“Mish’ Night Clerk,” he said politely but thickly, “I’ll ’ave requesh you gimme ’nozzer room.” “Well, sir,” stated the clerk, “we’re a little bit crowded. I don’t know whether I could shift you immediately. It’s pretty late, you know.” “Mish’ Night Clerk,” said the guest in a courteous but firm voice, “I repeat—mush gimme ’nozzer room.” “Isn’t the room I gave you comfortable?” parleyed the functionary. “Sheems be perf’ly so,” admitted the transient. “Nev’less, mush ash be moved ’mediately.” “Well, what’s the matter with your room?” demanded the pestered clerk. The stranger bent forward, and with the air of one imparting a secret addressed the clerk in a husky half whisper: “If you mush know, my room’s on fire!” § 12 He Didn’t Believe in Signs A fireman on duty behind the scenes of one of the big New York theatres and charged with the responsibility of seeing to it that the regulations were strictly obeyed back-stage, suffered a profound shock as he came around from behind a stack of scenery, just before the evening performance. Standing in the opposite wings was a salesman for an East Side cloak and suit concern, who had procured entrance via the stage door for the purpose of soliciting orders for his wares among the young ladies of the chorus. This person was vehemently puffing on a large, long, black, malignant-looking cigar. In three jumps the scandalized fireman had the violator by the arm. “Say,” he demanded, “what the hell do you mean, comin’ in here with that torch in your face? Don’t you see that sign right up over your head?” The trespasser’s eyes turned where the fireman’s finger pointed. “Sure, mister,” he said, “I see it.” “Well, can’t you read?” demanded the fireman. “Sure I can read,” admitted the other calmly. “Then read what it says there. Don’t you see what it says in big letters? It says—‘No Smoking.’” “Yes,” agreed the East Sider with a winning smile, “but it don’t say ‘Positively.’” § 13 Advice to Charlie Chaplin When General Neville, the hero of the defense of Verdun, made his tour of America he was the guest of honor at a big public reception in one of the Los Angeles hotels. Among those invited to greet the distinguished visitor were the more prominent members of the moving-picture colony. At the doors of General Neville’s suite Will Rogers met Charlie Chaplin. Chaplin, who in private life is a reserved and rather shy little man, was considerably fussed up over the prospect ahead of him. “I suppose we’re expected to say a few words to the General,” he confided to Rogers. “But for the life of me I can’t think of the best way to start the conversation.” Rogers gave to the problem a moment of earnest consideration. “Well,” he said, “you might ask him if he was in the war, and which side he was on.” § 14 What Aunt Myra Desired