though so unnoticeable; so I just says thanks, and then—believe you me—started out on some rush!

First of all, I hustled up to old Doc Al's place, which Ma and me has him for a doctor; though Gawd knows there ain't never a blessed thing the matter with our healths. Still, since her trapeze days Ma has always felt that emergencies do happen. Well, of course, he give me a perfect certificate in less than ten minutes' time, and I was off to see Goldringer, head of the dancing trust; and him and his partner, Kingston, each give me a elegant letter of recommendation, than which I could scarcely of got letters from any more prominent citizens—unless, maybe, Pres. Wilson.

Well, anyways, I took all three recommends down to the young lady lieutenant, and there all was the same. Well, it was still lacking five to twelve when I come in, and Miss Lieutenant looked quite some surprised, though she tried not to. The letters and the doc's certificate was O. K.; and the first thing you know, I was signed up and given three passes. One for the auto school for two o'clock that same P. M.; one for the hospital, calling for me to be on hand for rehearsal of the nursing act at nine o'clock next morning. The third was also a call for rehearsal—a outdoor drill in the park at three P. M. next day. It looked like I was going to have a busy life.

"Well," I says, "would you like the car now?" I says. "I can walk home just as good as not."

"No, thanks," says Miss Lieutenant. "We will call upon you for it when it is needed."

Believe you me, I was grateful for that, because I ain't used to hustling round in the early morning, and I had hustled some this time. So I climbed in and says "Home, James!" and dropped in on the seat and was carried uptown for lunch.

While on the way I got the first chance I'd had all morning to think about Jim, and to wonder what he had said when he phoned to apologize. And did the ache come back in my heart when I got thinking of him? It did! I felt almost sick with lonesomeness by the time I got to the flat. And whatter you think? Jim hadn't phoned at all! Not a peep out of him!

At first I thought there must be some mistake; but after I'd rowed with the operator in the hall, and with Ma and Musette both, I come to realize that the split between me and Jim was real—that we was off each other sure enough. And it was not so surprising that a man which didn't hit a German whose alligator had bit him wouldn't know how to treat a lady!

But somehow Jim's being so mean about not phoning perked me up a lot and give me courage to think of going into that auto school. I had commenced to be awful doubtful about it; but Jim's neglect, together with the lunch Ma had fixed, set me up a lot. And by one-thirty by my wrist watch, and a quarter to two by the mantel-piece clock, I had the strength to struggle into a demitallieur, which is French for any lady's suit costing over sixty dollars, and get to the auto school by the time the lady lieutenant had told them to expect me.

Oh, that auto school! The torture chambers of this here Castle of Chillon has nothing on it and—believe you me—the first set of tools a person going into it needs is a manicure set. The next thing they need is a good memory, the kind which can get a twelve-hundred-line part overnight; which no dancer can nor is ever supposed to!

One thing I will say for that school, though—they was not such a ill-informed lot as the Automobile Service. From the very minute I set foot inside the place they knew who I was, and the manager give me the pick of half a dozen young fellows who was just filled with patriotic longing to help me qualify for the service.

After giving them the once over I finally decided on one lean-looking bird, who seemed married, and quiet, and likely to teach me something about the insides of an auto, instead of asking me questions about the steps of the Teatime Tango Trot, and did I feel the same in my make-up?

Well, the first thing this bird asks me is do I know anything about a car? And I says, know what? And he says, well, can I name the parts of a car? And I says, yes; and he says for me to name them. So I says color, lining, flower holder, clock, speaking tube and chauffeur.

Well, the bird says so far correct; but that wasn't enough, and he guessed we better begin at the more fundamental parts and would I just step inside?

Well, it seems this auto school undertakes to teach you everything about a car from the paint on the body to the appendix, or magneto, as it is called, in twenty lessons; which is like trying to teach the Teatime Tango Trot, with three hand-springs and twenty whirls round your partner's neck, by mail for five dollars. Which is to say it can't be done.

First off, the instructor hands you a bunch of yellow papers with a lot of typewriting on them—twenty sheets in all, or one per lesson, and all you got to do is learn them good and then put into practice what you learn; and after that what you can't do to a car would fill a book!

Well, after you grab this sheaf of stage bank notes you look at number one and follow the bird that's teaching you round the room while he reels it off. I guess the idea of you holding the paper is to check him up if he makes a mistake. Anyways, this bird let me in among a flock of busted-looking pieces of machinery and begun talking fast. At first, I didn't get him at all; but when I got sort of used to it I realized he was saying something like this:

"The crank shaft is a steel drop-forging having arms extending from center of shaft according to number of cylinders. It is used to change the reciprocating movement of the piston into a rotary motion of the flywheel; it has a starting handle at one end and the flywheel at the other, as you observe. We will now pass on to the exhaust manifold, which is generally constructed of cast iron; it conducts the burned gases from the exhaust valve . . ."

"Hold on!" I says. "Exhaust is right! I'm exhausted this minute. If you don't mind I'd like to sit down and talk sense, instead of listening to a phonograph monologue in a foreign language."

The instructor bird seemed sort of winded by this; but he got a couple of chairs and pretty soon we was sitting in a quiet corner talking like we'd both been on the same circuit for five years.

"Now listen here, brother," I says real earnest; "I want to learn this stuff, and learn it right! And I want you to stick by me and see me through, same as you would any male man that come in here to learn to be a chauffeur. Now take it easy and make me get it, and I'll play square and do my best to understand, without no nonsense."

"Say, you bet I will, Miss La Tour!" says this bird, who, married or not, had some spirit in him yet. "You bet I will! You see, a lot of dames come in here just because they ain't got nothing else to do. And you yourself must realize that a guy can only go through the motions when that's all they want."

Well, I could see that plain enough, and from then on we got along like a new team of partners with equal money in the act and going big on thirty straight weeks' booking. And—believe you me—there is a awful lot of interesting things about a auto; only you would never suspect it until you start to look at what is under the hood and body. As to understanding them all, you couldn't get it all off of no twenty sheets of yellow paper, nor twenty hundred, either! It's a career, really understanding a machine is; just the same as being a expert dancer. The guy that invented all them parts and got them working together certainly must of set up