables for winter use and write 
 out some economical menus. I'll keep that 
 dollar and put it to some really good use." 
 
 Case went to the city. The dollar clanked
 
 84 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 up and down in his pocket, against a company 
 of nickels and dimes, and beat an accompani- 
 ment to the warm feeling of pleasure induced 
 by having his way. 
 
 The noon hour came. Case had a deal 
 on so he invited a man out to lunch. They 
 got to talking about war and economy. 
 They said economy should begin at home. 
 
 "Yep, that's where the root of the matter 
 lies," argued Case. "Too much waste in 
 our homes. Wives insist upon having ferns 
 on the table. They think meals are in- 
 complete without silly, frilly salads. They 
 waste money on pastry and pickles. Now 
 what woman would be content with steak, 
 mushrooms, vegetables, bread and butter, 
 and coffee? We've got to train our wives. 
 Only this morning mine asked me for money 
 to spend on pure nonsense. But I showed 
 her the folly of such conduct." 
 
 Case slapped the dollar in his pocket with 
 great satisfaction. 
 
 The waiter presented his check. A gift 
 of equal amount would have filled the heart 
 of a housewife with joy. It was sufficient 
 to cover a three days' supply of coffee, 
 eggs, butter, vegetables and so forth.
 
 THE MAN AND HIS DOLLAR 85 
 
 Case got out his black leather wallet and 
 ran over his stock of bills. 
 
 "Nice little luncheon," murmured he to 
 himself, "good waiter, too. He remembered 
 my idiosyncrasy for draughts. Very thought- 
 ful of him to close the windows. Probably 
 appreciate an extra tip." 
 
 Back on Carrington Avenue, at this iden- 
 tical moment, trudged Mrs. Case on her 
 way to her mother's. She was buoyed up 
 by the thought of her dollar sacrifice to the 
 nation's well being. It was right that Albert 
 should keep all the funds. He would know 
 just what to do with that dollar. 
 
 He did. He put it under his luncheon 
 check as a tip for the waiter.
 
 JOTTING THE EIGHTEENTH 
 
 A NEGATIVE PURCHASE 
 
 day last week somebody paid me 
 some money. Suddenly my nice, com- 
 fortable, three-season-old furs appeared to 
 me like the frayed outsides of a deceased 
 cat a mangy, anaemic, bed-ridden cat that 
 had never paid much attention to its appear- 
 ance from the beginning and was probably 
 assisted out of the world by a vigilant health 
 department. 
 
 With such thoughts as these, and with 
 MONEY bulging out of my purse, I strayed 
 to a shop where furs were for sale. Ordin- 
 arily I had hustled by the place war time* 
 economy, must save to help the nation and 
 all that, well, you know the line of argument 
 you use to dampen your ardor when you 
 see something you want and can't possibly 
 pay for. But with a wad of bills in my 
 clutch somehow everything looked different. 
 
 86
 
 A NEGATIVE PURCHASE 87 
 
 People seemed happy. The war news was 
 far less depressing. I even thought of buying 
 a theatre ticket. 
 
 I went up brazenly to the fur shop window 
 and gazed boldly at the contents within. 
 My word! How ratty my old furs did look! 
 
 I entered the fur shop determined on 
 exchanging the bulge in my purse for new 
 furs. Evidently the manager had stepped 
 out for a shave, or to procure an egg phos- 
 phate, at any rate the clerks were not ex- 
 pecting company. After poking about among 
 ermine, sable and lynx garments of various 
 shapes for quite a long time, I discovered 
 one clerk doing up her back hair behind 
 a screen. Two other young ladies were 
 eating cream puffs in a secluded nook. All 
 the sugar that hadn't found its way into 
 their pink mouths was etched in delicate 
 fringes on their pink faces. Eating cream 
 puffs is an empyreal pastime. It lifts one 
 above sordid things into the realm of fancy. 
 I adore glimpses of the young engaged in 
 soul-satisfying pursuits. These little clerks 
 were not in a mood for barter and sale. I 
 could not expect it of them!
 
 88 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 Ah, at the far end of the room was a group 
 of three more young persons leaning lan- 
 guidly against a counter in the act of wresting 
 a living from a stingy world. I approached 
 them. 
 
 "I want to purchase some furs," I said. 
 
 "What kind do you want? say, 
 Rose, what do you think he's blonde!" 
 
 "Perhaps if you will show me the different 
 kinds I can make a selection." 
 
 "Most of our stock's up in the work-room 
 yet it will seem awfully strange going to a 
 dance with a fellow I have never even seen!" 
 
