Kitabı oku: «Knocking the Neighbors», sayfa 7
THE OLD-FASHIONED PROSECUTOR
One morning a great Judge, who had been promoted to the Bench because he could not connect as a Lawyer, climbed up on his Perch and directed the Lord High Sheriff to feed him a few Defendants.
"We have rounded up a tough bunch of Ginks," said the Attorney for the Commonwealth. "I shall ask your Honor to Soak them good and proper."
The first to be led in was a grinning Imp with a wide Mouth, large Freckles and flapping Ears.
It was proven that he stuck Pins into his Grandmother and blew up Elderly Gentlemen with Cannon Crackers and set fire to Houses and was a hard Nut in general. The Prosecutor suggested a Dungeon with Bread and Water.
Up spoke the Prisoner as follows: "I defy you to lay a Hand on me. I am the Stand-By of the Comic Artist and the Star Attraction of the Colored Supplement. When I pull the Step-Ladder from under some Honest Workingman, causing him to break his Leg, or hit a Stout Lady in the Eye with a Brick, please remember that I am bringing Sunshine into thousands of Homes. As I go on my way, committing Arson, Mayhem, and Assault, with Intent to Kill, I am greeted by Peals of Childish Laughter. When you put me out of Business, you will be handing the Circulation an awful Wallop. I am not a Criminal; I am an Institution."
"I remember you very well," said the Judge. "You are my Excuse for buying the Paper. While the Kids are busy with you, I look up Packey McFarland and One-Round Hogan."
Just as the Celebrated Juvenile hit the Fresh Air the second Defendant came into The Dock, taking long sneaky Strides and undulating like a Roller Coaster. She was a tall Gal and very Pale, with Belladonna Optics and her Hair shook out and a fine rhythmical Bellows Movement above the Belt Line.
"She is a raving Beetle," explained the Prosecutor. "She wants to go out doors every Night and count the Moon and pull some of that shine Magazine Poetry. Every time she sees anybody named Eric or Geoffrey she does a Swoon, accompanied by the customary Low Cry, and later on, in her own Boudoir, which is Richly Furnished, she bursts into a Torrent of Weeping. If you start her on a Conversation about Griddle Cakes she will wind up by giving a Diagnosis of Soul-Hunger. She is a Candidate for Padded Cell No. 1 in the big Foolish House. If she continues at Large she may accidentally marry some poor misguided Clarence, and then, if there are any Children, the Neighbors will have to take care of them."
"Do you not recognize me?" asked the Prisoner in low musical Tones, fixing a passionate Gaze on the Court. "I am the Heroine of a Best Seller. If I did not have these large Porcelain Orbs and the Bosom heaving in Rag Time and the Hair swirling in Glorious Profusion, do you suppose that a Member of the Upsilon Pajama Sorority would sit up until 1 A. M. with Me and a Bottle of Queen Olives and a Box of Chocs? If I made up like an ordinary Sadie and talked Straight Stuff, do you think I could last through Ten Editions? I may not be Human, but I can raise the Temperature of every Flathead from Bangor to San Antone."
"You are dead right," said the Court. "We couldn't keep house without you."
So she proceeded to exit, sneeringly, her Garments rustling and a faint Aroma of Violets lingering in her Wake, just as it does in the Red Book that sells for $1.50.
The next Prisoner was a big handsome Buck with his Clothes recently pressed and many Gloves.
"I want a Life Sentence for this Guy," said the learned Prosecutor. "He is so crooked that a Straight Edge would cut him in a thousand places. He would bite an Ear-Ring off of a Debutante or blow open a Family Vault to unscrew the Handles from the Casket containing Father. He promotes phoney Corporations and sells Florida Orange Groves that have Crocodiles swimming around on top of them. He is a prize Bunk, a two-handed Grafter, a Short-Change Artist and a Broadway Wolf. Slip him the Limit."
"You've got me wrong, Steve," said the Prisoner, softly. "I used to be a Depraved Character, but now I am the Big Hero. Under the revised Code of Morals a Handy Boy who goes out and trims a Boob for everything in his Kick becomes recognized as a Comedy Hit and every Seat on the Lower Floor goes for two Bones. Instead of doing a Lock-Step to and from the Broom Factory, I work up to a Dress Suit Finish and marry the Swell Dame. And the Mob is with me. If it came to a Straw Vote between me and Lyman Abbott, I would win by a City Block."
