Jerry [pathetically]. I thought you were through.
Charlotte. Well, you’ve driven what I had to say right out of my head. [To Doris.] What do you think he said to-night? He said if he hadn’t married me he’d be President of the United States.
At this Jerry drops his newspaper precipitately, walks in anger to the door, and goes out without speaking.
You see? Just a display of temper. But it doesn’t worry me. [She sighs—the shrew.] I’m used to it.{29}
Doris tactfully makes no reply. After a momentary silence she changes the subject.
Doris. Well, I find I just made an awful mistake.
Charlotte [eagerly]. Not keeping both those men for a while? That’s what I think.
Doris. No. I mean—do you remember those three dresses I had lengthened?
Charlotte [breathlessly]. Yes.
Doris [tragically]. I’ll never be able to wear them.
Charlotte. Why?
Doris. There’s a picture of Mae Murray in the new Motion Picture Magazine … my dear, half her calf!
Charlotte. Really?
At this point the door leading to the dining-room opens and Jerry comes in. Looking neither to left nor to right, he marches to his lately vacated place, snatches up half his newspaper, and goes out without speaking. The two women bestow on him a careless glance and continue their discussion.
Doris. It was just my luck. I wish I’d hemmed them like I thought of doing, instead of cutting them off. That’s the way it always is. As soon as I get my hair bobbed, Marilyn Miller begins to let hers grow. {30}And look at mine— [She removes her hat.] I can’t do a thing with it. [She replaces her hat.] Been to the Bijou Theatre?
Charlotte. No, what’s there?
Again Jerry comes in, almost unbearably self-conscious now. The poor man has taken the wrong part of the paper. Silently, with a strained look, he makes the exchange under the intense supervision of four eyes, and starts back to his haven in the dining-room. Then he jumps as Doris speaks to him.
Doris. Say!
Jerry [morosely dignified]. What?
Doris [with real interest]. What makes you think you could be President?
Jerry [to Charlotte]. That’s right. Make a fool of me in front of all your relations! [In his excitement he bangs down his paper upon a chair.]
Charlotte. I haven’t said one word—not one single solitary word—have I, Doris?
Jerry goes out hastily—without his paper!
Did I say one word, Doris? I’ll leave it to you. Did I say one single word to bring down all that uproar on my head? To have him swear at me?
Jerry, crimson in the face, comes in, snatches up his forgotten paper, and rushes wildly out again.
{31}
He’s been nagging at me all evening. He said I kept him from doing everything he wanted to. And you know very well, Doris, he’d have been a postman if it hadn’t been for me. He said he wished I was dead.
It seems to me it was Charlotte who wished Jerry was dead!
He said he could get a better wife than me for thirty dollars a week.
Doris [fascinated]. Did he really? Where did he say he could get her?
Charlotte. That’s the sort of man he is.
Doris. He’d never be rich if you gave him the money. He hasn’t got any push. I think a man’s got to have push, don’t you? I mean sort of uh! [She gives a little grunt to express indomitable energy, and makes a sharp gesture with her hand.] I saw in the paper about a fella that didn’t have any legs or arms forty years old that was a millionaire.
Charlotte. Maybe if Jerry didn’t have any legs or arms he’d do better. How did this fella make it?
Doris. I forget. Some scheme. He just thought of a scheme. That’s the thing, you know—to think of some scheme. Some kind of cold cream or hair—say, I wish somebody’d invent some kind of henna that nobody could tell. Maybe Jerry could.{32}
Charlotte. He hasn’t brains enough.
Doris. Say, I saw a wonderful dog to-day.
Charlotte. What kind of a dog?
Doris. It was out walking with Mrs. Richard Barton Hammond on Crest Avenue. It was pink.
Charlotte. Pink! I never saw a pink dog.
Doris. Neither did I before. Gosh, it was cunning…. Well, I got to go. My fiancé is coming over at quarter to nine and we’re going down to the theatre.
Charlotte. Why don’t you bring him over some time?
Doris. All right. I’ll bring him over after the movies if you’ll be up.
They walk together to the door. Doris goes out and Charlotte has scarcely shut the door behind her when the bell rings again. Charlotte opens the door and then retreats half-way across the room, with an alarmed expression on her face. A man has come in, with a great gunny-sack slung over his shoulder. It is none other than Mr. Snooks or Snukes, the bootlegger.
I wish I could introduce you to the original from whom I have taken Mr. Snooks. He is as villainous-looking a man as could be found in a year’s search. He has a weak chin, a broken nose, a squint{33} eye, and a three days’ growth of beard. If you can imagine a race-track sport who has fallen in a pool of mud you can get an idea of his attire. His face and hands are incrusted with dirt. He lacks one prominent tooth, lacks it with a vulgar and somehow awful conspicuousness. His most ingratiating smile is a criminal leer, his eyes shift here and there upon the carpet, as he speaks in a villainous whine.
