had Georgie Cohan, and I can't see that it
wrecked his life any. Now listen. I've got a song. It's my own. That
bit you played for me up at Gottschalk's is part of the chorus. But
it's the words that'll go big. They're great. It's an aviation song,
see? Airplane stuff. They're yelling that it's the airyoplanes
that're going to win this war. Well, I'll help 'em. This song is
going to put the aviator where he belongs. It's going to be the big
song of the war. It's going to make 'Tipperary' sound like a Moody and
Sankey hymn. It's the----"

Ruby lifted her heavy-lidded eyes and sent him a meaning look. "Get
down to business, Leon. I'll tell her how good you are while you're
making up."

He shot her a malignant glance, but took her advice. "Now what I've
been looking for for years is somebody who has got the music knack to
give me the accompaniment just a quarter of a jump ahead of my voice,
see? I can follow like a lamb, but I've got to have that feeler first.
It's more than a knack. It's a gift. And you've got it. I know it
when I see it. I want to get away from this night-club thing. There's
nothing in it for a man of my talent. I'm gunning for bigger game.
But they won't sign me without a tryout. And when they hear my voice
they---- Well, if me and you work together we can fool 'em. The song's
great. And my make-up's one of these aviation costumes to go with the
song, see? Pants tight in the knee and baggy on the hips. And a coat
with one of those full-skirt whaddyoucall-'ems----"

"Peplums," put in Ruby, placidly.

"Sure. And the girls'll be wild about it. And the words!" He began
to sing, gratingly off key:

Put on your sky clothes,
Put on your fly clothes,
And take a trip with me.
We'll sail so high
Up in the sky
We'll drop a bomb from Mercury.

"Why, that's awfully cute!" exclaimed Terry. Until now her opinion of
Mr. Sammett's talents had not been on a level with his.

"Yeah, but wait till you hear the second verse. That's only part of
the chorus. You see, he's supposed to be talking to a French girl. He
says:

'I'll parlez-vous in Francais plain
You'll answer, "Cher Americain,"
We'll both ...'"

The six-o'clock lights blazed up suddenly. A sad-looking group of men
trailed in and made for a corner where certain bulky, shapeless bundles
were soon revealed as those glittering and tortuous instruments which
go to make a jazz band.

"You better