Loyola University Maryland - Evergreen / Green and Gray Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

Page 15 text:

THE LOYOLA ANNUAL 7 Presently he remembered his mission, and looking down to see if a sufficient amount of hosiery was exposed to view, he saw a small silver card-case lying at his feet. Fatty had never starred in either induction or deduction, but it did not take him thirty seconds to decide that it belonged to his fair admired. Without attracting any undue attention. Fatty quietly put the case in his pocket and alighted from the car. He wished to examine his prize in the privacy of his own apartment, and giving up all thoughts of parading on the Boulevard, he took the next car for home. Arriving there, he at last opened the case; and found reposing therein three five-dollar bills and a few visiting cards. The cards were inscribed with the name of “ Miss Florrie Wynan,’ “ Hotel Plimmon.” At last, thought our embryo Sherlock Holmes, he had a clue. And what a pretty name! Florrie just suited a dainty little blonde like her. Well, here is where Harold makes a hit. (I forgot to tell you that Fatty’s real name was Harold— yes! Flarold, even though he did weigh 210 in the shade.) That evening there was great consternation at the Frat house. Fatty wouldn’t eat one- third his usual amount. He even passed pie; and no fellov will pass pie unless he is really sick. Now if it had been anyone else, the fellows would have asked him who the girl v as. But with Fatty- Fatty was too substantial looking to be in love. Little did his fellow-students think of the very romantic spirit that dwelt in that plump body,— little recked they of the ardent fire that burned in Fatty’s noble breast, and was even now making him pass the pie he loved so dearly. Even the cher- ished after-dinner smoke v as forgotten. Blonde head— blue eyes — dimpled cheeks— and rose-bud mouth were continually dancing before his lovelorn eyes. At last he could endure it no longer.

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6 THE LOYOLA ANNUAL the pride of his collection and carefully saved for this occa- sion ; in pleasant contrast his pink and green tie next asserted itself, its broad ends permitted to flow with a studied care- lessness. Then came the suit proper, so to speak, and last but not least that hosiery display. They were red, there could be no doubt as to that, and such red — well, I won’t try to tell you anything further than that they were red. Fatty strolled nonchalantly down the street, and not deign- ing to notice the many sighs of admiration that came from the campus fence, pursued his solitary way. No admira- tion from the male population however great, could suffi- ciently compensate Fatty for his artistic efforts. Beau Brummel in his prime could not have walked on the same side of the street with Fatty to-day. Yes, Fatty had decided that female admiration must be his, and so he headed for the Boulevard. Boarding an F Street car, he sat down with the greatest pains, and then with a majestic slowness pro- ceeded to expose an immense amount of red socks. It was only when he handed the open-mouthed conductor his fare, that he became conscious of the fact that there was a very pretty young lady sitting opposite him. Immediately he be- gan to endeavor to charm the young lady. First he tried a smile, but strange to say it had no effect. Next the smile was coupled with a nod; still the fair damsel refused to be charmed. So, after many smiles and furtive nods. Fatty gave up in despair. At length the female attraction reached her des- tination and alighted from the car to pass, as it seemed, from the vision of tender-hearted Fatty, to be seen no more. The seat just vacated happened to be a choice one, so after strain- ing his neck to see the last of his soul-mate. Fatty moved over. Other girls came in, saw, and were conquered by the in- imitable Fatty; but no, our hero had eyes for none of them, for he was sad, sad with the sadness like unto a toothache.

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8 THE LOYOLA ANNUAL Soon the trolley deposited Fatty at “ The Plimmon.” But now that he was there he somewhat lost his nerve, and walked past the entrance several times before he went in. At first the clerk at the desk thought that our hero was a race-track sport, who had wandered into the wrong place. For you must remember that Fatty was still dressed in that harmonious discord of colors. But Fatty marched bravely over and asked for Miss ¥t ynan. Evidently Miss Wynan was a personage of some importance, for the clerk immediately became very friendly and called up Miss Wynan’s room. After several minutes’ delay the ’phone was answered and the bell- boy was told to show the gentleman to suite 4. At last the great m oment was here; he was to meet his soul-mate face to face. With much trepidation Fatty tapped gently upon the door, and was rewarded by a very weak little call to “ come in.” He opened the door and entered. A very prim old lady sat in a large arm-chair, crocheting. Fatty introduced himself whth great dignity, and then asked for Miss Wynan. Of course, thought Fatty, this must be a chaperon or an elderly relation. But strange to say, the old lady, instead of making any motion to call anyone, simply inclined her head and smiling said “ I am Miss Wynan.” “ But,” replied Fatty, ‘‘ I mean Miss Florrie,” I am the one you wish to see; there is only one Miss Wynan, Miss Florrie VVyuan, that is my name.” Now if a fly had come over and looked real hard at Fatty, he would surely have collapsed. The rest was a night-mare. Fatty handed the card-case to the old lady, took another look and fled. Somewhere out in that dark and lonesome night there was a dainty little blonde, with blue eyes and dimpled cheeks and rose-bud mouth, but her name was not Miss Florrie Wynan. James S. Murphy, ’09.