THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-ELEVEN 109
NAY DAY
Troe. Te INSIDE
Osi
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NCE I thought I could make a funny article out of this. Once I assured Scottie
that she had no idea what quiet humour lay hidden in our little Committee meetings.
“Once, my duckie, and only once,” as Kipling used to say. Scottie, by the way,
said she did have an idea, because she had been dragged to one of those same Committee
meetings, having been previously informed that Mr. King considered her huge, buxom,
and altogether “a handsome woman,” rather than “a dainty slip of a girl” (I quote his
words). Her purpose was to prove him wrong; this she did with the aid of—no, never
mind, this is not a beauty section. At all events, Mr. King gazed at this sylph (whom he
had, apparently, never seen before, save in hockey-clothes), gasped, rubbed his eyes, winked
twice, hard, and said ‘‘Gracious, how did she do it!!!’
(N. B.—Scottie says that the above is a base slander. She says it was all perfectly.
natural—the transformation, I mean.)
Now, to return to where I began, I fear that “the insides” of May Day is but a sad
