Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 184, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 August 1916 — Married or Single [ARTICLE]

Married or Single

The Persons. Boniface, landlord of a small town fcOteL Mrs. Boniface, his wife. A bachelor of 45. Bystanders, more or less Innocent. The Place —Lobby of the hotel. The time 10:30 of an October night. Mrs. Boniface Is standing behind the counter. The bachelor of 45 leans over the counter engagingly and gnaws a cigar. The bystanders are smoking, writing letters, listening. w Mrs. B. —I tell you It’s the women that keep this country from going to ruin today. If there weren’t any women there wouldn’t be anything wrorth haring. The Baohelor—Kind of throwing bouquets at yourself, aren’t you Mrs. Boniface? Mrs. B. —No, I’m not. I’m talking about women in general. Who is it gets a town cleaned up, anyhow? Tie women. They’re the one that want good schools and clean streets and no saloons. (Boniface nods his head mournfully.) They keep at m$Q till Uiey do. Men would never do anything progressive if It wasn’t for the women. They’d jus* leave things like they are and sit and smoke their pipes and say, “Oh, well it might be worse.” Huh, I know men. (The Bachelor looks Jocularly at Boniface and winks one eye, Boniface affects not to see.) v The Bachelor (straightening up and essaying dignity)—You women have got an exaggerated idea of your own importance. Why, if it wasn’t for men you wouldn’t get anything done. Not anything at all. Who'd pay your bills? Mrs. B.—(snappily)—We’d pay 'em ourselves. Enough of us have to, anyhow. And I know some women—not me, but some —that pay their husband’s bills, too. Catch me doing that! Boniface nods his head approvingly, and beams around at the assemblage His smile says quite plainly “See what a smart wife I have. It Isn’t everybody has as smart a wife as mine. It isn’t every man that is able to attract that smart a woman.” He says nothing out loud, however. The Bachelor—Well, you can't tell me anything I don’t know about womdn, Mrs. Boniface. Mrs. B.(more sweetly)—ls that so? You must be married. The Bachelor —Who? Married? Me? I should say not. I know too much for that. No, I’m too old for that. Believe me, I play round with a lot of them, but no woman could ever marry me. Uh-uh. Mrs. Boniface’s mouth sets in a thin firm line. The Bachelor is making light of the married state and boasting of. his immunity. He is, therefore, v an enemy of all womankind and ought to be humbled as soon as possible. He ought to be married too, Mrs. B. thinks and tc a right firm woman. Mrs. B. thinks eo much that she is unable to express herself at all. The Bachelor —Well, good night all. Me for the hay. Ho, hum! G'night, Mrs. Boniface. Mrs. B. (briefly and with the smallest degree of cordiality possible in a hotel keeper’s wife who has an eye to the till) —Good night. The bachelor goes out. Mrs. B.—Huh! Thinks no woman could ever marry him —does he? The idiot! Why any woman could marry him that took a notion to! Easy as pie. Be a good thing for him, too. I wish one would. But I don’t guess one ever, will. So fat and old! Come on Harry, It’s time that we locked up. Curtain. * RIGHT AND WRONG Prof. Thomas R. Lounsbury told the following at Cambridge in a talk on English: “But precision can be carried too far. The ultra precise, even when logically right, are really wrong "An ultra precise professor went itto a hardware shop and said: "’Show me a shears, please. •"You mean a pair of shears, don’t you?” said the dealer. “'No,' said the professor, T mean what I say. I mean a shears.' "The dealer took down a box of shears. ‘“Look here, professor,’ he said. Aren’t there two blades here? And don’t two make a pair?* ‘“Well, you’ve got two legs. Poes that make you a pair of_men?' And the professor smiled at the dealer triumphantly thru his spectacles. “He was logically right, but really he was wrong.” An Adequate Reason. The moon was casting flickering shadows over a pair of lovers as they sat side by side In Battery Park. He glanced out across the water and saw the Statue of liberty in the shadowy gloom. 1 *T wonder why they have its light so small?”’ he broke in on the blissful silence.. “Perhaps," answered she in a soulful tone, as she coquettishly tried to slip from his arm, "the smaller the light the greater the liberty." Some Diplomat. That fellow Migga is a pretty smooth proposition.” - “Yea?" “Why, he’s got his wife Jollied into believing that she is the only one In tha family who knows how to ran a furaaoe.”