THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-ELEVEN 169

 

 

 

In the course of time the club developed two cheers, used to celebrate each new diagram
drawn on the board for the purpose of perfecting our already crystal-clear concept of the
nature of a “‘ Marginal Differential.’”” These cheers were always given with much ceremony,
the “Ha, Ha, Ha, Hyena, Hyena, Hyena,” being pantomimed by a nod of the head at each
word, together with a brave showing of the front teeth. With constant practice we came
to do this very well.

One day our professor turned around at the critical moment to confront the Club, in
full cry, giving the new diagram a most enthusiastic send-off with heads bobbing and teeth
gleaming. Not being used to intercept these bursts of affectionate enthusiasm on the part
of her students the lady didn’t know just how to take the demonstration, whether to laugh
or to cry, as she afterwards confessed when she had found out that we were crazy but kind.

Soon after this celebration a long paper on scientific management was read aloud in
class. The subject for illustration was a Polac, who handled pig iron, making his trips
by a stop-watch, and had—to quote from the article—‘‘absolutely no intelligence; but was
a perfect ox!’ Of course the entire room was in an uproar and I, labouring under the nick-
name of Schmidt, sank in a confused heap beneath a desk. M. P. knew she was going to
raise a storm and seemed to enjoy the result. I mention this incident as it was the beginning
of our economic names and incidentally of our acquainting our professor with the existence
and nature of the Club. She, I blush to say, had noted and perhaps secretly enjoyed what she
pointedly referred to as our “intelligent attention;” for whenever Marginal Utliity was
mentioned Amy bridled, because she was called our “Marginal Hyena,” being of waferish
build. L. Houghteling had gotten the name of “Rising Cost of Production Hyena”’ and
often looked the part to the pride of the entire Club. As for Higgie, she always beamed in
time of stress, so we called her our “Hedonic Maxima Hyena.”’ Margery Hoffman was
uneconomically “The Seal” throughout the course, while I, O tempora, O mores! was
stuck with the name of “Schmidt the Pig,”’ for which I cursed that hated article until famili-
arity with the soubriquet finally bred contempt. We could not lower the tone of the organi-
sation by referring to Esther Cornell otherwise than as our “ Dear President.”

Time emboldened the Club to invite M. P. to a picnic. Then came the question of who
was to hand her the note written carefully on Club monogram paper, made by Leila and signed
with all our economic names. The President, true to her colours, was too timid; so that
the duty fell to the Vice-President, Schmidt the Pig, to tender the invitation. M. P. accepted
at once; but rain on the appointed day dashed our hopes and the picnic never came off.
This was our one and only social effort, which, like all good things, died young.