 "I'll try on that black scarf in the corner, 
 please." 
 
 "That's not exactly your style, madam. 
 The one you have on is more the shape you 
 should wear I'll tell you just how it was, 
 Rose. Brother Frank met him " and so 
 on and so on. 
 
 The inattentive clerk had discrimination. 
 I should have to credit her with that. I had 
 always known the cut of my furs was excellent. 
 
 "Yes, my furs were very good once. They 
 are somewhat shabby now about the neck, 
 for instance."
 
 A NEGATIVE PURCHASE 89 
 
 "Oh, that is nothing! People are using 
 white insets and collars this season to remedy 
 that and so brother Frank told him that 
 I" 
 
 "And the lining of my muff is gone, posi- 
 tively gone," I pleaded. 
 
 "You can reline that easily yourself at 
 home. Just examine some of the muffs on 
 the counter and see how it's done and he 
 told him I was a beautiful dancer " 
 
 Was the clerk so much in love with her 
 country that she was endeavoring to help me 
 save money, or was she so much in love with 
 a blonde man that she hadn't the inclina- 
 tion to help me spend it. I didn't know. 
 But I did know that she had cast some 
 pretty good suggestions in my direction. 
 I stood in the fur shop and mentally made 
 over my old muff and scarf. I put an ermine 
 band in the neck of the scarf, attached a 
 cord and silver ring to the muff and re- 
 furbished its interior with pearl gray satin. 
 The outfit looked very nice. For an even- 
 ing's work and six dollars I bought back my 
 old furs. 
 
 I^went out.
 
 90 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 A sibilant whisper reached me as I closed 
 the door. "She didn't want to buy any- 
 thing anyway she looked too tacky. Let's 
 see, where was I? I'd get this story told 
 some time, Rose, if people didn't come 
 bothering around. The very next day he 
 called me 'sweetie' over the telephone and "
 
 JOTTING THE NINETEENTH 
 
 UNTRANSLATABLE 
 
 'T^HE professor of languages was very busy 
 * in his study with a number of callers 
 when I went in. 
 
 "I understand, madam," said he, turning 
 to an elderly lady, "that it is your desire 
 to have me translate all ten of these pages 
 into Russian?" 
 
 "Please." 
 
 "And you, sir, want some light on these 
 Norwegian, Chinese and Indian documents?" 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 "And, young lady," continued the professor 
 turning to a blushing young miss, "you 
 desire me to arrive at the meaning in these 
 French and Italian letters?" 
 
 "Yes, sir how wonderful you are, sir, 
 to understand so many languages!" 
 
 "All very simple, my friends. The in- 
 tricacies of foreign languages are, to me, as 
 pellucid as a stream in the morning sun. 
 01
 
 92 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 There is no modern language that presents 
 any difficulty I cannot easily surmount. No 
 matter from what corner of the globe a 
 person may come I can understand him! 
 Perhaps he presents some profound thought 
 in a most involved style, but it's only a matter 
 of seconds before I am able to get the gist 
 of it completely." 
 
 The persons sitting about the professor's 
 study gazed at him solemnly in round-eyed 
 awe. 
 
 The telephone bell rang and the professor 
 reached for the receiver. 
 
 "Yes, yes, hello, is it you, my dear? What? 
 Please repeat that last sentence. What? 
 Pardon, I don't seem to follow you. Now, 
 my dear wife, can't you talk a trifle slower 
 and more distinctly? What? No, I can't 
 catch your meaning at all. I am very busy 
 with some translations just now. Call me 
 later. What? Oh, pshaw! What are you 
 talking about? Why, I haven't understood 
 a word you have said!"
 
 JOTTING THE TWENTIETH 
 
 THE MAN WHO LISTENED 
 
 That was a shabby trick" 
 mourned Van Dyke, "I'll go over to 
 the club, mix in with the boys, tell 'em my 
 troubles and shake off these blues. I'll 
 prove to myself I've got some real friends." 
 
 Van Dyke crossed the avenue and a gust 
 of wind blew him in through the club door. 
 Shedding his dripping hat and coat he joined 
 a merry half circle drawn u p before a crackling 
 fire. 
 
 He had one or two. 
 
 "That man Simonds, that called himself 
 a friend of mine, certainly did me brown. 
 Let me tell you fellows about it " 
 
 "Sorry, old top," explained a man at the 
 edge of the circle as he arose hurriedly, "but 
 I've got to get up to the hospital, wife is 
 there ill, you know." 
 
