Evening Star Newspaper, December 7, 1930, Page 97

, D. C, DECEMBER 7, 1930. 0 fj?zzs/zz'/zg Season H long F' mz‘er}zz'fykow—By Graeme Lorimer me line—Duke felt a little resentful and de- ded to punish her. g ““Melie, have you ever heard about Mariposa’s mous race at Poughkeepsie?” ISTANTLY Grol;en'l face became oratorical: “Mariposa—that’s my old alma mater.” He ed to Melie. “I might even go so far as say I rowed on that crew—in fact, I stroked elie was deeply impressed. “You stroked championship crew?” Groben was gratified. “Oh, I don’t know that so much.” 'You would say that. Suppose you tell me it and let me decide for myself.” {Groben had had a tail he would have jged it. Happily he laid the race at her 'We had the inside course, see, and that was to the good on account of the wind——" lortunately the telephone rang just as Mari- nosed ahéad of Cornell in magnificent re- nse to the cox’s command to give her 10. lie held up her hand. “Stop! Don't say her word till I get back. I can't bear to ‘a syllable.” D slipped out and intercepted her in the I coming back. “Gosh, Melie,” you're a hder,” he said with genuine admiration and hed her with a tentative arm. But ehow she was out of his reach. Am I?” “You know I think s0. Not many girls—it's -+ pretty low to hand you into this and then duck -out. Do you mind if I go?” “Do you want to really, Duke?” Her voice : was faintly, wistful. “Gosh,’ no, but I've got to get back to the house to hélp work on this freshman—that’s the whole idea—and if you'll just keep Brother Greben’s mind off rushing till I get back I'll be your slave for life. Yes, and I'll be out here tomorrow night with tickets for the theater. Wwill you? Can _you?” . . . “Of course I can.” Melie accepted the chal- lenge and went back into-the living room where : Groben #at- swaying slightly with a far-away _ Jook in his eye. ’ ““And then we settled down to a long,.steady stroke——" was the last Duke heard as he quietly closed the front door.. He coasted silently for a. distance, then let the clutch in. and sped to the house. There he found El- bridge Sawtelle Strawbridge already ensconced in the stufféd chair in Beanie's room—always used for sweat sessions because it had the best furniture. Beanie was talking: “This is a congenial bunch of fellows, this house. We don’t want an uncongenial man, no matter who he is, and when we bid you it's because we know you will be happier here than anywhere else on the campus. “This house stands for congeniality,” he went on loudly as the freshman's mouth opened to speak. “Thére are no cliques here like you will find in most houses, and we're well rourided, too. We stand for scholarship and for activities - as well as athletics. As I said b>fore, you'll find this a well rounded bunch of fellows, and above all they're congenial.” As Beanie paused for breath Duke took the baton. Looking the freshman hypnotically in the eye, he briefly reviewed the national stand- ing of the brotherhood, but more important than that, he went on, did Sawtelle know that the bowl, now filled with cigarettes on the table downstairs, had been awarded to a Beta Xi last year—the highest honor the senior class could give—and this year the house had five senior hats and two junior? . As Duke opened the album of newspaper lippings about great deeds of famous Beta Xi athletes, Elbridge Sawtelle Strawbridge threw & leg over one arm of his chair and interrupted. “What I really want to know is what fresh- men are coming Beta Xi?” A smooth boy, ‘this freshman, Duke proudly gave the. lis’, of .men sewed up. “The crowd you've been running -with, you see.” The freshman did not seem properly impres- - sed. “Some of the crewmen I like are going Pi Rho.” . “You mustn’t let that influencé you,” Duke ‘said quickly. oday I knew my fresh- And besides youll see plenty of ” . “Well, I haven't up my mind yet, but hichever way I go I want you fellows to know your crowd a ”. Bawtelle was still on the fence at the beginning of the 18-hour silent gingerly enveloped the tiny white hand of s sweet bit of froth and fluf as ever graced a college town. without being in the period, during which no upper classman could speak t0 a freshman. : A b The whole chapter gathered around him with warm handclasps and hearty good nights and good lucks as he left, escorted for the last time by a guard of honor to his room in the dorms. “How -did it go at Melie's?” Beanie asked as soon as the door closed. “Oh, it might have been worse.” Philosophi- cally Duke took a cigarette out of the bowl on . the table and lit it. “But I don’t see how.” “Where