"The Gentleman speaks the Truth," said the Court. "In this Fair Land we forgive a Man anything if his Work has Class. Instead of committing you to the Pen, I shall arrange to spend the Evening with you."
The next was a tall snaky Female with black Beads all over her Person and she was smoking a Cigarette, half closing her Eyes as she blew Rings toward the Ceiling.
"Judge, she is some Brazen Hussey, believe me," said the Prosecutor. "After turning Flip-Flops around the Ten Commandments for fifteen years she married a Good Man and put him on the Fritz. Her regular Job is to loll on a Divan and turn the Coaxing Eye on some poor Geezer who is wandering from Drawing Room to Drawing Room, trying to have his Life wrecked. Please send her up. She is a Menace to Respectable Society."
The Prisoner looked at him in haughty Disdain.
"I am not a Low Woman," she said, proudly. "I am a Matinee Favorite. The Best People in our City hang their Chins over the Seats in front and cry softly whenever I get into Trouble. Don't lock me up or they will be lonesome."
"Go, woman, and keep on Sinning," said the Court, in a kind Voice.
Then, turning to the Defender of the General Good, he said. "You are two years behind the Procession. Hereafter arrest only Business Men who have been Successful."
MORAL: Criminality is merely a Side-Issue.
THE UNRUFFLED WIFE AND THE GALLUS HUSBAND
One day a Married Woman who was entitled to a long row of Service Stripes on her Sleeve, sat in the Motor, and watched the remainder of the Sketch try out his new trick Monoplane.
He scooted away with the Buzzer working overtime and soon was cloud- hopping about a Mile overhead.
When he began doing the Eagle Swoops and the Corkscrew Dips, which so often serve as a Prelude to a good First Page Story with a picture of the Remains being sorted out from the Debris, most of the Spectators gasped and felt their Toes curling inside of their Shoes, but Wifey never batted an Eye. With only one little Strand of Wire or perchance a Steering Knuckle standing between her and a lot of Insurance Money, she retained both her Aplomb and the Lorgnette.
"How can you bear to watch it?" asked a Lady Friend, who was heaving perceptibly.
"Listen," replied the Good Woman. "For many Snows I have been sitting on the Side Lines watching the Dear Boy take Desperate Chances. To begin with, he married into Our Family. Once, at Asbury Park, he acted as Judge at a Baby Show. Later he put a lot of Money into a Bank, the President of which wore Throat Whiskers and was opposed to Sunday Base Ball. He has played Golf on Public Links, hunted Deer during the Open Season in the Adirondacks and essayed the Role of Claude Melnotte in Amateur Theatricals. Once he attended a Clam Bake and took everything that was Passed. An another time he made a Speech when the Alumni celebrated a Foot Ball Victory. Frequently he goes Shopping with me. Last year he acted as Angel for a Musical Comedy. The Driver of our Car is a Frenchman. And don't overlook the Fact that for Six Years he has been a Stock Broker. He may fall at any Moment, but if he does he will pick out a Haystack on the way down."
MORAL: The Wright Brothers were not the first to be Up in the Air.
BOOKS MADE TO BALANCE
Once there was a Husky employed to crack the Whip around a smoky Works that did not offer an attractive Vista from the Car Window, although it blossomed with a fragrant crop of Dividends every time the Directors got together in the Back Room.
Most of the American Workingmen employed in this Hive of Industry came from remote parts of Europe. Each wore his Head entirely in front of his Ears and had taken an Oath to support the Constitution.
It was the duty of the Husky to keep these imported Rabbits on the Jump and increase the Output.
He made himself so strong that he was declared In every time a Melon was sliced, and when it came time to Scramble the Eggs and pull of the grand Whack-Up, he was standing at the head of the Line with a Basket on his Arm.
So it came about that one who started in a Thatched Cottage and grew up on cold Spuds and never saw a Manicure Set until he was 38 years of age, went home one day to find Gold Fish swimming about in every Room and Servants blocking the Hallways.
He had some trouble finding Rings that would go over his Knuckles and the Silk Kind felt itchy for quite a while, but finally he adjusted himself to his new Prosperity and began to deplore the apparent Growth of Socialism.