 Van Dyke nodded.
 
 94 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 "Well, the sneak went to my office in my 
 absence, bribed my stenographer " 
 
 "Jove! I didn't realize it was so late! 
 Got tickets for the theatre. Excuse us, old 
 chap," begged two brisk young men rising 
 from the center of the circle. 
 
 "And in perfect confidence I told him 
 about that 10,000 deal and what did he 
 do but " 
 
 Just here one of the circle was called to 
 the telephone, two more murmured something 
 simultaneously about "Like to hear the 
 finish some other time, awfully sorry, you 
 know really must go." 
 
 Presently Van Dyke wound up his tale, 
 concluding his remarks to a circle that had 
 dwindled to one. And this one a young 
 stranger. He seemed intensely interested in 
 the story Van Dyke was telling. He bent 
 forward eagerly to hear the last word. He 
 nodded in a very friendly, sympathetic 
 manner. 
 
 "Wonder who he is?" thought Van Dyke, 
 "Nice chap. Can't remember him." Then 
 aloud, "Thanks for listening. You can't 
 imagine what a relief it is to have a friend
 
 THE MAN WHO LISTENED 95 
 
 to tell a thing like this to helps a 
 lot." 
 
 "Well, Mr. Van Dyke, I think there is 
 no question that you can get back at that 
 fellow Simonds. If you will step over to 
 my office in the morning we can go into the 
 matter even more thoroughly." 
 
 He handed Van Dyke a card. Van Dyke 
 no longer wondered who his attentive friend 
 was. The card enlightened him. 
 
 He was a lawyer.
 
 JOTTING THE TWENTY-FIRST 
 
 IDENTIFICATION 
 
 , John!" called a friend of mine to 
 her husband one rainy morning as 
 he left the house, "here you are starting out 
 with a new umbrella again and I know you'll 
 come home without it to-night. You've paid 
 enough for umbrellas in the last year to buy 
 me a dinner gown trimmed with spangles. 
 Can't you put a tag on this new umbrella 
 so that if you leave it around, absent- 
 mindedly, in stores and offices, people will 
 return it to you?" 
 
 "Well, I suppose I can, my dear it seems 
 a bit finical to plaster an umbrella with 
 directions, but, as you say, I am absent- 
 minded so perhaps it would be as well to have 
 some means of identification on the umbrella." 
 
 "Attend to it to-day, John." 
 
 "Yes,m'dear."
 
 IDENTIFICATION 07 
 
 So John, acting on his promise, gave the 
 office boy directions to print a tag in heavy 
 letters which should read: "I am absent- 
 minded. If you find this umbrella, kindly 
 drop me a line, phone or call concerning it.'* 
 
 When the tag was completed, John tied 
 it on the umbrella. Then he sent the boy 
 to a nearby jewelry store where silver fili- 
 gree names were to be bought and applied, 
 on short notice, to umbrella handles, pocket- 
 books, leather cases and so on. He had 
 written a note to the jeweler giving directions 
 as to the height of the letter to be used. 
 
 The umbrella was ready at five o'clock 
 and John paid for it and went home. 
 
 "Well, you 'dear old thing " cried John's 
 wife, meeting him at the door. "You've 
 actually put some means of identification 
 on your umbrella at last. I could see the 
 yellow tag flapping about when you were 
 way down at the corner." 
 
 "Yep, m'dear, gave a little history of 
 myself on the tag, while I was about it. 
 Said right out that I was absent-minded. 
 Thought my infirmity might touch an in- 
 different world. People always put them- 
 selves out for a body who is absent-minded."
 
 98 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 John's wife read the tag. "It's all right 
 as far as it goes, but you've forgotten to put 
 your name on the tag!" 
 
 "That's all been thought of, m'dear," 
 John returned with a superior air as he 
 removed a concealing hand from the handle 
 of the umbrella. "Got that done in silver 
 at the jeweler's. So large nobody can miss 
 it. Observe it, m'dear." 
 
 She did. She observed one word noth- 
 ing more no initials just John's surname. 
 She read the name aloud in a tone of sorrowful 
 stupification. 
 
 The name was JONES.
 
 JOTTING THE TWENTY-SECOND 
 
 TIRED BUT ATTIRED 
 
 A LADY of fashion, and her maid, had 
 ^^ arrived at a gay winter resort. They 
 stood in the train shed awaiting their trunks. 
 
 "Are you sure, Fifi, that all the purchases 
 I made yesterday reached home before we 
 left and that you packed them safely? I 
 shall need a great many of those articles to 
 wear at dinner to-night." 
 
