Loyola College - Review Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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WOYOLA COLLEGE REVIEW —- crestfallen that I quite forgot to remind him of ít. Jim, he burst out as soon as we were comfortably seated, whoever said that woman is man's pride and comfort should be hogtied, manhandled, scalped and? ac.” Cool down, calm yourself, old тап,” I advised him in the most sooth- ing tone. “Am I to understand that you are having some trouble? Trouble! shades of the Kaiser! I am having nothing else but, and its coming thick and steady. Women, by all the: . aff: “By the way, who is this singer you mentioned? I infer that she might have had something to do with it.” Splendid, my dear! Noble head! How did you ever guess it? I could have sworn that there was a suspicion of sarcasm underlying his words, but before I had time to take offense he continued: “After the first five concerts I was ready for anything. Tickets were selling like hot dogs at a circus. Then, one fine day, shortly after I sent you that letter, a girl came to see me and asked for a position. I don’t know what she did to me exactly, but after I heard her sing, I thought it was a good idea to take her on in con- junction with Surofski to give greater variety to the programme. Olga Baz- inska made her début the following evening and I was building castles from here to Borneo. Since that night I haven’t had enough peace to a ppreci- ate the League of Nations.” jealousy? I suggested. jealousy your aunt! he retorted. From the moment Surofski first saw the girl, he couldn't see anything else, but just hung around looking soulful, like a dyspeptic cow. In all my travels I never saw anything more disgusting. If the girl didn't get enough „ке for her part he wouldn't play at all, and when he did go on he wouldn't follow the programme but started off on some — squishy nonsense about 'A Moment in Your Arms.’ ” “Апа you say she did not reciprocate his attentions?” Right again, my dear Watson!— You may bring the needle.—No, as a matter of fact, she was quite disgusted with the whole affair, and stated that if I didn't keep that fool away, she'd do something desperate,—and she would, believe те! Well, said I helpfully, “Е-ег - - what are you going to do about it?” “That's just why I came to see you!” “Ме! Why pick оп me? I have nothing to do with the affair. I merely suggested a method by which you could make money. You ruined your chances, I added in my most aggravating “І-со14- you-so' tone, “by not following my instructions to the letter. You have made your bed (strong melodrama, you notice, which, as I mentioned before, is a weakness of mine)—now you can lie on it. Now listen, my dear Jim, he begged. I'm not your dear Jim!” “Won't you at least go and see her and find out if anything can be допег ' It was useless to argue, so I promised to do so as it did not seem to involve much effort. ‘But remember, I warned him in a last Parthian shot, ‘‘if she stilettoes me, my blood is on your head. And don't be hopeful! I knew that if I stayed any longer he would make me promise anything to get rid of him if nothing else, so I made a dash for my hat and coat and fled. The next afternoon I motored to the apartment of Olga Bazinska and presented my card at a very nice little place in the upper Eighties. I was welcomed by a rather elderly lady whom I took to be her mother. “Оо make yourself at home, she said, offering me a chair, Mary will be down any minute.” 4 12. k

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М” ШО УОЛА COLLEGE REVIEW — and ше. Give ше ап hour of your time and I'll pour a tale into your ear that will make you scribble off the Russian War Debt and no questions asked.” He just blinked and tried to look wise, so I took his arm, quietly led him to a corner and surprised him with the secret. Towards the end I noticed a glimmer of understanding there, so I drew up a rock-bound contract, got two clerks and the house detective to wit- ness the transaction an d before he could say Boo! I had his signature down on the good old parchment.’ He stopped for breath, and smiled so confidently at me that my ill-humour vanished completely. I rang for the office boy. Show the other gentleman in,” I ordered. A tall young chap entered, modestly dressed in black. His general appearance, combined with his flowing locks and serious, chiselled features, gave him the stamp of the artist. He smiled and bowed gracefully. “Таш indeed honour, zir,” said he, in a soft, rich accent. I acknowledged my pleasure by getting down to business. So you gentlemen have come to an agreement, I remarked inanely, for lack of something more to the point. All, as my fren’ say, is О.