This rugged and forceful Character, to whom the Muck-Rakers referred as a Baron, had a Daughter who started out as Katie when she carried the Hot Coffee over to Dad every Noon.
When she got her first Chip Diamond and Father switched from the Dudeen to Cigars, she was known in High School Circles as Katherine.
And when Pop got in on the main Divvy and began to take an interest in Paintings, the name went down on the Register at the Waldorf as Kathryn, in those peaked Sierra Nevada Letters about four inches high.
Katie used to go to St. Joseph's Hall once in a while with Martin, the Lad who helped around the Grocery.
Katherine regarded with much Favor a Pallid Drug Clerk who acted as a Clearing House for all Local Scandal.
But say, when Kathyrn came back from a vine-clad Institute overlooking the historic Hudson and devoted to the embossing and polishing of the Female Progeny of those who have got away with it, she began working the Snuffer on all the Would-Bes back in the Mill Town. When she got through extinguishing, the little Group that remained looked like the Remnant of the Old Guard at Waterloo.
Father had to stick around because occasionally the eight thousand Good Tempered Boys on the Pay Roll would begin to burn with Wood Alcohol and the Wrongs of Labor and pull off a few Murders, merely to hasten the Triumph of Justice.
By the way, Kathryn had a Mother who used to hide in a room upstairs and timidly inspect her new Silk Dresses.
Kathryn applied the Acid Test to her People and decided that they never could Belong.
She swung on the General Manager for a Letter of Credit big enough to set Ireland free and went traipsing off to the Old World under the chaperonage of a New York Lady who had seen Better Days.
Now it will be admitted that William J. Burns is Some Sleuth, but when it comes to apprehending and running to Earth a prattling American Ingenue with a few Millions stuffed in her Reticule, the Boy with the mildewed Title who sits on the Boulevard all day and dallies with the green and pink Bottled Goods has got it all over Burns like a Striped Awning.
All the starving members of the Up-Against-It Association were waiting at the Dock to cop the prospective Meal Ticket. Not one of them had ever Shaved or Worked and each wore his Handkerchief inside his Cuff and had Yellow Gloves stitched down the Back, and was fully entitled to sit in an Electric Chair and have 80,000 Volts distributed through the Steel Ribs of his Corset.
As soon as Kathryn began to meet the Roqueforts and Camemberts she discovered that they had Lovely Eyes and certainly knew how to treat a Lady.
Kathryn had been brought up on Philadelphia Literature, and even during her most ambitious Social Flights she had encountered the Type of Man who remains on the opposite side of the Room having trouble with his White Gloves.
She never had been against those Willing Performers from Gascony who wore Red Ribbons and Medals and who rushed over to kiss the Hand and then look deep into her Eyes and throb like a Motor Boat.
This class of Work simply shot her Pulse up to 130 and made her think that she was Cleopatra, floating in the Royal Barge and surrounded by Crawling Slaves.
When a certain Markee crawled into her Lap and purred into her Ear and threatened to curl up on the Rug and die if she Refused him, she simply keeled over with Excitement.
After she recovered, she found herself actually Engaged to the Representative of one of the Oldest Families in the Saucisson District of the Burgoo Province and as manly a Chap as ever borrowed Money from a Toe-Dancer.
She hurried home to keep it out of the Newspapers and to tell those who would listen that American Men were Impossible. Then the Markee came over with his Solicitor and a Bottle of Chloroform and a full kit of Surgical Instruments, and the Wedding was fully reported by the Associated Press.
The Captain of Industry sized up Son-in-Law, and knew that when the Money was gone the Markee could always get a job hanging up Hats in the Check-Room of a first-class Table d'Hote Restaurant.
From the window of her Chateau in the Burgoo Province the Lady Cashier can see the American Tourists going by in their hired Motor Cars. Her Cheek flushes with Delight when she happens to remember that in another Three Months or so, Friend Husband will come home long enough to show her where to sign her Name.
What is more, she has the Privilege of walking out at any time and picking Flowers with the Understanding that she is not to let it be known that she is related to any of her Relatives on either side of the Atlantic.
MORAL: Europeans made the Money and they had a Right to pull it down.
THE TWO UNFETTERED BIRDS
Once there was a Girl with a gleaming New Hampshire Forehead who used to exchange helpful Books with a studious young Man who had an Intellect of high Voltage.
