leading through politics where it was rough going and unprofitable
for years; through business where we still find it easy to sign,
possible to float and hard to pay a ninety-day note, and through
two country towns; one somewhat less than one hundred thousand
population, and Emporia slightly above ten thousand.

We are discovered in the prologue to the play in New York City wearing
our new silk suits to give New York a treat on a hot August day.
Not that we or any one else ever wears silk suits in any Wichita
or Emporia; silk suits are bought by Wichita people and Emporians
all over the earth to paralyse the natives of the various New Yorks.

In our pockets we hold commissions from the American Red Cross.
These commissions are sending us to Europe as inspectors with a
view to publicity later, one to speak for the Red Cross, the other
to write for it in America. We have been told by the Red Cross
authorities in Washington that we shall go immediately to the front
in France and that it will be necessary to have the protective
colouring of some kind of an army uniform. The curtain rises on a
store in 43rd Street in New York--perhaps the "Palace" or the "Hub"
or the "Model" or the "Army and Navy," where a young man is trying
to sell us a khaki coat, and shirt and trousers for $17.48. And
at that it seems a lot of money to pay for a rig which can be worn
at most only two months. But we compromise by making him throw in
another shirt and a service hat and we take the lot for $17.93 and
go away holding in low esteem the "pride, pomp and circumstance of
glorious war" as exemplified by these military duds. In our hearts
as we go off at R. U. E. will be seen a hatred for uniforms as
such, and particularly for phoney uniforms that mean nothing and
cost $18.00 in particular.