CHAPTER XXIII. MOTHER'S KNEE
Archie Moffam's connection with that devastatingly popular ballad,"Mother's Knee," was one to which he always looked back later with acertain pride. "Mother's Knee," it will be remembered, went through theworld like a pestilence. Scots elders hummed it on their way to kirk;cannibals crooned it to their offspring in the jungles of Borneo; it wasa best-seller among the Bolshevists. In the United States alone threemillion copies were disposed of. For a man who has not accomplishedanything outstandingly great in his life, it is something to have beenin a sense responsible for a song like that; and, though there weremoments when Archie experienced some of the emotions of a man who haspunched a hole in the dam of one of the larger reservoirs, he neverreally regretted his share in the launching of the thing.
It seems almost bizarre now to think that there was a time when even oneperson in the world had not heard "Mother's Knee"; but it came fresh toArchie one afternoon some weeks after the episode of Washy, in his suiteat the Hotel Cosmopolis, where he was cementing with cigarettes andpleasant conversation his renewed friendship with Wilson Hymack, whom hehad first met in the neighbourhood of Armentieres during the war.
"What are you doing these days?" enquired Wilson Hymack.
"Me?" said Archie. "Well, as a matter of fact, there is what you mightcall a sort of species of lull in my activities at the moment. But myjolly old father-in-law is bustling about, running up a new hotel abit farther down-town, and the scheme is for me to be manager when it'sfinished. From what I have seen in this place, it's a simple sort ofjob, and I fancy I shall be somewhat hot stuff. How are you filling inthe long hours?"
"I'm in my uncle's office, darn it!"
"Starting at the bottom and learning the business and all that? A noblepursuit, no doubt, but I'm bound to say it would give me the pip in nouncertain manner."
"It gives me," said Wilson Hymack, "a pain in the thorax. I want to be acomposer."
"A composer, eh?"
Archie felt that he should have guessed this. The chappie had adistinctly artistic look. He wore a bow-tie and all that sort of thing.His trousers bagged at the knees, and his hair, which during the martialepoch of his career had been pruned to the roots, fell about his ears inluxuriant disarray.
"Say! Do you want to hear the best thing I've ever done?"
"Indubitably," said Archie, politely. "Carry on, old bird!"
"I wrote the lyric as well as the melody," said Wilson Hymack, who hadalready seated himself at the piano. "It's got the greatest title youever heard. It's a lallapaloosa! It's called 'It's a Long Way Back toMother's Knee.' How's that? Poor, eh?"
Archie expelled a smoke-ring doubtfully.
"Isn't it a little stale?"
"Stale? What do you mean, stale? There's always room for another songboosting Mother."
"Oh, is it boosting Mother?" Archie's face cleared. "I thought it was ahit at the short skirts. Why, of course, that makes all the difference.In that case, I see no reason why it should not be ripe, fruity, andpretty well all to the mustard. Let's have it."
Wilson Hymack pushed as much of his hair out of his eyes as he couldreach with one hand, cleared his throat, looked dreamily over the topof the piano at a photograph of Archie's father-in-law, Mr. DanielBrewster, played a prelude, and began to sing in a weak, high,composer's voice. All composers sing exactly alike, and they have to beheard to be believed.
"One night a young man wandered through the glitter of Broadway: Hismoney he had squandered. For a meal he couldn't pay."
"Tough luck!" murmured Archie, sympathetically.
"He thought about the village where his boyhood he had spent, And yearned for all the simple joys with which he'd been content."
"The right spirit!" said Archie, with approval. "I'm beginning to likethis chappie!"
"Don't interrupt!"
"Oh, right-o! Carried away and all that!"
"He looked upon the city, so frivolous and gay; And, as he heaved a weary sigh, these words he then did say: It's a long way back to Mother's knee, Mother's knee, Mother's knee: It's a long way back to Mother's knee, Where I used to stand and prattle With my teddy-bear and rattle: Oh, those childhood days in Tennessee, They sure look good to me! It's a long, long way, but I'm gonna start to-day! I'm going back, Believe me, oh! I'm going back (I want to go!) I'm going back--back--on the seven-three To the dear old shack where I used to be! I'm going back to Mother's knee!"