It will not be necessary to name these Gazooks, as you never heard of them.
Laura and Edgar were Comrades, in a way. They met under the Student Lamp and talked about Schopenhauer and Walter Pater, but the Affair never got beyond that Point. It was not even warm enough to be called Platonic. It carried about as much Romantic Suggestion as a cold Hot Water Bag.
There grew up between them merely a Fellowship of the Super-Mind, or what a Wimp wearing Tortoise-Shell Spectacles would call Cosmahogany.
Having cleared away the Underbrush, we will now proceed with the Narrative.
Like every other Member of the Tribe of Mansard Mentalities, they regarded with much Contempt the School of Popular Fiction.
Do you think they would stand for any of that old-style Guff about Sir Ralph getting the Hammer-Lock on Dorothy just outside the Loggia?
Not on your Thought Waves!
They regarded the Article commonly called Love as a lingering Symptom of some primeval Longing for Parlor Entertainment.
It was agreed that each Soul was free and independent, and had a right to run on its own private Time-Table.
Laura said she was going to live her Life in her own Way and that no Wallopus in striped Trousers could leave her marooned in a Flat, working under Sealed Orders.
Edgar did not choose to carry Overweight while working out his Career and grew faint at the very Thought of shouldering a lot of Domestic Responsibilities.
Marriage was an institution devised for Strap-Hangers who wanted to get their Names into the Paper.
It was a childish Refuge for those who lacked Courage to forsake the beaten Paths and strike out for the High Spots.
It will be seen that they were somewhat Advanced. As far back as 1890 they were living in the 21st Century.
Laura went in for Club Work and Cold Baths and Card-Indexing.
She felt sorry for the Married Women. They were always fussed up over getting a Laundress or telling about new cases of Scarlet Rash or else 'phoning the Office to make sure that the Bread-Winner was at the Desk and behaving himself.
When she let down her Hair at Night she did not have to do any checking up or put the bottle of Squills on the Radiator.
She was Free and Happy. A little lonesome on Rainy Days, but the freest thing you ever saw and she had her Books.
Edgar looked about him and saw the Slaves of Matrimony watching the Clock and getting ready to duck at 11 P. M. and rejoiced inwardly.
He could land in at his little Independence Hall at 4 G. M., and turn on all the Lights and drape his Wardrobe over the Rugs and light Cigarettes and there was not a Voice to break the celestial Stillness.
He figured that Children must be an awful Worry.
He brooded over the Kid Proposition so much that soon after he was 30 years of Age he used to go around and borrow his Nephews and Nieces and take them to the Circus and buy expensive Presents for them and upset the Household Rules.
Occasionally he would take a new Book dealing with the Higher Things of Life up to his old friend Laura and he would find her feeding the Birds, with the Cat asleep in the Corner and an imported Dog with many Curls pre-empting the principal Chair.
They would discuss Prison Reform and Kipling and other Subjects in no way related to the awakening of the Maternal Instinct.
When he owned up to 40 and she had stopped talking about it, the Reading Habit was no longer a Novelty with him, so merely to kill Time, he was acting on the Visiting Board of an Orphan Asylum and was a Director of the Fresh Air Fund and was putting the Office Boy through a Business College.
About the same time Laura was made the victim of a Conspiracy.
A designing Day Laborer and his Wife deliberately up and died, leaving a Chick of a Daughter, all helpless and alone.
Laura simply had to go over and grab the Young One and play Mother to her, because it all happened hardly a Mile from her own Door-Step.
She had been dodging these commonplace and old-fashioned Responsibilities all her Life and now cruel Circumstances compelled her to spend Hours in servile Attentions to a stray Specimen.
Of course, she had the Expert Advice of her old friend Edgar, who made out the Adoption Papers and sent a lot of Merchandise up to the House, out of the promptings of a broad and general sentiment of Pity for the Unfortunate.
Even when they stood up to be Married they were still stringing themselves.
He was bald and grizzled and she was a little droopy around the Shoulders and had not been able to massage away the more important Wrinkles.
They scouted the Suggestion that it was a Love Match.
It seemed that she needed a Night Watchman and he was afraid to be alone in the Dark with the Memories of the Past.
MORAL: After you pass 40 you must take charge of something Human, even if it is only a Chauffeur.