were®hey when you left?” “Just passed the Columbia boathouse—three miles to go.” LEDGE buttons had already been put on the freshmen and a magnificent meal—to be paid for out of their initiation fees—urged upon them, when Duke burst in the door. Excitedly he sought out Beanie, who with sev- eral other brothers was waiting second shift at the tables. “Sawtelle turn up all right?” There were scowls and an unfraternal gleam in Beanie’s eye. “Yeah, you should ask that.” “You don’t mean he didn't——" “Just that—he didn’t.” Hostile silence. Duke shoved his derby onto the back of his head and passed a hand across his brow. “Groben—do you suppose, after all, Gro- ben——" “Yes,” Beanic's voice was heavy with sarcasm. “Clever of you to guess it. It's too bad you couldn’t have thought of it sooner.” “Oh, is that so?” “Yes, that's so. If you hadn’'t had that bright idea of taking Groben——" “My idea!” Was this bunch of deadwood trying to give him the birdie? “Dana—" “Suppose it was Dana’s idea? You're the one that plumbered things.” “That’s right, Duke,” said Dana, neatly step- ping out from under. “I merely made a sug- gestion. You didn’'t have to follow it.” “How——" There was a Jot Duke didn't understand. “If you hadn't taken Groben away when we needed him here we’'d have Sawtelle and the laugh on the Pi Rho’s,” Beanie said. “Needed him here!” “That dumb frosh—I just got it from his roommate—gave us the air because he hadn't met any one in here who knew an oar from a tiller.” : f Light began to break over Duke. “So that was why he asked if we had a transfer named Groben here. He was looking for a crewman, And I tried to laugh it off. Oh, gosh!” “A great little fixer you were—not.” “That’s the way you feel about it, is t?” Duke might blame. himself, but he wasn't take ing it from any one else. “Try and get me %o do anything for this house again. - Just try——" Regrettably unbrotherlike recriminations cone tinued until interrupted by the shriek of a siren splitting the air outside. There was a shriek of brakes above the shriek of the siren, and a cowboy yell above it all. Heads were popping " out all along Fraternity Row as the Beta Xi's tumbled out of the door. Brother Groben. Melie's car, Duke saw. She was almost hidden by Grobsn’s bulk, but her head was on a level with his. She must be sitting on some one's lap. “Come on, brohs!” bellowed Groben. !!en'.'x another pledge.” It was the lap of Elbridge Sawtelle Strawe bridge that Melie was sitting on. “I didn’t feel right about going back on you fellows last night,” Groben’s voice boomed out over the cheers and congratulations, “so I did a little snoopin’ around the gym this after, Those Pi Rho frosh were too buddy with Straw, here, to suit me, so I got Melie to kidnap him and keep him occupied till silent period was up and I could give him the works. And here he is. We may be a baby chapter out at Mu, but we get our man.” “You've got the Beta Xi spirit all right, Brether Groben.” The admiring voices were entirely sincere. Elbridge Sawtelle Strawbridge—henceforth to be known as “Straw,” because good oid Brother Groben called him “Straw”—was dragged from the car and carried triumphantly into the house. What a laugh on the Pi Rho's! ’ Dule was the only one to stay behind. Melie certainly deserved a real reward, he thought. He'd take her to dinner as well as theater. “You go right in, Brother Groben, theyll want you at the head of the table. Don’t worry about Melie—I'll take care of her.” “Thanks, Broh Fletcher, some other time, After what Melie done for the frat I'm going to give her a big evening—feed and a show.” “But—but Duke and I——" Melie started to protest. For answer Groben slipped the little car inty . gear and gave it the gun. Melie had the grace to turn and blow a good= by kiss to Duke and his theater tickets, but before she was out of sight he saw her snuggle close to Groben. Evidently she liked a caveman, (Copyright, 1930.) - My Battle With Drink. BY P. G. WODEHOUSE. COULD tell my story in two words—the two words, “I drank.” (But as long as editors make a practice of paying for human documents by length, I'm hanged if I'm going to do so.) But I was not always a drinker. THe other day I met a wild young fellow, a chum of my undergraduate days, up in New York for a good time., He took my arm and began to steer me to the nearest soda fountain, “Come, Cyril,” he cried. *“We shall be young only once. Let us enjoy life while we may. - I'l blow you to a nut sundae. - I shook him off. “No, Clarence,” I replied, kindly but firmly, “I am through with all that sort of thing, I am saved.” I