 "Yes, Madame, absolutely all that Madame 
 bought is now in the trunks. I have here 
 the lists checked." 
 
 "Run, Fifi, run, quick tell that express- 
 man that I must have every one of those 
 eight trunks delivered at the hotel at once. 
 I can't appear at dinner on the very first 
 night without making a complete and convinc- 
 ing toilette. I shall need every one of those 
 trunks, because some of the things I want 
 are in one and some in another." 
 99
 
 ioo BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 Fifi consulted the expressman. She 
 returned. 
 
 "He say, Madame, will you not be satisfy 
 with four trunk at the first trip and four 
 more this evening? One of the horse have 
 a bad sick headache." 
 
 "Satisfied with half my clothes? Certainly 
 not! I must have everything. It is of 
 utmost importance that my first evening 
 sees me well and becomingly gowned." 
 
 For several hours Fifi unpacked and put 
 away, unpacked and put away. Madame 
 turned the hotel upside down with requests 
 for ironing boards; irons; porters to move 
 the trunks out of the room as they were 
 emptied; boys to run to the drug store; the 
 clerk to have the furniture shifted so the 
 cheval glass would stand under the chandelier 
 in a better light and the dressing table 
 receive its full quota of effulgence from the 
 side brackets; the chambermaid to tidy the 
 room; the manager to view the limited closet 
 space and figure on putting in more shelves 
 and a double row of hooks; the head waiter 
 to secure a prominent place for Madame in 
 the dining room.
 
 TIRED BUT ATTIRED 101 
 
 Dinner time came at last. The sick bag- 
 gage horse was sicker. Fifi was so tired she 
 cried. The chambermaid quit her job. The 
 clerk, exasperated by Madame's whims and 
 fancies, was impertinent to the manager. 
 The head waiter secured the particular seat 
 Madame had designated by making three 
 enemies. 
 
 The momentous undertaking of attiring 
 herself becomingly, from the eight trunks, 
 brought to a successful finish, Madame floated 
 into the dining room. 
 
 She had a wisp, a small, stringy wisp of 
 corn-colored chiffon, draped across her back, 
 several inches below her shoulder blades, 
 and two yards of dress goods draped, in utter 
 disregard to draughts, a trifle below the 
 knees. 
 
 And she had a rhinestone comb in her hair.
 
 JOTTING THE TWENTY-THIRD 
 
 VERY SUSPICIOUS 
 
 /CHARLES ASHTON came home one 
 ^^ evening, kissed his young wife, removed 
 his overcoat, and went whistling cellarward 
 to attend to his nightly job of stoking the 
 furnace. 
 
 Mrs. Ashton watched his fine, manly form 
 with beaming eyes as he descended the cellar 
 stairs. Suddenly she gasped and clutched 
 at her throat. She stood perfectly still in 
 the middle of the kitchen and tears welled 
 into her eyes. 
 
 The next morning, as soon as Charles had 
 left the house, Mrs. Ashton discharged the 
 maid. She gave the grocery boy a quarter 
 and had him bring her trunks down from 
 the attic. She telephoned to a bird hospital 
 and made arrangements to board her canary 
 for an indefinite period and her tone was 
 so melancholy the proprietor of the hospital 
 102
 
 VERY SUSPICIOUS 103 
 
 concluded the poor lady must be a victim 
 of some one of those fearful catastrophies 
 he had read about in the morning paper. 
 
 Next Mrs. Ashton telephoned for a messen- 
 ger boy and wrapping her Boston fern up 
 in a large piece of brown paper, saved from 
 Charles' laundry package, sent the plant 
 over to her cousin on the other side of the 
 city. 
 
 She put the flat silver into the green 
 embroidered cases and tied it up in neat 
 parcels preparatory to taking it to a safety 
 deposit vault. Then she took the pictures 
 down from the walls, crying a little over one 
 or two that she and Charles had selected 
 together, but persevering, in her task of 
 dismantling the house, with grim determina- 
 tion. 
 
 She covered the large pieces of furniture 
 with sheets and shuddered at the gaunt, 
 ghostly outlines. She telephoned the gas 
 company to come and shut off the gas, and 
 asked the city to cut off the water. Last 
 of all she called up police headquarters and, 
 in a sepulchral tone, informed the lieutenant 
 that a watch had better be kept of Mr.
 
 io 4 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 Charles Ashton's house as it was to be 
 
 vacant. 
 
