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Page 32 text:
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26 THE QUIVER stories of the West. I was disappointed when she declared her intention of training for a nurse, writing as a side line. Mrs. Forrester had suggested that if we had a theme in “exam,” we should write our impressions of that evening. We did not. however. have a theme. I wish that they might see my impressions of each of them. Oh. to see what each individual thinks of me! GLADYS V. E. RANDALL. ’23. TO THE BROOK TROUT In brooks clear as silver. In nooks out of sight, You’re forever a-quiver, F'rom morning till night. Marked like the rainbow, Gorgeous and bright; You're ever lying low Out of my sight. Famed by old Walton, Sought by all men, Elusive and wanton, With expressionless mien Pride of your captors. Lucky are they, Who from your covert Lure you away. Oh! Fontinalis, Oft have I tried To lure or enchant you. Here to my side. Of fishes most wondrous, Of which poets sing. Brook trout. I salute you, You are the king. REMO RAM I'LL A, ’23
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Page 31 text:
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THE QUIVER 25 and blue dishes. We talked to our soul’s satisfaction, without being pulled up short by Mr. McIntyre’s “Back to lessons!’’ We were served a delicious drink in slim glasses. It was grapejuice with fruit floating on top and picturesque mint standing up in it. There was a large cake covered with light chocolate frosting. The inside was brown and white checked. Mrs. Forrester brought in her “roomie,’’ Mrs. Page of the Virginia Pages, who had been packing. She was a school chum of Mrs. Forrester and was very aristocratic and white-haired and always wore a tight l and on her neck. She had a rich-looking emerald ring, which immediately interested me. Her father was the professor who started Harvard Summer School. A widow, she had come to Harvard because her sixteen-year-old son was getting ahead of her in French! She did not know whether she would send her boy to Harvard. although his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather had gone there. I imagine that she is a mother any boy would worship. The conversation changed from one subject to another and back to the first. Mrs. Forrester, who had traveled much, told us of her life in India, her meeting with Ghandi. As she spoke of her first husband, I presume she has had more than one. She was taking the course to help her in writing, but she had received discouraging marks. If she could only write as well as she could talk! The next week she was going to Bar Harbor to give several lectures. I expected that Mrs. Forrester would be very broad-minded, but she was not. in some things, at least. She and I had some friendly, hot arguments, she said that as old as she was, she would not go to dinner alone with a man. As for “flappers’—?! ! Last spring, when she came from England, she went to the best hotel in San Francisco. She looked around at her companions and asked what kind of a place it was. She said she would rather go to a cheap restaurant where there were no “flappers.” She disapproved of bobbed hair, because “Beautiful hair is woman’s crowning beauty.” It was getting late, and we had to drag ourselves from the interesting discussion. As I was going. Mrs. Page did “not like the way my hat was over one eye,” but did like my pearl bracelet, and if ever I came to Washington, I must call on her. Mr. McIntyre. Mr. Gainor. and Miss Lewis walked with me to my apartment. As another discussion was on. I asked them up to finish it. Until midnight we talked and discussed and argued. Mr. McIntyre told us of days on the ranches when he was a boy. I do not mean to call him a liar, but really I cannot believe he lived on ranches and did the things he said and yet is the sort of man he is. It sounded more characteristic to hear him remark that he would bring his mother next summer and they would take an apartment. Mr. Gainor loves O. Henry. Miss Lewis told
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