Seems that Lottie and another girl were talking in one of the bedrooms regarding the “cat” who had vamped the temporary affections of Lottie’s former beau. A third girl was lying, supposedly asleep. She arose suddenly and challenged, in behalf of her vamping friend what Lottie had said. Then the riot started. One of our well-known artists stated next day that it was the best he had seen since Young George and Steve Dalton first met at Jack Doyle’s. Anyone taking a good look at Lottie would opine that the girl, when angry, might be worth a bet in the real money book. Not much has been heard of Jack Pickford since he became mixed up in the war time mess. It was no Hollywood secret that Jack was not an over welcome visitor at the home of Mary and her mother for some time. Things may have been calmed over since Mary settled down with Doug, or rather tried to settle down with him. Olive Thomas, Jack’s wife, recently returned from New York and Jack met her with a Whiz Bang of a new car. Jack claims it cost him bucks to the number of ten thou. Speaking of automobiles, Roscoe Arbuckle recently received a specially designed motor car that is a humdinger. The price is reported at $25,000. If it didn’t cost that much it sure looks it. Thousands of people viewed the monstrosity for a week in the windows of the motor works where it was turned out. Of course the machine is simply to be used as an ad for the prolific Fat. Some of the last words in autos have been seen around here, but they all faded to a sickly, measly brown when Arbuckle’s came into prominence. Arbuckle says he intends dazzling Broadway with it. What may help some, if he uses it in New York, is the license number, which was displayed while the car stood on exhibition here. The number was “606.” “United Artists,” the “Big Four” and “Associated Directors” are familiar terms here. Speaking of United Artists, we must pause at mention of Charlie Chaplin and Mildred Harris. They are not united, not so anyone can notice. Shortly after their marriage last year, the doll-like little Mildred and her mother were the observed of all observers at the fashionable St. Catherine hotel, the Wrigley’s island palace at Catalina. Wistful indeed, appeared the little girl as she sat day after day gazing across the Pacific blue whence fly the famous Chaplin hydroplanes from the mainland. The hydroplanes are a venture of Sid Chaplin. Charlie is not in on the deal, though he makes the air trip occasionally. But never did Charlie appear to the knowledge of the vastly interested hotel habitues. Ever with her slender, keen looking mother, the bride waited in vain for her Lochinvar. Occasionally she danced with a visiting picture personage. But Charlie—he came not.