К.” he smiled, displaying at the same time a latent vein of whimsical humour and a good row of teeth. Suddenly, a soft suspicion of the ul- terior motive of their visit occurred to me. Nor was I to be left long in doubt about it. Baxter coughed, shifted a bit uneasily in his chair, took a few preliminary gulps of air and, in his most ingratiating manner, cut the Gor- dian knot by, ''E-er Jim,—there's a little Matters олы. I waited no longer, because I knew that he would argue blood from the proverbial stone. Taking out my cheque-book I secretly resolved to kick myself around the block at the first favourable opportunity. How much?'' I queried weakly, pen in hand. 4- “А thousand will do, he answered coolly, ''—Press-agents and an initial appropriation for hall rentals. He thanked me profusely, promised to let me in on anything exciting, and de- parted, followed by the exuberant Sur- ofski. During the next week I was so pre- occupied by an efficiency expert who came from the head office that I com- pletely forgot about Baxter and his venture. I was very surprised to hear from him but more so at the contents of his letter, penned in a style pre-emin- ently Baxterian. Dear Jim, it ran, “Never struck better since the Argentine egg deal. Won over the society matrons first and the rest fell for us like a centenarian on ice. Surofski sure made a hit, but it's a puzzle to me whether it's the music or his hair that got more popularity. The women are raving about him, and if he had drunk all the tea he has been in- vited to take in the past week, they'd have to revise the Boston tea party in the school readers. Enclosed find the check for a thousand. Thanks. ГЇЇ write again when I'm not busy counting proceeds. Yours in luck.—J. С.В.” He did not write me again for two weeks, but when he did it was in the form of a night letter that certainly belied the tone of his previous communi- cation. MONKEY WRENCH IN THE MACHINERY STOP SUROFSKI IN LOVE WITH SINGER STOP GETS NO ENCOURAGEMENT AND SULKS STOP WANTS TO KILL HIMSELF STOP WISH HE WOULD STOP MEET ME SATURDAY 3 P.M. Витмове--ВАХТЕВ. When I read this I didn't know whether to laugh, get angry or to give up the whole business as a bad job. Suffice it to say that I appeared at the Biltmore at the hour appointed, pre- pos for anything, but hoping at least or an explanation. J. C., according to custom, arrived a quarter of an hour late, but he looked so woebegone and { ах}

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WOY ОБА COLLEGE REN FEW — Here was a fine mix-up for you! Not the slightest suspicion of a foreign accent, and obviously a name like Mary could not be coupled with Bazinska. Then came the horrible thought that I might be in the wrong house. “Does not Olga Bazinska live here?” I enquired, striving to subdue my excitement. “Oh, yes, but that is only her stage name. Iam Mrs. Donnelly, her mother’’ Needless to say, I awaited her daughter with no small amount of curiosity, but when she did enter, tastefully, yet simply dressed in a modish tea gown,—I confess that I have never yet been able to describe her justly. In all the books you have ever read, there must have been one girl above all others in whom you found every quality both good and beautiful, and for whom you felt that life would be well worth living. Take this ideal, enlarge upon it to your heart’s content and you will have my first impression of Mary Donnelly. I stood there, staring at the radiant beauty before me, as if half stunned. And when she spoke her voice gave me a memory of hearing sweet sunset chimes across still waters. “Do be seated,” she said, when the introductory formalities were over: “I have heard so many nice things about you from Mr. Baxter that I was really looking forward to meeting you. Had J. Cornelius hanged and quartered me there and then, I could cheerfully have forgiven him. I mumbled something unintelligible in reply, and began to blush and fidget like a youth of seven- teen at his first dance. In her kindness, she noticed my discomfiture and suc- ceeded in leading the conversation di- rectly to the object of my visit, which I then explained in as few words as possible. At the conclusion of my remarks, she laughed. You read in poems of angels weeping—I now knew the bliss that rippled in their laughter. “Why, I never imagined for a moment that Mr. — Baxter would have taken me seriously. I only wished to be left alone by Mr. Surofski. I judged that if he continued to act so foolishly, I should lose what means I had of supporting Mother, for it's different now since Father died.” I begged her to leave the affair in my hands, as I was going that afternoon to sce Surofski. “You cannot imagine how much I shall appreciate your kindness, she answered, little knowing that I could have joyfully stood on my chair and cheered for the very privilege of serving her in any way. May I come to let you know the result of my visit?’ I begged, mean- while edging out the door. Then as we said good-bye, and I held her gaze and hand a bit longer than convention modestly dictated, she blushed, withdrew the intriguing mem- ber, but gave me her smiling consent. As I turned to go, my foot caught some how on the door-mat, the result being that I shot down those stairs at a rate I never again hope to equal. Arrivin at the bottom—you may take my oid for it that I certainly did—I made a futile lunge for the door knob in an attempt to get out as soon as possible, if not sooner. I tried again, this time with better luck, for I at last discovered that I had been endeavouring to open it by the hinge. Once outside I vowed that I would never repeat such a scene for all the wealth of Croesus, but long before I arrived at the studio of Mr. Surofski, I was ready to admit that for the first time in my life love smiled on me like an unclouded sun. . . . . k k Ck A deep-throated bellow of laughter interrupted this recital of my emotional reactions, and turning hastily, my be- wildered gaze rested upon J. Cornelius Baxter himself. It was just his way to enter the Club unobtrusively and en- sconce himself in a nearby roomy chair until he judged fit to cut in. 1o h