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Updated: June 5, 2025
But who will ever take such good care of me, Steve? And please get dressed; we are invited to the Marcus Baynes for dinner. They have a wonderful poet from Greenwich Village who is spending the holidays with them long hair, green-velvet jacket, cigar-box ukulele, and all. A darling! And I am going to take Monster because he does black-and-white sketches and I want one of my ittey, bittey dirl."
"Though just the same I'd like most to death to have just one go at that squarehead Hansen." He smiled with pleasure at the thought. "Say, let's forget it all now, an' you sing me 'Harvest Days' on that dinky what-you-may-call-it." When she had complied, accompanying herself on the ukulele, she suggested his weird "Cowboy's Lament."
And here she was come to thirty, with fudge and cheese straws and the ukulele still bounding her mental horizon, yet looking far above her station to one of Oswald's serious magnitude. I never have made out what she saw in him. But then we never do. She used to kid about him and kid him, for that matter. She'd say to me: "He does care frightfully about himself, doesn't he?"
Though he did not know it, he had drowsed the whole day through and only just awakened to call for his ukulele and light a cigarette at Polly's hand. But the ukulele lay idle on his arm, and though the pine logs crackled in the huge fireplace he shivered and took note of the cold. "It's a good sign," he said, unaware that the faintness of his voice drew the heads of his listeners closer.
Don't you think you two might be happy together?" Constance smiled again, and Louise warmed perceptibly. Louise was the least friendly of the three Littell girls. "I'll let you play my ukulele," offered Constance eagerly. "Let me. She doesn't know a ukulele from a music box," said Bobby, with sisterly frankness. "Come on, girls, let's go up and see our rooms."
But whenever he'd ask she would put the loud pedal on the ukulele and burst into some beachy song about You and I Together in the Moonlight, Love. Even the Prof got curious and demanded how she had done what real brains had failed to pull off and got the same noisy answer. Later he said he had been wrong to ask.
Then the procession of subdued husbands would follow, and conglomerate menus would be spread on a series of tea tables throughout the rooms, with Sezanne smoking her small amber-stemmed pipe and describing her sojourn in a Turkish harem while Gay picked minor chords on his ukulele.
They bob along like drunken beetles. Once in a blue moon one becomes aware of people. Usually the crowds and their endless faces are a background. They circle around one the way ripples circle around a stone that has fallen into the water. The torments, elation of others; the ambitions, defeats of others; the bedlam of others who the piano. A cornet, probably. Or a ukulele.
Here was Miss Lydia, cool and negligent on the porch, like she'd never had a care in the world; fresh dressed in something white and blue, with her niftiest hammock stockings, and tinkling the ukulele in a bored and petulant manner. "Did you open it?" I says as I went in. "Open it?" she says, kind of blank. "Oh, you mean that silly old trunk! Yes, I believe I did. At least I think I did."
The next morning it was boots and saddles, and with cow-boys and pack-horses we climbed to Ukulele, a mountain ranch- house, the altitude of which, fifty-five hundred feet, gives a severely temperate climate, compelling blankets at night and a roaring fireplace in the living-room.
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