elegant rose-silk negligee I give her; and as usual, she had it ruined by tying a big gingham apron over it, which made her look the size of a house, but sort of comforting. She stopped by the bed and set both her hands on her lips—the way she does when she don't mean to be answered back.

"Now, Mary Gilligan, you get right up and wash your teeth!" says Ma, "and do your three handsprings and other exercises, decent and proper; and then eat the breakfast I got cooked for you."

Funny thing, but Ma ain't got a mite of dramatic sense. I just can't understand it, after her having been with the circus so long on the trapeze, until she got too heavy after I come; and since then in the wardrobe-end of the theater, and all. I ain't never been able to break her in to none of the refinements of life, either, and she will go into the kitchen for[Pg 15] all I say; and some day I just know she'll call me Gilligan in public. And a nice laugh that'll get!

[Pg 15]

But, anyhow, I usually do what she says, because Ma is a fine trainer; and—believe you me—I wouldn't be able to hold on to Jim's neck and swing out straight twenty times round, like I do—or did—only for her and her keeping me on the job like she's done. The only other trouble with Ma is, she can't seem to properly understand that it's my artistic temperament which has brought in the cash—that and some good looks, and me realizing that this refined parlor-dancing stuff would go over big. Of course Jim's being able to wear a dress suit like he'd been born in it has helped some, even aside from being such a fine partner; which brings me back, as they say, to the tale.

Well, I done my exercise, and so forth, and then I had Musette bring up the sofa, a elegant gilt one—for we got what Ma calls Looie-the-Head-Waiter stuff in our parlor—to the window, so's I could lay and look dreamily out over the autos on the Drive to the ships in the river; you know—the German ships which have been taking out their naturalization[Pg 16] papers, or something. And, as I lay there thinking, I come to the conclusion that if I told about the split I better tell all, including my own enlistment.

[Pg 16]

Oh, how well I can now understand why many men enlist, having been through it all myself! And how then they long to get out, and can't, and realize that they was boobs! And how they learn that they weren't boobs after all, once they got used to it! Do you get me?

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