Page 68 - 1922 Hartridge
P. 68
as if it had been greased with Johnson’s prepared wax. But he had the
colossal strength of Lionel Strongfort, and all the people of Advertisio held him in great awe.
One night as Cutex lay resting, sipj)ing her Welch’s grape juice, which it was her custom to take every night before retiring, there was a knock at the door. She pulled her Indian-head sheet over her shoulder and called in notes
clear as Sonora, “Enter.” Her maid entered and handed her a small note
of Crane’s paper written upon with a W’aterman’s pen, bearing these words; “Sweet as Jello:
“Do you love me? There’s a reason. I want you to elope with me tonight m my twin-six Packard; no fear of skidding, for we have Kelly- Spiingheld tnes. \\ ith many Djer-kisses. H oubigant.”
'I'his note was mild—but it satisfied Fatima. She was as peppy as if slie had been eating Fleischman’s yeast. She jumped out of bed, slipi)ed on some
hole-proof stockings, and Keds, and a Butterick-pattern dress of Skinner satin. She rubbed her hands with Honey-Almond cream so they wouldn’t chap in the night air and slipped a Dorin in her pocket. She was ready !
She opened the window and climbed out. There she met her lover instan
taneously as Postum. They drove out into the night of Coty’s fragrance, speeding towards love and happiness. H. J o h n s o n , ’23.
The Boarding School Nightmare-Mice!
What hope is there left for us? These horrible creatures are insatiable. They give us no moment of peace. A veritable host surrounds our dwelling
place.^ They assail our strongholds, climbing up our liedclothes and gnawing ferociously at our toes. They pollute our very cpiarter-
pound and leave us weak and starving, unable to defencf ourselves. The\}' mock us nightly, dancing on the tiles of the fireplace and rattling their toenails, and they charge upon us across the floor in battle array. \\T are congealed with terror. AT cannot defend ourselves. The Gods are against
us, for though we slay them by thousands and their bodies strew the ground beneath our windows, yet more thousands rise from their ashes. * *
Di, talern terris az'crtite pestem!
\]7 5
64