nces abroad while he was checking
up what the waiter had put down.

"My idea of rest?" he says. "Why taking Belleau Woods after three
restless weeks in the trenches," he says.

Which sort of puts the nut in the shell, as the saying is. And also at
the same time reminds me of the rest I just recently took.

Not that I generally need one any more than any other thoroughly
successful star, for heavens knows the best known parlor dancing act in
the world and Broadway, which mine undoubtedly is, dont need to rest
because the managers theirselves always come after me and resting I
leave to the booking-agency hounds. But this time it was bonea fido, and
come about in a sort of odd way.

To commence at the start it begun with me falling for the movies, which
Gawd knows I only done it for the money, their being no art in it, and
they having hounded me into them for a special fillum. And of course
many well known girls like Mary Garden and Nazimova go into pictures and
even myself, but its simply because of being hounded, as I say. But once
in you earn your money, believe you me, and I have stood around waiting
for the sun like Moses, or whoever it was, until my feet nearly froze to
the pallasades before jumping off, only of course it was a dummy they
threw after I had made the original motions of the leap to death. And
the worst part is once you are signed up on one of these "payment to be
made wheather the party of the first part (thats me) is working or not"
you got to do like they say, and a whole lot of the "not working" means
plain standing around waiting for the director or the camera-man or the
rain to quit, and what us public favorites suffers when on the job is
enough to make the photographor's Favorite of Grainger, Wyo., abandon
the career she might of had in favour of domestic service or something
like that where she'd get a little time to herself.

Well anyways my judgment having slipped to the extent of having signed
my sense of humor away for six months at twenty-two hundred a week, I
was in the very middle of a fillum called the Bridge to Berlin when one
day, just as a big brute of a German officer by the name of O'Flarety
had me by the throat in a French chateau, the studio manager comes in
and says the armistice is signed and the war is over, and we was to quit
as who would release a war fillum now and we was to start on something
entirely different, only he didn't know what the hell it was to be and
here