Wilson Hymack's voice cracked on the final high note, which was of analtitude beyond his powers. He turned with a modest cough.
"That'll give you an idea of it!"
"It has, old thing, it has!"
"Is it or is it not a ball of fire?"
"It has many of the earmarks of a sound egg," admitted Archie. "Ofcourse--"
"Of course, it wants singing."
"Just what I was going to suggest."
"It wants a woman to sing it. A woman who could reach out for that lasthigh note and teach it to take a joke. The whole refrain is working upto that. You need Tetrazzini or someone who would just pick that noteoff the roof and hold it till the janitor came round to lock up thebuilding for the night."
"I must buy a copy for my wife. Where can I get it?"
"You can't get it! It isn't published. Writing music's the darndestjob!" Wilson Hymack snorted fiercely. It was plain that the man waspouring out the pent-up emotion of many days. "You write the biggestthing in years and you go round trying to get someone to sing it, andthey say you're a genius and then shove the song away in a drawer andforget about it."
Archie lit another cigarette.
"I'm a jolly old child in these matters, old lad," he said, "but whydon't you take it direct to a publisher? As a matter of fact, if itwould be any use to you, I was foregathering with a music-publisher onlythe other day. A bird of the name of Blumenthal. He was lunching in herewith a pal of mine, and we got tolerably matey. Why not let me tool youround to the office to-morrow and play it to him?"
"No, thanks. Much obliged, but I'm not going to play that melody inany publisher's office with his hired gang of Tin-Pan Alley composerslistening at the keyhole and taking notes. I'll have to wait till I canfind somebody to sing it. Well, I must be going along. Glad to have seenyou again. Sooner or later I'll take you to hear that high note sung bysomeone in a way that'll make your spine tie itself in knots round theback of your neck."
"I'll count the days," said Archie, courteously. "Pip-pip!"
Hardly had the door closed behind the composer when it opened again toadmit Lucille.
"Hallo, light of my soul!" said Archie, rising and embracing his wife."Where have you been all the afternoon? I was expecting you this many anhour past. I wanted you to meet--"
"I've been having tea with a girl down in Greenwich Village. I couldn'tget away before. Who was that who went out just as I came along thepassage?"
"Chappie of the name of Hymack. I met him in France. A composer and whatnot."
"We seem to have been moving in artistic circles this afternoon. Thegirl I went to see is a singer. At least, she wants to sing, but gets noencouragement."
"Precisely the same with my bird. He wants to get his music sung butnobody'll sing it. But I didn't know you knew any Greenwich Villagewarblers, sunshine of my home. How did you meet this female?"
Lucille sat down and gazed forlornly at him with her big grey eyes. Shewas registering something, but Archie could not gather what it was.
"Archie, darling, when you married me you undertook to share my sorrows,didn't you?"
"Absolutely! It's all in the book of words. For better or for worse, insickness and in health, all-down-set-'em-up-in-the-other-alley. Regulariron-clad contract!"
"Then share 'em!" said Lucille. "Bill's in love again!"
Archie blinked.
"Bill? When
you say Bill, do you mean Bill? Your brother Bill? Mybrother-in-law Bill? Jolly old William, the son and heir of theBrewsters?"
"I do."
"You say he's in love? Cupid's dart?"
"Even so!"
"But, I say! Isn't this rather--What I mean to say is, the lad's anabsolute scourge! The Great Lover, what! Also ran, Brigham Young, andall that sort of thing! Why, it's only a few weeks ago that he wasmoaning brokenly about that vermilion-haired female who subsequentlyhooked on to old Reggie van Tuyl!"
"She's a little better than that girl, thank goodness. All the same, Idon't think Father will approve."
"Of what calibre is the latest exhibit?"
"Well, she comes from the Middle West, and seems to be trying to betwice as Bohemian as the rest of the girls down in Greenwich Village.She wears her hair bobbed and goes about in a kimono. She's probablyread magazine stories about Greenwich Village, and has modelled herselfon them. It's so silly, when you can see Hicks Corners sticking out ofher all the time."
