More Fables | Page 9

had been--to go to Congress!
With a demoniacal Shriek he threw himself at full length on a Leather
Couch and began to Laugh.
He rolled off the Sofa and tossed about on a $1,200 Rug in a Paroxysm
of Merriment.
His Man came running into the Library and saw the Master in
Convulsions. The poor Trust Magnate was purple in the Face.

They sent for a Great Specialist, who said that his Dear Friend had
ruptured one of the smaller Arteries, and also narrowly escaped Death
by Apoplexy.
[Illustration: THE MAGNATE]
He advised Rest and Quiet and the avoidance of any Great Shock.
So they took the High School Oration and put it on the Ice, and the
Magnate slowly recovered and returned to his nine-course Dinners.
MORAL: _Of all Sad Words of Tongue or Pen, the Saddest are these,
"It Might Have Been."_

THE FABLE OF WHAT HAPPENED THE NIGHT THE MEN
CAME TO THE WOMEN'S CLUB
In a Progressive Little City claiming about twice the Population that the
Census Enumerators could uncover, there was a Literary Club. It was
one of these Clubs guaranteed to fix you out with Culture while you
wait. Two or three Matrons, who were too Heavy for Light
Amusements, but not old enough to remain at Home and Knit,
organized the Club. Nearly every Woman in town rushed to get in, for
fear somebody would say she hadn't been Asked.
The Club used to Round Up once a week at the Homes of Members.
There would be a Paper, followed by a Discussion, after which
somebody would Pour.
The Organization seemed to be a Winner. One Thing the Lady
Clubbers were Dead Set On. They were going to have Harmony with
an Upper Case H. They were out to cut a seven-foot Swath through
English Literature from Beowulf to Bangs, inclusive, and no petty
Jealousies or Bickerings would stand in the Way.
So while they were at the Club they would pull Kittenish Smiles at
each other, and Applaud so as not to split the Gloves. Some times they

would Kiss, too, but they always kept their Fingers crossed.
Of course, when they got off in Twos and Threes they would pull the
little Meat-Axes out of the Reticules and hack a few Monograms, but
that was to have been expected.
[Illustration: WYCLIF]
Everything considered, the Club was a Tremendous Go. At each
Session the Lady President would announce the Subject for the next
Meeting. For instance, she would say that Next Week they would take
up Wyclif. Then every one would romp home to look in the
Encyclopedia of Authors and find out who in the world Wyclif was. On
the following Thursday they would have Wyclif down Pat, and be
primed for a Discussion. They would talk about Wyclif as if he had
been down to the House for Tea every evening that Week.
After the Club had been running for Six Months it was beginning to be
Strong on Quotations and Dates. The Members knew that Mrs.
Browning was the wife of Mr. Browning, that Milton had Trouble with
his Eyes, and that Lord Byron wasn't all that he should have been, to
say the Least. They began to feel their Intellectual Oats. In the
meantime the Jeweler's Wife had designed a Club Badge.
The Club was doing such Notable Work that some of the Members
thought they ought to have a Special Meeting and invite the Men. They
wanted to put the Cap-Sheaf on a Profitable Season, and at the same
time hand the Merited Rebuke to some of the Husbands and Brothers
who had been making Funny Cracks.
It was decided to give the Star Programme at the Beadle Home, and
after the Papers had been read then all the Men and Five Women who
did not hold Office could file through the Front Room and shake Hands
with the President, the Vice-President, the Recording Secretary, the
Corresponding Secretary, the Treasurer, and the members of the
various Committees, all of whom were to line up and Receive.
The reason the Club decided to have the Brain Barbecue at the Beadle

Home was that the Beadles had such beautiful big Rooms and Double
Doors. There was more or less quiet Harpoon Work when the
Announcement was made. Several of the Elderly Ones said that
Josephine Beadle was not a Representative Member of the Club. She
was Fair to look upon, but she was not pulling very hard for the
Uplifting of the Sex. It was suspected that she came to the Meetings
just to Kill Time and see what the Others were Wearing. She refused to
buckle down to Literary Work, for she was a good deal more interested
in the Bachelors who filled the Windows of the new Men's Club