 | Tales of the jazz age |  |
IV
This paradise of frail foundation was broken into by
the sounds of a general ingress to the ballroom; the
cotillion was beginning. Betty and the camel joined
the crowd, her brown hand resting lightly on his
shoulder, defiantly symbolizing her complete adoption
of him.
When they entered the couples were already seating
themselves at tables round the walls, and Mrs. Townsend,
resplendent as a super bareback rider with
rather too rotund calves, was standing in the centre
with the ringmaster in charge of arrangements. At
a signal to the band every one rose and began to
dance.
"Isn't it just slick!" sighed Betty. "Do you think
you can possibly dance?"
Perry nodded enthusiastically. He felt suddenly
exuberant. After all, he was here incognito talking to
his love—he could wink patronizingly at the world.
So Perry danced the cotillion. I say danced, but that
is stretching the word far beyond the wildest dreams of
the jazziest terpsichorean. He suffered his partner to
put her hands on his helpless shoulders and pull him
here and there over the floor while he hung his huge
head docilely over her shoulder and made futile dummy
motions with his feet. His hind legs danced in a manner
all their own, chiefly by hopping first on one foot and
then on the other. Never being sure whether dancing
was going on or not, the hind legs played safe by going
through a series of steps whenever the music started
playing. So the spectacle was frequently presented of
the front part of the camel standing at ease and the rear
keeping up a constant energetic motion calculated to
rouse a sympathetic perspiration in any soft-hearted
observer.
He was frequently favored. He danced first with a
tall lady covered with straw who announced jovially
that she was a bale of hay and coyly begged him not to
eat her.
"I'd like to; you're so sweet," said the camel gallantly.
Each time the ringmaster shouted his call of "Men
up!" he lumbered ferociously for Betty with the cardboard
wienerwurst or the photograph of the bearded
lady or whatever the favor chanced to be. Sometimes
he reached her first, but usually his rushes were unsuccessful
and resulted in intense interior arguments.
"For Heaven's sake," Perry would snarl fiercely between
his clenched teeth, "get a little pep! I could
up."
"Well, gimme a little warnin' !"
"I did, darn you."
"I can't see a dog-gone thing in here."
"All you have to do is follow me. It's just like dragging
a load of sand round to walk with you."
"Maybe you wanta try back here."
"You shut up! If these people found you in this
room they'd give you the worst beating you ever had.
They'd take your taxi license away from you!"
Perry surprised himself by the ease with which he
made this monstrous threat, but it seemed to have a
soporific influence on his companion, for he gave out an
"aw gwan" and subsided into abashed silence.
The ringmaster mounted to the top of the piano and
waved his hand for silence.
"Prizes!" he cried. "Gather round!"
"Yea! Prizes!"
Self-consciously the circle swayed forward. The
rather pretty girl who had mustered the nerve to come
as a bearded lady trembled with excitement, thinking
to be rewarded for an evening's hideousness. The man
who had spent the afternoon having tattoo marks painted
on him skulked on the edge of the crowd, blushing furiously
when any one told him he was sure to get it.
"Lady and gent performers of this circus," announced
the ringmaster jovially, "I am sure we will all agree
that a good time has been had by all. We will now bestow
honor where honor is due by bestowing the prizes.
Mrs. Townsend has asked me to bestow the prizes.
Now, fellow performers, the first prize is for that lady
who has displayed this evening the most striking, becoming"—at
this point the bearded lady sighed resignedly—"and
original costume." Here the bale of
decision which has been agreed upon will be unanimous
with all here present. The first prize goes to Miss Betty
Medill, the charming Egyptian snake-charmer."
There was a burst of applause, chiefly masculine,
and Miss Betty Medill, blushing beautifully through her
olive paint, was passed up to receive her award. With
a tender glance the ringmaster handed down to her a
huge bouquet of orchids.
"And now," he continued, looking round him, "the
other prize is for that man who has the most amusing
and original costume. This prize goes without dispute
to a guest in our midst, a gentleman who is visiting here
but whose stay we all hope will be long and merry—in
short, to the noble camel who has entertained us all by
his hungry look and his brilliant dancing throughout
the evening."
He ceased and there was a violent clapping and yeaing,
for it was a popular choice. The prize, a large box
of cigars, was put aside for the camel, as he was anatomically
unable to accept it in person.
"And now," continued the ringmaster, "we will
wind up the cotillion with the marriage of Mirth to
Folly!
"Form for the grand wedding march, the beautiful
snake-charmer and the noble camel in front!"