 The doorbell rang. Mrs. Ashton, clutching 
 her new umbrella, her hat on awry and tears 
 streaming onto her chin, opened the door 
 to her mother. 
 
 "Merciful heavens, Grace! Whatever are 
 you doing?" demanded her horrified parent. 
 
 "Pm I'm going back home to live 
 with you, mother. I can't be one of those 
 wives that stands aside calmly and lets her 
 husband run away with another woman and 
 travel all over Florida and California and 
 and Australia " 
 
 "See here, child, do talk sense. Hasn't 
 Charles been a good husband? Have you 
 any real reason to suspect he intends to leave 
 you ? I know what an impulsive, imaginative 
 creature you are. Now, has Charles actually 
 said or done anything at all to lead you to 
 suspect him?" 
 
 "Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" sobbed young Mrs. 
 Ashton, "he came home last night with a 
 railway guide sticking out of his pocket!"
 
 JOTTING THE TWENTY-FOURTH 
 
 WEARING OF THE LONG GREEN 
 
 "IDEALLY, George, I feel a glow of pride 
 *^* every time I save even the tiniest 
 thing these days. You can't imagine what 
 teeny-weeny, thin skins I pare from the 
 apples that I use for sauce, or how I hoard 
 tag ends of bread and scraps of all kinds." 
 
 "Well, I have noticed that the menu 
 seemed a bit pinched now and then," George 
 asseverated, "but that's right, my dear it 
 is a splendid spirit and I commend it in you." 
 
 "I used to buy unnecessary articles, too, 
 for my toilette very often. Those hair nets, 
 for instance. Now instead of paying tweirty- 
 five cents every time I do up my hair I just 
 step to the faucet and with two dashes of 
 water, absolutely free water, I slick my hair 
 down into place and am entirely independent 
 of the extravagant net." 
 
 "Well, well, that is a discovery to be sure, 
 my dear." 
 
 106
 
 io6 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 "Have you ever considered the appalling 
 number of gloves a woman wears during the 
 four seasons, George? Thin, thick, long and 
 short in the silk varieties of gloves for special 
 occasions; then the tan, pearl gray, white 
 and black kid gloves for still other occasions 
 not forgetting the red-brown heavy affairs 
 for street wear, and the fuzzy Scotch glove 
 for skating. Oh, the list is astounding! 
 After I had named the gloves of my past 
 over to myself two or three times I felt 
 ashamed. I am so glad I have changed my 
 mode of living entirely and that I no longer 
 sp s enH money foolishly, but really try to 
 conserve in every direction and make every 
 cent count. 
 
 "Thinking along these lines, George, and 
 taking account of the #350 I have accumu- 
 lated in the last eight months, by doing 
 without a servant and cutting down on the 
 table, an idea came to me. I decided to 
 go down and get that money out of the 
 bank. Cashiers and presidents are so un- 
 reliable. One is apt to get up almost any 
 morning and read a front page account of 
 the failure of a bank out in Idaho or in
 
 WEARING OF THE LONG GREEN 107 
 
 Pennsylvania or some other place. It makes 
 me uncomfortable to know my money is 
 lying about loose, day after day, where it 
 can be a temptation to an employee in the 
 bank and, who knows, perhaps ruin some 
 woman's home, wreck the bungalow before 
 half the installments are paid and clap her 
 husband into jail. These contingencies weigh 
 on my mind terribly, George, so between 
 having saved the money, by scrimping over 
 our provisions (though I must say I've had 
 plenty to eat as there have been an unusual 
 number of club meetings lately to consider 
 the question of feeding the poor, and the 
 hostess always serves sandwiches and cake), 
 between, as I say, working to save the money 
 and worrying over the safety of the bank, 
 my better judgment guided me to take my 
 $350 right over to the jeweler's where I 
 bought " 
 
 "What? What? You bought something 
 at a jeweler's! Bought something for 350! 
 Oh ! Oh !" 
 
 "Be calm, George, you will see I have 
 considered the matter from all sides. Dia- 
 monds are a safe investment. The jeweler
 
 io8 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 has generously provided several little pamph- 
 lets explaining the system at length to anyone 
 who is so short-sighted as not to realize the 
 fact at first glance. Look ! I have purchased 
 this lovely diamond and in this way I can 
 carry my $350 right around with me in a 
 compact and beautiful form, which con- 
 trasted with lugging a great wad of vulgar, 
 crumpled up bills has every advantage. And 
 last of all, George, after showing you in 
 what an esthetic way we women can handle 
 grubby, drab business affairs, I come to 
 my great stroke on the side of economy. 
 Think, George, think now that I have 
 this wonderful diamond on my finger I shall 
 never wear gloves any more!"
 
