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Consistently Savoy and Brennan 117
“He said his wife heard about it and was going to sue for a divorce and name Savoy and Brennan. — Quick, Bert, there’s your cue.”
Mr. Savoy ran for it, Mr. Brennan following him with shorter steps; and it occurred to me that of the two Mr. Brennan would make the more ladylike impersonator, if that were the idea, which, of course, it isn’t.
Mrs. Jones was talking to me like a woman well paid and placed. “They’re wonderful,” she said. “They’re more modest than the girls,” she said. “They’ just like my own boys,” she said, “and when one of ’em gets to grumbling at the other, I say, ‘Maybe he’s nervous to-night, so don’t pay any attention,’ and smooth it over.”
“A girl was just telling me,” said Mr. Brennan when the couple came back, “that she and another girl passed a book store next door to a picture house where Douglas Fairbanks was being shown in ‘The Three Musketeers,’ and the book store window was full of the Dumas romance. ‘Ain’t the printing press wonderful?’ said the other girl — ‘they’ve got the book out already.’ Not so good, eh? You tell him, Bert, about the time you made Edison laugh.”
“It was at a banquet to the great inventor, and I did my darnedest, Ashton. And when I got back to the show I told one of the girls I didn’t give a damn — the very word I used — what the audience did for me to-night, because I’d just told one or two that made Thomas Edison laugh. ‘Did you know,’ she asked me, ‘that Edison’s deaf?’ — I don’t think so much of that, either. Purity is all right, but don’t overdo it. Not this season. Because this season, Ashton, is a very blase season for actor folk, and requires lots of pepper. If ever there was a season, Ashton, when I felt like