Charlotte [uneasily]. What do you want?
Mr. Snooks leers and winks broadly, whereat Charlotte bumps back against the bookcase.
Snooks [hoarsely]. Tell your husband Sandy Claus is here.
Charlotte [calling nervously]. Jerry, here’s somebody wants to see you. He says he’s—he’s Santa Claus.
In comes Jerry. He sees the situation, but the appearance of the b-o-o evidently shocks him, and a wave of uneasiness passes over him. Nevertheless, he covers up these feelings with a magnificent nonchalance.
Jerry. Oh, yes. How de do? How are you? Glad to see you.
Snooks [wiggling the bag, which gives out a loud, glassy clank]. Hear it talking to you, eh?
Charlotte looks from one to the other of them darkly.
{34}
Jerry. It’s all right, Charlit. I’ll tend to it. You go up-stairs. You go upstairs and read that—there’s a story in the Saturday Evening Post about a Chinese girl on the Buzzard Islands that——
Charlotte. I know. Who isn’t a Chinese girl. Never mind that. I’ll stay right here.
Jerry turns from her with the air of one who has done his best—but now—well, she must take the consequences.
Jerry [to Snooks]. Is this Mr. Snukes? Or Snooks?
Snooks. Snooks. Funny name, ain’t it? I made it up. I got it off a can of tomatoes. I’m an Irish-Pole by rights. [Meanwhile he has been emptying the sack of its contents and setting them on the table. First come two one-gallon jars, one full, the other empty. Then a square, unopened one-gallon can. Finally three small bottles and a medicine dropper.]
Charlotte [in dawning horror]. What’s that? A still?
Snooks [with a wink at Jerry]. No, lady, this here’s a wine-press.
Jerry. [He’s attempting to conciliate her.] No, no, Charlit. Listen. This gentleman here is going to make me some gin—very, very cheap.
Charlotte. Some gin!{35}
Jerry. Yes, for cocktails.
Charlotte. For whose cocktails?
Jerry. For you and me.
Charlotte. Do you think I’d take one of the poison things?
Jerry [to Snooks]. They’re not poison, are they?
Snooks. Poison! Say, lady, I’d be croaked off long ago if they was. I’d be up wid de angels! This ain’t wood alcohol. This is grain alcohol. [He holds up the gallon can, on which is the following label]:
WOOD ALCOHOL!
POISON!
[image of Skull and crossed-bones, not available.]
Charlotte [indignantly]. Why, it says wood alcohol right on the can!
Snooks. Yes, but it ain’t. I just use a wood-alcohol can, so in case I get caught. You’re allowed to sell wood alcohol, see?
Jerry [explaining to Charlotte]. Just in case he gets caught—see?{36}
Charlotte. I think the whole performance is perfectly terrible.
Jerry. No, it isn’t. Mr. Snooks has sold this to some of the swellest families in the city—haven’t you, Mr. Snooks?
Snooks. Sure. You know old man Alec Martin?
Jerry [glancing at Charlotte, who is stony-eyed]. Sure. Everybody knows who they are.
Snooks. I sole ’em a gallon. And John B. Standish? I sole him five gallons and he said it was the best stuff he ever tasted.
Jerry [to Charlotte]. See—? The swellest people in town.
Snooks. I’d a got here sooner, only I got double crossed to-day.
Jerry. How?
Snooks. A fella down-town sold me out to the rev’nue officers. I got stuck for two thousand dollars and four cases Haig and Haig.
Jerry. Gee, that’s too bad!
Snooks. Aw, you never know who’s straight in this game. They’ll double cross you in a minute.
Jerry. Who sold you out?
Snooks. A fella. What do you suppose he got for it?{37}
Jerry. What?
Snooks. Ten dollars. What do you know about a fella that’d sell a guy out for ten dollars? I just went right up to him and said: “Why, you Ga——”
Jerry [nervously]. Say, don’t tell us!
Snooks. Well, I told him where he got off at, anyways. And then I plastered him one. An’ the rev’nue officers jus’ stood there and laughed. My brother ’n I are goin’ ’round an’ beat him up again tomorra.
Jerry [righteously]. He certainly deserved it.
A pause.
Snooks [after a moment’s brooding]. Well, I’ll fix this up for you now.
Charlotte [stiffly]. How much is it?
Snooks. This? Sixteen a gallon.
Jerry [eagerly]. See, that makes two gallons of the stuff, Charlotte, and that’s eight quarts, and eight quarts of the stuff makes sixteen quarts of cocktails. That’s enough to last us—oh, three years anyhow. Just think how nice it’ll be
