  H.R. at that very moment was in his office. He had prepared a few model epistles for his Public Sentiment Corps to write to the newspapers, asking whether the composition of the ideal hunger-appeaser had been printed and when the tickets for the Mammoth Hunger Feast would be offered for sale. This would keep alive interest in his plans and in the personnel of his public commissions. People had grown to believe that all sorts of commissions were necessary not only to free but even to intelligent government. He had his list of names ready for the reporters when they called. "The announcement as to how we shall sell the tickets—each at twenty-five cents—to pay for a wonderful meal for a hungry person and a coupon attached, with ten thousand dollars in cash if you have brains—will be made to-morrow." "But—" expostulated a fat reporter. "To-morrow!" said H.R., feeling strong enough now to be nasty to the press. Either he was or he was not yet News. He would decide that matter for all time. "Do you think we are your hired press agents to—" angrily began the fat one. "I don't give a damn if I never see you again. I don't care what you print or what you don't print, nor Cursing the absurd libel laws which prevent all newspapers from printing the truth, the fat reporter took his list of names and his leave at one and the same time. You can't treat even frauds humorously nowadays. H.R. had won again! He summoned Andrew Barrett and said to him: "Get this sandwich out to-morrow. It is one of our own. S.A.S.A. account; all-day job." "The men objected to the other—" "Seven thirty-cent tickets to Weinpusslacher's apiece," interrupted H.R., impatiently. "Get them from Weinie. He owes us three thousand." "Great! Greatissimo!" shouted young Mr. Barrett. He hated to pay out real money, and the members were getting ugly. They wanted pay for everything, even for sandwiching for the Cause. "Go to the costumer of the Metropolitan Opera House, to Madame Pauline, and to Monsieur Raquin of the Rue de la Paix who is stopping at the HÔtel Regina, and to the fashion editor of the Ladies' Home Mentor, and ask each to send us a design for a ticket-seller's costume. They will be worn by perfectly beautiful girls. There will be one hundred of them. I myself vote for the Perfect Thirty-eight, about five feet seven and one-half tall. My model of perfection is Miss Goodchild. Get busy. And, Barrett—" "Yes, sir." "Here is the text for the sandwich." H.R. handed a sheet of paper to his lieutenant, who read thereon: ONE HUNDRED GIRLSWILL SELL TICKETSTO THEMAMMOTH HUNGER FEASTTHEY ARE THE ONLYPERFECTLY BEAUTIFUL GIRLSIN ALL NEW YORKLOOK FOR THEM!LOOK AT THEM!PERFECTLY BEAUTIFUL!O.K. "Say, H.R., this is the master-stroke! commented Andrew Barrett. "To-morrow," said H.R. coldly, "one hundred sandwiches on the Avenue. One of them in front of Goodchild's all day. White canvas. Heliotrope letters. Pea-green border. Design number eleven. Also insert this ad. in all the papers." This was the copy of the advertisement: Wanted: Perfectly Beautiful Girls. Not merely pretty, nor merely young, nor merely hopeful, but Perfectly Beautiful! Object: To make New-Yorkers thank Providence they live in the same town. Apply H.R., Allied Arts Bldg. Andrew Barrett read it and left the room shaking his head, unable to speak coherently. H.R. looked up a few addresses in the Directory and went out. He called on the president of the National Academy of Design, on the Professor of Anatomy of the College of Physicians and Surgeons, on the president of the National Sculpture Society, the president of the Magazine Cover Designers' Guild, the president of the Equal Suffrage League, who was Mrs. Vandergilt, and Professor Tangolino, late of the Argentine Republic. These, with H.R., would constitute the Public Beauty Commission and would decide who was perfectly beautiful. To each he pointed out that the noble cause of charity must be advanced. Also an American standard of perfect beauty would be established for all time, their decision being unappealable. The artists instantly approved the plan, the method being artistic and therefore strictly logical. The president of the Suffrage League at first demurred. She objected to sex being dragged into the affair, and, besides, mere physical beauty too long had been accorded a disproportionate importance in social and political matters. It degraded a sex fit for higher things than to be man's plaything. H.R., however, earnestly pointed out that it involved the recognition of the superior salesmanship of women—not saleswomanship, but salesmanship, for while man was no better than woman in the conduct of the government or anything else, woman was infinitely the superior of man in many things. He finally induced Mrs. Vandergilt and the others to serve on the commission. But the damned newspapers, he warned them, would print names and would, alas! devote much space to their deliberations. They said that the regrettable publicity would not stop them from doing their duty. He returned to his office and prepared a series of questions for the papers to ask him. This is the most intelligent form of newspaper interview because it is always printed. Answers to the reporters' own questions always appear in the papers when the reporters themselves have to supply them. These were the questions—which later on the Public Sentiment Corps answered with judiciously varied ayes and noes. 1. Were there one hundred Perfectly Beautiful Girls in New York? 2. Would there be a second Judgment of Paris? 3. Was the Public Beauty Commission really competent? 4. How many points for complexion and coloring? For teeth? For figure? For hands and feet and hair? 5. Would not a uniform garment, on the lines of Annette Kellerman's bathing-suit, be the only fair way? 6. Would the wives, daughters, or fiancÉes of the members of the commission be hors concours? 7. At what age did a girl cease to be a Girl? 8. Should Morality be allowed to interfere with Art? When the reporters called at the S.A.S.A. offices H.R. gave to each a typewritten set of the questions and said: "The commission will hold meetings. They will be public to the applicants. Nobody else, excepting male reporters, will be allowed to be present. And you might add, gentlemen, that the commission considers the requirements for success so uncommon as to render unnecessary the lease of the Madison Square Garden to hold the candidates. The sessions will be held in a room not much larger than this room. And," added the diabolic H.R., "we have no fear of overcrowding. They have to be perfectly beautiful girls, Though all reporters are human, most of them are grateful. They duly published the "rumor" and Grace's latest photographs. |
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