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THE NEW YORKER

H, Mr. Presby, I’m so glad you've come at last. We've been looking forward to this week-end for ever so long. A. J. has come home so often without you, after saying you were coming that I can hardly believe you're here, Yes—I know—business is so—yes—so busy and confining. Oh you men—nothing on your minds but business.

“Well, first of all you must meet our little flock, A. J. told me you were crazy about kiddies, didn’t you A. J.? Come here dears. Careful now about our good manners. This is Junior, he’s our oldest. Of course he’s named for A. J. Isn’t it funny, I’ve called my husband A. J. ever since we were first married? I never think of calling him Albert, A. J.’s more of a pet name than anything else, I guess. Anyway this is little Albert J. and we call him Junior.

And this is Sister. She′s nearly seven, Her real name is Emily Lillian but A. J. insists we shall call her Sister. Then this is Brother. I just told A. J. if he wanted to call Emily Lillian, Sister, I intended to call Donald—that’s his real name—Brother. I know you don’t blame me, do you Mr. Presby?

“And finally this is Lover, our baby. He's nearly three, but our baby just the same. His really-truly name is Douglas but Dudla is as near as he ever comes to it. His Gobba, as he calls his Grandmother—Oh dear, I’m so scared about his precious adenoids—nicknamed him Lover before his first birthday because ever since he was just a baby, he has been so cuddly and loving. Say ‘How-do,’ Lover. Isn’t he darling.”—

Limousines, taxi-cabs, busses, chorus girls, dowagers, errand boys, débutantes, men-about-town, advertising agents, sight-seers, actors, art dealers, foreign lecturers, college boys, moving picture stars, diplomats, policemen, hat shops, jewelers, hotels, banks, picture galleries, milliners, interior decorators, book shops, photographers, restaurants, clubs, department stores, an occasional private residence.

“—sailing on the Mauretania next Tuesday.”

“—there’s that girl that dances in the Follies.”

“—no, but I’m going to-morrow night.”

“—will you just look at those stockings.”

“—we can cross now.”

“—I′ll make Tom get it for me.”

“—exactly like that hat of Violet′s.”

“—I forget what his name is.”

“—no, she’s getting a divorce.”


 * Poor girls, so few get their wages!
 * So few get their sin, darn it!

I have not the inclination nor the ability to write fiction, I was about to say that I hadn’t the time; but that is the greatest fiction there is, for I waste enough time in a year, telling my fiction-writing friends plots, to write two long novels and ten short stories myself.

Hereafter, however, I shall set my ideas down here, and any fiction writer who is pressed for plots may help himself.

English class in women’s college. Day’s discussion concerns redundancy. Each student required to cite example of redundancy. One girl writes “Foolish virgin.” She is expelled from college.

A man who has great fear of the letter of the law. As a child he always heeded the Keep Off the Grass signs. If the sign in the car said Passengers Are Not Allowed to Ride on the Platform, he would walk rather than violate what he considered the law. He never disregarded a No Parking or a No Smoking sign. Rather than use a pass that said Not Transferable he would pay his way, or forego the ball game.

One morning, after twelve years of riding to his office in an elevator that bore a sign reading Conversation with the Elevator Man Forbidden he said, as he was alighting, “It’s a nice day.” “Sure is,” responded the elevator man.

Noticing that the elevator did not drop to the ground, and that the building did not immediately crumble, he came emboldened. In a few days he was smoking in spite of the printed admonition. He rode on the platform of a subway car; he parked his automobile next to a No Parking sign; etc. Nothing untoward happened, and he was happier than he ever had been.

Encouraged by his success, he works up from signs to the Decalogue. The First, the Second … he has just shattered the Sixth Commandment.

He is at a party, being introduced.

“I want you to meet Mrs. Rosenthal,” says the hostess.—F. P. A.

Of program novelties the gem Is “Bed Time Tales” at 8 a. m. A daily feature, new and bright, For weary souls who work all night.

—Heading in the Herald Tribune. The start of a long-needed crusade.