th my new job. It looked like
the powdered-sugar industry was going to suffer because about all the
plaster in the country seemed to be being used on arches which looked
like dago-wedding cakes and you actually missed the dolls dressed like
brides and grooms off the top of them. And here and there was some funny
looking columns of the same white stuff and on the Public Library steps
a bunch of spears and shields was thrown all over the place just as if
a big Shakespearian production had suddenly give it up in despair and
left their props and hoofed it back to Broadway. It certainly was
imposing.

Up at 59th Street was a arch that looked like Coney Island frozen solid.
It was all of little pieces of glass:--heavy glass and millions of
pieces. I don't know what good they did, but they shone something grand,
and must of cost a terrible lot of money. I guessed the boys would
certainly feel proud to march under it provided none of it fell on their
heads.

Believe you me, by the time I got home my head was full of imaginary
architecture like Luna Park and Atlantic City jumbled together with a
set I seen in "The Fall of Rome" when we was shooting it at Yonkers. And
after I had squirmed out of my walking suit and was a free woman once
more, in a negligee, which is French for kimona which is Japanese for
wrapper, well, anyways, I lay in it and opened up the evening paper
because I am not one to let the news get ahead on me and have acquired
the habit of reading it regular the same as my daily bath.

But it was hard to keep my attention on it because Maude was still
missing and also I kept thinking, when not of her, of the lovely arches
and so forth my ten thousand would build. I had about settled on
pink-stucco, with real American beauties strung on it and a pair of
white kittens in plaster--symbol of the best known Theatrical Ladies
Association in Broadway, and I expect the world--at the top, when I
opened the paper again and I see something which set my mind thinking.

"70th will add thousands to ranks of unemployed."

Yes, that's just what it said. And I went on and read the piece where it
said how enough men to start a real live city was being fed at
soup-kitchens and bread lines, not in Russia or Berlin, but right in N.
Y. C., N. Y., U. S. A.! Somehow, coming right on top of all their arches
and so forth, it sort of struck me in the pit of my stomach and give me
the same sinking sensation like a second helping of gridd