The moon shines bright
on Charlie Chaplin
His boots are cracking,
for want of blacking
And his little baggy trousers,
they want mending
Before we send him
to the Dardanelles

That this was a popular sentiment was obvious, in that it was sung though the last line didn’t even rhyme.

Chaplin counted up boxes of chocolate, charity events, war bonds, backroad messages from the War Office telling him to stay where he was. You could argue with committees and letters to the editor, but not with the voices of actual soldiers. Making a movie starring a dog didn’t seem to be a bright thing to do. He had no idea what would happen to him.

A few days after his breakfast with Doug, Chaplin walked into the studio, tossed his cap to his valet, and announced I Should Worry was over; instead, they were going to make a film called Wiggle and Son. It was going to be extraordinarily touching. The dogs should all be returned to the pound. Edna’s hair should be done in ringlets, and Chaplin would do it himself. Did Chaplin want to make another positive of Her Friend the Bandit for reissuance? No, he didn’t—there was no time for that. The construction department should make a saloon. It should be called the Green Lantern, and there should be an orchestra pit. The property master should get tables, chairs, a full set of bottles and taps for the bartender, and instruments for a ratty jazz band. Chaplin wanted a real proscenium and real curtain, and a fire curtain and real walls, too, and the technical director needed to stop complaining and obey the property master. Syd should go into Makeup and wait there for further instruction.

With his company thus engaged, he sat Edna down and began to comb her hair. She asked him how he’d been, and he told her of story ideas he had, and she watched him in a hand mirror that she held up and turned to follow him as he moved back and forth among the makeup table, the hot comb, the lengths of false hair, and herself. He sensed she wanted to say something, and his eyes met hers in the mirror.

“Are you being good?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said, hesitantly. She continued to look at him as if he hadn’t said the password yet.

Her eyes were welling up. “And careful?”

“Careful? What do you mean?” When she said she thought she needed to get a tissue, he called after her, “Edna, really, what do you mean? Where are you going, Lovelock?”

And then Prince Henry of Greece arrived.