 JOTTING THE TWENTY-FIFTH 
 
 A DATE WITH FATE 
 
 "fr OD HEAVENS > Mar y what makes 
 
 ^J you so restless?" Mr. Willis crackled 
 his newspaper and stared at his wife. "Every 
 time that I get to the third word in this 
 headline and inform myself that 'Russia is 
 Nearing ' you make a sudden move and 
 Pm back in the U. S." 
 
 "Tom Willis" returned his wife, "you 
 are tiresome and exasperating. You don't 
 do a thing to make my evenings interesting. 
 You are as superfluous as a traffic cop in 
 Venice. There you sit with a newspaper 
 around your head and a bathrobe around 
 your feet, while a lovely moon is shining 
 outdoors!" She drew nearer and glared at 
 her husband. 
 
 "Fve crocheted enough lace, evenings, in 
 the last six months, to stretch twice around 
 the walls of China. I simply abhor sitting 
 
 109
 
 no BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 here every night simply because you have 
 a neuralgic pain in your shoulder-blade." 
 
 "Go out, my dear," suggested Mr. Willis, 
 his eyes still searching his paper. "Take a 
 turn about the park in the motor. The new 
 chauffeur came yesterday and he complained 
 to-day abotft having nothing to do." 
 
 Mrs. Willis, with drooping, dejected shoul- 
 ders, traveled the length of the library and 
 stood viewing herself in a pier glass at the 
 far end of the brilliantly lighted room. 
 
 There was no doubt her corsetiere was an 
 artist. How well sage green looked, con- 
 trasted with a clear skin! Really, seven 
 years of married life sometimes improves a 
 woman. But a man! Her eyes returned 
 to Tom. He was unmistakably round and 
 smug. He was prosaic. 
 
 Silence settled itself warily. Mrs. Willis 
 retreated into a recess and, from behind a 
 brocaded curtain, peered out onto the moon- 
 lit avenue. 
 
 Somebody was going by. With nose 
 misshapen against the glass, she assured 
 herself that the person, who looked like a 
 baker, did have his arm around the fluffy
 
 A DATE WITH FATE in 
 
 maiden at his side. The fever of romance 
 went pumping through Mary Willis's veins. 
 She opened a closet door, took down a hat 
 and coat and stepped into the vestibule. 
 
 Mr. Willis, startled, rose slowly. 
 
 "I'm going out," called his wife's voice, 
 "and I'm going alone and I sh^ll not come 
 in till I've had an adventure. Don't send 
 the cook after me with more wraps. I want 
 to sit in the moonlight and feel chilly and 
 sentimental." 
 
 The front door banged. It shut her out 
 where there were lovers and fragrant syringa 
 bushes; and shut him in with the stock 
 reports and the war and long columns of 
 "Roomers Wanted." 
 
 She straightened her hat, put on a pair 
 of white silk gloves and fastened the neck 
 of her coat. Then she hurried along to the 
 park. Up and down she walked enjoying 
 the crunch of the gravel. She looked at 
 the moon; she smelled the flowers. She 
 was free; she could think her own thoughts; 
 could sit down or get up. She tried a bench. 
 People passed her; lovers. She was con- 
 sumed by a torrent of recklessness that no
 
 ii2 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 thought of home and a forty-eight waist- 
 banded husband could stem. 
 
 Leaning over a stone facade she looked 
 down into a jungle of ferns and imported 
 roses a likely place for snakes. Some- 
 thing struck against her ankles and she 
 screamed. A shadow fell on the white stone; 
 someone was behind her. 
 
 "Don't be alarmed," said a pleasant, youth- 
 ful sounding voice; "that was only a comic 
 supplement blowing about." 
 
 Here was the adventure! Joy gripped her 
 heart. But before proceeding farther she 
 must make certain inquiries. 
 
 "Are you bald and fat, or " she hesitated, 
 "or the reverse?" she finished. 
 
 "My appearance is lank, my soul is lean, 
 and my respectability so well established 
 as to be cold and clammy." 
 
 "Very good," said the little lady; "come 
 around where I can see you." 
 
 "Thank you," said the voice. 
 
 A well set-up person appeared, attired in 
 a neat gray suit. He smiled. His teeth 
 reminded her of the teeth of an Arabian 
 she had seen at the Exposition, and she
 
 A DATE WITH FATE 113 
 
 wondered if he used salt on them. The 
 Arabian had said salt was positively the best 
 dentifrice. Mr. Willis had stubby, yellow 
 teeth. 
 
