“Sure, I know,” said the other. “But every picture has got to be a subject or it ain’t a regular picture, you understand. Was this here picture a marine, or a landscape, or a still life, or a portrait—or what?” “How should I know?” said the puzzled ex-buttonholer. “To me a picture is a picture! This here picture now didn’t have no name. It was a picture of three fellers. One feller had a fife and one feller had a drum and one feller had a headache!” § 9 Protecting the Gentler Sex A certain young lady who gives interpretative dances in rather scanty costume was engaged to go to a staid community in New England and dance before the local dramatic and literary society. The day after her appearance the entertainment committee—all women—held a meeting to discuss the affair of the night before. Several had been heard, when one member raised her voice. “Personally,” she said, “I enjoyed it ever so much. To me it was most artistic and symbolic and everything. But if you ask me, I must say this: It certainly was no place to take a nervous man!” § 10 Not at All Singular An American journalist in poor health spent the summer of 1910 at a resort in Southern France. The proprietor was an English woman, and all of the other guests were English too. They were friendly and kind to the invalid—all excepting one very austere and haughty lady. On his first day as a guest at the house he heard this lady say to the landlady: “I distinctly understood that you did not admit Americans as lodgers here, and I wish to know why you have broken the rule.” The other woman explained that the stranger had come with good references and that he seemed a quiet, well-mannered person who hadn’t offered to scalp anybody and who knew how to eat with a knife and fork. Nevertheless the complaining matron was not at all pleased. She took frequent opportunity of saying unkind things about the States and those who lived in the States. The sick American maintained a polite silence. Finally one day at the dinner table she addressed him with direct reference to a certain ghastly murder case which even after the lapse of all these years will be remembered by most readers to-day. “What do you Yankees think of your fellow-American, Doctor Crippen?” she inquired. “We think he’s crazy,” said the American. “How singular!” said the lady, arching her eyebrows. “Not at all,” said the American. “He must have been crazy to kill an American woman in order to marry an English one.” § 11 Strictly in Confidence The time was in the early hours of a new day; the place was the lobby of a hotel; the principal character was a well-dressed gentleman in an alcoholic fog, who had come in and registered for the night a few minutes earlier. Now, half dressed, he descended the stairway from the second floor and stood swaying slightly in front of the desk.