all in!"

"Not quite," he said.

For a moment I did not understand him; then under my outraged eyes, and
within the hearing of my horrified ears a terrible thing occurred.

"Now, ladies!" yelled Mink, "all on for the fine-ally! Up-stage there,
you red-headed little spot-crabber! Mabel! Take the call! Now smile the
whole bloomin' bunch of you!"

What was he saying? I did not comprehend. I stared dully at the six
cave-girls as they grouped themselves in a semi-circle behind me.

Then, as one of them came up and unfolded a white strip of cloth behind
my head, the others drew from concealed pockets in their kilts of
cat-fur, little silk flags of all nations and began to wave them.

Paralyzed I turned my head. On the strip of white cloth, which the
tallest cave-girl was holding directly behind my head, was printed in
large black letters:

SUNSET SOAP

For one cataclysmic instant I gazed upon this hideous spectacle, then
with an unearthly cry I collapsed into the arms of the nicest looking
one.

[Illustration: "I collapsed into the arms of the nicest looking one."]

There is little more to say. Contrary to my fears the release of this
outrageous film did not injure my scientific standing. Modern science,
accustomed to proprietary testimonials, has become reconciled to such
things.

My appearance upon the films in the movies in behalf of Sunset Soap,
oddly enough, seemed to enhance my scientific reputation. Even such
austere purists as Guilford, the Cubist poet, congratulated me upon my
fearless independence of ethical tradition.

And I had lived to learn a gentler truth than that, for, the pretty girl
who had been cast for Cave-girl No. 3--But let that pass. _Adhibenda est
in jocando moderatio_.

Sweet are the uses of advertisement.

THE LADIES OF THE LAKE

I

At the suggestion of several hundred thousand ladies desiring to revel
and possibly riot in the saturnalia of equal franchise, the unnamed lakes
in that vast and little known region in Alaska bounded by the Ylanqui
River and the Thunder Mountains were now being inexorably named after
women.

It was a beautiful thought. Already several exquisite, lonely bits of
water, gem-set among the eternal peaks, mirrors for cloud and soaring
eagle, a glass for the moon as keystone to the towering arch of stars,
had been irrevocably labelled.

Already there was Lake Amelia Jones, Lake Sadie Dingleheimer, Lake Maggie
McFadden, and Lake Mrs. Gl