 "I want you to understand," Mrs. Willis 
 informed the strange man briskly, "that I've 
 come out here because I am sick and tired 
 of crocheting picots across guest towels and 
 because I love romance." Her profile was 
 alluring in the silvery light. 
 
 "Romance or dyspepsia, I am at your 
 command. Only sorry I didn't arrive before 
 you were frightened. Saw you cross the 
 bridge and tried to catch up with you there." 
 
 He, too, leaned over the facade and peered 
 down cautiously at nothing in particular. 
 He had nice slick hair and his coat collar 
 sat well. 
 
 Under the young man's spontaneity, Mrs. 
 Willis found the enervating effects of her 
 peevish mood clearing away like smoke before 
 a rollicking breeze. A path, where pleasurable 
 emotions would snub convention, was stretch- 
 ing away before her. Gingerly she thrust 
 her foot out and took the first step. 
 
 "Suppose we try our luck on the water."
 
 114 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 She pointed, with gay abandon, down a twisty 
 flight of steps partly hidden by shrubbery. 
 "There are boats down there." 
 
 "Certainly," he acquiesced. "I used to 
 pull a pretty fair oar." 
 
 Down they tripped, a guiding hand assisting 
 Mrs. Willis over the uneven places. Down 
 ten steps she thought: Oh Bosh on Tom 
 Willis sitting at home with a moist, smelly 
 hot-water bag on his old shoulder! Tom 
 thought, just as all husbands did, that 
 loading motors and servants and houses on 
 a woman took the place of sweet words and 
 lover-like glances. Servants and houses 
 weren't worth a bean on a night like this. 
 
 Seated in the stern of a boat, she compared 
 her husband with her cavalier. Tom couldn't 
 row a boat; he ate too much caviars. He 
 couldn't lift anybody off a pier in arms of 
 steel or smile like a god. 
 
 "Where would you like to go?" inquired 
 Adonis, in a tone that was warm and de- 
 liciously personal. She commented, inwardly, 
 on his mastery of the minor points that go 
 to perfect the art of charming. 
 
 It was delightful to think their steps had
 
 A DATE WITH FATE 115 
 
 crossed. It was Fate. She had read about 
 Fate in books and newspapers, but to go 
 right out and find it so expeditiously was 
 almost disconcerting. And what a pleasant 
 thing it was, this Fate so obliging. 
 
 "Go anywhere you like," she returned 
 dreamily. 
 
 "Rather where you like," he corrected. 
 "Just pick out the route and I'll turn on the 
 power." 
 
 Settling herself comfortably, she viewed 
 the rolling shores of the little lake. Here 
 and there a light glimmered. Opposite, 
 among the rocks, a fire blazed up. People 
 were hopping about it with long sticks, 
 shouting triumphantly over each hot, pasty 
 marshmallow. The pavilion was gay, but 
 she was glad they had not gone there. It 
 was hard to talk in a mob; besides, some of 
 her friends might be there and friends are 
 apt to be stupid in matters of romance. 
 
 Just once a sharp tremor assailed her heart, 
 but the debonair young person resting on 
 his oars, brought her back to the realm of 
 delightful mystery. 
 
 "I'm here for just one thing and that is to
 
 ii6 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 help you enjoy the scenery," he said, sending 
 a glory of protectiveness straight at her from 
 his wide eyes. "And there is no limit to the 
 stunts I can undertake for your amusement." 
 
 "It is highly amusing just to be free," she 
 answered; "suppose we drift." 
 
 "Right-o, but I don't agree with your 
 qualification of freedom. I've been free for 
 years. Free from every tie and I hate it. 
 Nobody to go away from, nobody to come 
 back to. Last summer I spent in Italy and 
 the darned old moon nearly splintered my 
 spine with high voltage shivers. It is a 
 little more considerate to-night," he added 
 gently. "I had a good case of back home 
 fever before I found you. Ever have topo- 
 graphical tantrums?" 
 
 She laughed a negation. They drifted on 
 and on. 
 
 "You mustn't be disappointed," he re- 
 sumed presently, "if I don't quite come up 
 to your expectation as a conversationalist. 
 Talking to ladies is rather out of my line 
 these days. I'll promise to do better next 
 time." 
 
 She started. He had said "next time."
 
 A DATE WITH FATE 117 
 
 Then this wonderful adventure would con- 
 tinue! She experienced the dawning con- 
 sciousness of an aerie mating that by some 
 deep, inner process her being was undergoing. 
 