"That one got past me before I could grab it. What did you say she hadsticking out of her?"
"I meant that anybody could see that she came from somewhere out in thewilds. As a matter of fact, Bill tells me that she was brought up inSnake Bite, Michigan."
"Snake Bite? What rummy names you have in America! Still, I'll admitthere's a village in England called Nether Wallop, so who am I to castthe first stone? How is old Bill? Pretty feverish?"
"He says this time it is the real thing."
"That's what they all say! I wish I had a dollar for everytime--Forgotten what I was going to say!" broke off Archie, prudently."So you think," he went on, after a pause, "that William's latest isgoing to be one more shock for the old dad?"
"I can't imagine Father approving of her."
"I've studied your merry old progenitor pretty closely," said Archie,"and, between you and me, I can't imagine him approving of anybody!"
"I can't understand why it is that Bill goes out of his way to pickthese horrors. I know at least twenty delightful girls, all pretty andwith lots of money, who would be just the thing for him; but he sneaksaway and goes falling in love with someone impossible. And the worstof it is that one always feels one's got to do one's best to see himthrough."
"Absolutely! One doesn't want to throw a spanner into the works ofLove's young dream. It behoves us to rally round. Have you heard thisgirl sing?"
"Yes. She sang this afternoon."
"What sort of a voice has she got?"
"Well, it's--loud!"
"Could she pick a high note off the roof and hold it till the janitorcame round to lock up the building for the night?"
"What on earth do you mean?"
"Answer me this, woman, frankly. How is her high note? Pretty lofty?"
"Why, yes."
"Then say no more," said Archie. "Leave this to me, my dear old betterfour-fifths! Hand the whole thing over to Archibald, the man who neverlets you down. I have a scheme!"
As Archie approached his suite on the following afternoon he heardthrough the closed door the drone of a gruff male voice; and, going in,discovered Lucille in the company of his brother-in-law. Lucille, Archiethought, was looking a trifle fatigued. Bill, on the other hand, was ingreat shape. His eyes were shining, and his face looked so like that ofa stuffed frog that Archie had no difficulty in gathering that he hadbeen lecturing on the subject of his latest enslaver.
"Hallo, Bill, old crumpet!" he said.
"Hallo, Archie!"
"I'm so glad you've come," said Lucille. "Bill is telling me all aboutSpectatia."
"Who?"
"Spectatia. The girl, you know. Her name is Spectatia Huskisson."
"It can't be!" said Archie, incredulously.
"Why not?" growled Bill.
"Well, how could it?" said Archie, appealing to him as a reasonable man."I mean to say! Spectatia Huskisson! I gravely doubt whether there issuch a name."
"What's wrong with it?" demanded the incensed Bill. "It's a darned sightbetter name than Archibald Moffam."
"Don't fight, you two children!" intervened Lucille, firmly. "It's agood old Middle West name. Everybody knows the Huskissons of Snake Bite,Michigan. Besides, Bill calls her Tootles."
"Pootles," corrected Bill, austerely.
"Oh, yes, Pootles. He calls her Pootles."
"Young blood! Young blood!" sighed Archie.
"I wish you wouldn't talk as if you were my grandfather."
"I look on you as a son, laddie, a favourite son!"
"If I had a father like you--!"-"Ah, but you haven't,young-feller-me-lad, and that's the trouble. If you had, everythingwould be simple. But as your actual father, if you'll allow me tosay so, is one of the finest specimens of the human vampire-bat incaptivity, something has got to be done about it, and you're dashedlucky to have me in your corner, a guide, philosopher, and friend,full of the fruitiest ideas. Now, if you'll kindly listen to me for amoment--"
"I've been listening to you ever since you came in."
"You wouldn't speak in that harsh tone of voice if you knew all!William, I have a scheme!"
"Well?"
"The scheme to which I allude is what Maeterlinck would call alallapaloosa!"
"What a little marvel he is!" said Lucille, regarding her husbandaffectionately. "He eats a lot of fish, Bill. That's what makes him soclever!"
