Jerome made off as soon as he could—or rather as soon as the intense
delight of this new type of excitement permitted him to think of
it—and sent a cable to his family. Mr. Curry paid him a month’s
salary in advance, so that he wasn’t quite penniless. Indeed, he felt
himself rolling in riches. He supplied himself with a small trunk and
considerable necessary apparel. In a shop window where he saw them
displayed Jerome hesitated over the necessity of a new clip; but he
astutely argued that since Lili had snatched off his old clip and flung
it to sea, evidently there was something about clips—or at any rate
as associated with himself—which made sophisticated people laugh; the
temptation was stoutly resisted. He purchased a haircut, too, which
helped enormously; and went about smoking his short-stemmed pipe—not
exactly jauntily, as in the old days when he thought he knew so much and
really knew so little, but rather in a resolute, sober manner, which
seemed proclaiming at least one highly important milestone passed.
Everybody was furiously busy, getting settled and trying to see the
sights and do the required rehearsing and necessary shopping all at the
same time. As for the sight-seeing, that could no doubt have waited;
but in the case of most of Mr. Curry’s songbirds, temperament dictated
otherwise. And it frequently happened, during the first days in Honolulu,
that members of the troupe would bow to each other, sometimes a shade
haughtily but usually with whole-hearted zest, from carriages in which
they were being driven everywhere.
Jerome and Lili did a little sight-seeing together, though (being not, as
one has already seen, quite a type) she very sensibly wouldn’t hear of
his hiring a carriage, but insisted that “Gawd knows I’m not too elegant
to ride on a street car _yet_!”