 Her common sense, startled, sent a hurry 
 call to all the wraiths of other days. Pale 
 memories of country villas came, vivid recol- 
 lections of bank accounts, confusing thoughts 
 of an indulgent husband pouring heaps of 
 gold along her path with chubby hands. 
 They jostled and pushed. Finally, common 
 sense, with troubled haste, whipped them 
 together into a conglomerate mass and slapped 
 them against the lady's brain, but the 
 inflammation had attacked her heart so 
 the poultice failed. 
 
 She told herself she loved this boy. Of 
 course it was all very sudden. Big things 
 usually are. He would take her away some- 
 where and they would drift under countless 
 moons; would listen to waves washing far-off 
 shores and breathe the perfume of sweet, 
 tropical flowers. They would see the faces 
 of many strange peoples and her adoration 
 would keep him content the whole world 
 over. He would buy her wonderful garments
 
 n8 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 of finest texture and bring them with adoring 
 arms and wrap her close. 
 
 An exclamation startled her. "I believe 
 we are running into a storm." The young 
 man creaked the oars and made a hurried 
 dash for shore. He lifted her from the boat 
 like a wisp of straw and commanded, "Run 
 for the hill; there is a tunnel under it." 
 
 He followed, and, while the storm roared 
 and cracked and thundered, tried to pacify 
 her. She pressed close to his side. A ripping 
 flash, a frightened cry, and then an arm was 
 thrown around her to hold her safe and 
 steady. She looked up and smiled, and 
 thought how wonderful he was. He looked 
 down and smiled and thought, "Caesar! 
 She's a whole lot like mother. Same soft, 
 blowy hair and saucy smile; about the same 
 age, too. Dear old Mummy, how thunder 
 storms did frighten her!" The thought gave 
 impetus to his grip and his arm tightened 
 suddenly. 
 
 It was not very late when Mrs. Willis 
 opened the front door and stepped into 
 the vestibule, but the big house was 
 dark, save for a light on the wide stair.
 
 A DATE WITH FATE 119 
 
 She stood still and shivered. The rain 
 had matted her hair and a greenish stream 
 ran from her hat and dripped onto the floor. 
 She pressed her soggy gloves together and 
 smiled as she thought of the boy's last words : 
 "I'll bring the car around for you at nine 
 in the morning." The pounding of her 
 heart shook her. 
 
 Her husband was asleep. She burst in 
 and woke him rudely. 
 
 "Yes, yes, my dear! What's matter? 
 House afire? Jewels gone? Got indi- 
 gestion ?" 
 
 "See here, Tom Willis, I've found the man. 
 I can't part with him. I won't! She clutched 
 her dripping garments and glared at her 
 sleepy spouse. 
 
 "Oh, all right, Mary. Thought you might 
 resent my sending the chauffeur after you 
 to-night when you had said so decidedly 
 that you wanted to be alone. No need to 
 give him up that I see. Glad you like him. 
 He's a bit high-priced, but think of the class 
 in a gear that's shifted by a college youth. 
 Awfully down on his luck, poor chap. We'll 
 do what we can for him, won't we, Kitten?"
 
 120 BLITHESOME JOTTINGS 
 
 Gleason her new chauffeur ! 
 
 Her gaze traveled down the rose brocade, 
 hanging in graceful folds, at the windows, 
 and lingered a long time on her dressing 
 table. Tom had give her those crystal bottles. 
 He had brought home that exquisite cameo 
 surrounded by pearls. Tom always did 
 everything for her, even to sending out 
 high-priced servants to attend to her safety 
 at night. 
 
 "What?" queried Mr. Willis, in an un- 
 believing tone. "Yes, thank you, my dear, 
 I would like a hot water bottle. You say 
 rubbing might help my shoulder? There, 
 it does feel better. You are awfully good 
 to your dull old husband, but you know I'd 
 send out and get the earth done up in tin-foil 
 for ybu, if you said so. I told Gleason," 
 he added, y'awninig comfortably, "to call for 
 you at nine in the morning. What say, 
 Mary? You'll get up at seven and drive 
 down with me. Mr. Willis reached out and 
 hugged Mrs. Willis. "It will be like old 
 times, Kitten. Have you shopping to do so 
 early?" 
 
 "I want to get some crochet cotton,"
 
 A DATE WITH FATE 121 
 
 murmured Mrs. Willis meekly, "I'm going 
 to put some picots on half a dozen towels 
 for your sister. It will be nice work to do 
 in the evening while you read."
 
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