"Shrimps!" diagnosed Bill, churlishly.
"Do you know the leader of the orchestra in the restaurant downstairs?"asked Archie, ignoring the slur.
"I know there IS a leader of the orchestra. What about him?"
"A sound fellow. Great pal of mine. I've forgotten his name--"
"Call him Pootles!" suggested Lucille.
"Desist!" said Archie, as a wordless growl proceeded from his strickenbrother-in-law. "Temper your hilarity with a modicum of reserve. Thisgirlish frivolity is unseemly. Well, I'm going to have a chat with thischappie and fix it all up."
"Fix what up?"
"The whole jolly business. I'm going to kill two birds with one stone.I've a composer chappie popping about in the background whose oneambish. is to have his pet song sung before a discriminating audience.You have a singer straining at the leash. I'm going to arrange with thisegg who leads the orchestra that your female shall sing my chappie'ssong downstairs one night during dinner. How about it? Is it or is itnot a ball of fire?"
"It's not a bad idea," admitted Bill, brightening visibly. "I wouldn'thave thought you had it in you."
"Why not?"
"Well--"
"It's a capital idea," said Lucille. "Quite out of the question, ofcourse."
"How do you mean?"
"Don't you know that the one thing Father hates more than anything elsein the world is anything like a cabaret? People are always coming tohim, suggesting that it would brighten up the dinner hour if he hadsingers and things, and he crushes them into little bits. He thinksthere's nothing that lowers the tone of a place more. He'll bite you inthree places when you suggest it to him!"
"Ah! But has it escaped your notice, lighting system of my soul, thatthe dear old dad is not at present in residence? He went off to fish atLake What's-its-name this morning."
"You aren't dreaming of doing this without asking him?"
"That was the general idea."
"But he'll be furious when he finds out."
"But will he find out? I ask you, will he?"
"Of course he will."
"I don't see why he should," said Bill, on whose plastic mind the planhad made a deep impression.
"He won't," said Archie, confidently. "This wheeze is for one nightonly. By the time the jolly old guv'nor returns, bitten to the bone bymosquitoes, with one small stuffed trout in his suit-case, everythingwill be over and all quiet once more along the Potomac. The scheme isthis. My chappie wants his song heard by a publisher. Your girl wantsher voice heard by one of the blighters who get up concerts and all thatsort of thing. No doubt you know such a bird, whom you could
invite tothe hotel for a bit of dinner?"
"I know Carl Steinburg. As a matter of fact, I was thinking of writingto him about Spectatia."
"You're absolutely sure that IS her name?" said Archie, his voice stilltinged with incredulity. "Oh, well, I suppose she told you so herself,and no doubt she knows best. That will be topping. Rope in your paland hold him down at the table till the finish. Lucille, the beautifulvision on the sky-line yonder, and I will be at another tableentertaining Maxie Blumenthal"
"Who on earth is Maxie Blumenthal?" asked Lucille.
"One of my boyhood chums. A music-publisher. I'll get him to come along,and then we'll all be set. At the conclusion of the performance Miss--"Archie winced--"Miss Spectatia Huskisson will be signed up for a fortyweeks' tour, and jovial old Blumenthal will be making all arrangementsfor publishing the song. Two birds, as I indicated before, with onestone! How about it?"
"It's a winner," said Bill.
"Of course," said Archie, "I'm not urging you. I merely make thesuggestion. If you know a better 'ole go to it!"
"It's terrific!" said Bill.
"It's absurd!" said Lucille.
"My dear old partner of joys and sorrows," said Archie, wounded,"we court criticism, but this is mere abuse. What seems to be thedifficulty?"
"The leader of the orchestra would be afraid to do it."
"Ten dollars--supplied by William here--push it over, Bill, oldman--will remove his tremors."
"And Father's certain to find out."
"Am I afraid of Father?" cried Archie, manfully. "Well, yes, I am!" headded, after a moment's reflection. "But I don't see how he can possiblyget to know."
"Of course he can't," said Bill, decidedly. "Fix it up as soon as youcan, Archie. This is what the doctor ordered."