lost a friend, but I retained my self-respect. I was not always a slave of the soda fountain. The thing stole upon me gradually, as it does upon so many young men. I was a young man before temptation really came upon me. My downfall began when I joined the Yonkers Shorthand and Typewriting Correspondence College. T was then that I first made acquaintance with the awful power of ridicule. "They were & hard-living set at college—reckless youths, They fregquented movie palaces. How vividly I can recall that day! The shin- ing counter, the placards advertising strange mixtures with ice cream as their basis, the busy men behind the counter, the half-cynical, half-pitying eyes of the girl in the cage where you bought the soda checks. It was an apple marshmallow sundae, I recol- Ject. I dug my spoon into it with an assumption of gaiety which I was far from feeling. The first mouthful almost nauseated me. It was like cold hair oil. But I stuck to it. I set my teeth and persevered, and by degrees a strange exhilaration began to steal over me. I felt that I had burnt my boats and bridges; that I had crossed the Rubicon. I was reckless. I ordered another round. I accosted perfect strangers and forced sundaes upon them. I was the life and soul of that wild party. The next morning brought remorse. I did not feel well. I had pains, physical and mental, But I could not go back now. I was too weak to dispense with my popularity. of the Checkers Club, to whom I looked up with an almost worshipping reverence, had slapped me on the back and told me that I was a corker. I felt that nothing could be excessive payment for such -an honor. That night I gave a party at which orange phosphate flowed like water. It was the turning point. I had got the habit! , I will pass briefly over the next few years. I continued to sink deeper and deeper into slough. I knew all the drug store clerks in New York by their first nam by with customers became strange. I was nervous and distrait. I became a secret candy eater. At first considerations of health did not trouble me. I was young and strong, and my constitution quickly threw off the effects of my dissipation. Then, gradually, I began to feel worse. I was losing my grip. I found a difficulty in concentrating my attention on my work. I had dizzy spells. Eventually I went to a doctor. He examined me thoroughly and shook his head. “If I am to do you any good,” he said, “you must tell me all. * You must hold no secrets from me.” “Doctor,” I said, covering my face with my hands, “I am a confirmed soda fiend.” He gave me a long lecture and a longer list of instructions. I must take air and exercise and I must become a total abstainer from sundaes of all descriptions, I must avoid lime- ade like the plague, and if anybody offered me a frosted chocolate I was to knock him down and shout for the nearest policeman. 2 I learned then for the first time what & bitterly hard thing it is for a man in a large and wicked city to keep away from soda when once he has got the habit. Everything was against me. The old convivial circle began to shun me. I could not join in their rgvels and they began to look on me as a grouch. In the end I fell, and in one wild orgy undid all the good of a month’s abstinence. I was desperate then. I felt that nothing could save me, and I might as well give up the struggle. I drank two pin-ap-o-lades, three grapefruitolas and a milk shake before pausing to take breath. AND then, one day, I luckily met May, the girl who effected my reformation. She was a clergyman’s daughter, who to support her widowed mother had accepted a non-speaking- part in a musical comedy production entitled “Oh Joy! Oh Pep!” Our acquaintance ripened, and one night I asked her out to supper. I look on that moment as the happiest of my life. I.met her at the stage door and con- ducted her to the nearest soda fountain. We were inside and I was buying the checks before she realized where she was, and I shall never forget her look of mingled pain and horror. “And I thought you were a live one!” she murmured, I confessed everything to her. It seemied that she had bzen looking forward to a little Jobster and champagne. The idea was absolutely hew to me. She quickly convinced me, however, that such was the only refreshment which she ir~ would consider, and she recoiled with uncone cealed aversion from my suggestion of 2 crushed violet frappe or a whoopee college ice. That night I tasted wine for the first time," and my reformation began. It was hard at first, desperately hard. Some- "thing inside me was trying to pull me back to