Betty skipped forward cheerily and wound an olive
arm round the camel's neck. Behind them formed the
procession of little boys, little girls, country jakes, fat
ladies, thin men, sword-swallowers, wild men of Borneo,
and armless wonders, many of them well in their cups,
all of them excited and happy and dazzled by the flow
of light and color round them, and by the familiar faces,
strangely unfamiliar under bizarre wigs and barbaric
paint. The voluptuous chords of the wedding march
blend from the trombones and saxophones—and the
march began.
"Aren't you glad, camel?" demanded Betty sweetly
as they stepped off. "Aren't you glad we're going to
be married and you're going to belong to the nice snake-charmer
ever afterward?"
The camel's front legs pranced, expressing excessive
joy.
"Minister! Minister! Where's the minister?" cried
voices out of the revel. "Who's going to be the clergyman?"
The head of Jumbo, obese negro, waiter at the Tallyho
Club for many years, appeared rashly through a half-opened
pantry door.
"Oh, Jumbo!"
"Get old Jumbo. He's the fella!"
"Come on, Jumbo. How'bout marrying us a couple?"
"Yea!"
Jumbo was seized by four comedians, stripped of his
apron, and escorted to a raised daïs at the head of the
ball. There his collar was removed and replaced back
side forward with ecclesiastical effect. The parade separated
into two lines, leaving an aisle for the bride and
groom.
"Lawdy, man," roared Jumbo, "Ah got ole Bible 'n'
ev'ythin', sho nuff."
He produced a battered Bible from an interior pocket.
"Yea! Jumbo's got a Bible!"
"Razor, too, I'll bet!"
Together the snake-charmer and the camel ascended
the cheering aisle and stopped in front of Jumbo.
"Where's yo license, camel?"
A man near by prodded Perry.
"Give him a piece of paper. Anything'll do."
Perry fumbled confusedly in his pocket, found a
folded paper, and pushed it out through the camel's
mouth. Holding it upside down Jumbo pretended to
scan it earnestly.
"Dis yeah's a special camel's license," he said. "Get
you ring ready, camel."
Inside the camel Perry turned round and addressed
his worse half.
"Gimme a ring, for Heaven's sake!"
"I ain't got none," protested a weary voice.
"You have. I saw it."
"I ain't goin' to take it offen my hand."
"If you don't I'll kill you."
There was a gasp and Perry felt a huge affair of
rhinestone and brass inserted into his hand.
Again he was nudged from the outside.
"Speak up!"
"I do!" cried Perry quickly.
He heard Betty's responses given in a debonair tone,
and even in this burlesque the sound thrilled him.
Then he had pushed the rhinestone through a tear
in the camel's coat and was slipping it on her finger,
muttering ancient and historic words after Jumbo.
He didn't want any one to know about this ever. His
one idea was to slip away without having to disclose
his identity, for Mr. Tate had so far kept his secret
well. A dignified young man, Perry—and this might
injure his infant law practice.
"Embrace the bride!"
"Unmask, camel, and kiss her!"
Instinctively his heart beat high as Betty turned to
him laughingly and began to stroke the card-board
muzzle. He felt his self-control giving way, he
longed to surround her with his arms and declare his
identity and kiss those lips that smiled only a foot
them died off and a curious hush fell over the hall.
Perry and Betty looked up in surprise. Jumbo had
given vent to a huge "Hello!" in such a startled
voice that all eyes were bent on him.
"Hello!" he said again. He had turned round the
camel's marriage license, which he had been holding upside
down, produced spectacles, and was studying it
agonizingly.
"Why," he exclaimed, and in the pervading silence
his words were heard plainly by every one in the room,
"this yeah's a sho-nuff marriage permit."
"What?"
"Huh?"
"Say it again, Jumbo!"
"Sure you can read?"
Jumbo waved them to silence and Perry's blood
burned to fire in his veins as he realized the break he
had made.
"Yassuh!" repeated Jumbo. "This yeah's a sho-nuff
license, and the pa'ties concerned one of 'em is dis
yeah young lady, Miz Betty Medill, and th' other's
Mistah Perry Pa'khurst."
There was a general gasp, and a low rumble broke out
as all eyes fell on the camel. Betty shrank away
from him quickly, her tawny eyes giving out sparks
of fury.
"Is you Mistah Pa'khurst, you camel?"
Perry made no answer. The crowd pressed up closer
and stared at him. He stood frozen rigid with embarrassment,
his cardboard face still hungry and sardonic
as he regarded the ominous Jumbo.
"Y'all bettah speak up!" said Jumbo slowly,
"this yeah's a mighty serious mattah. Outside mah
duties at this club ah happens to be a sho-nuff minister
as though y'all is gone an' got married."
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