Friday, October 18, 1940.
THE SALEMITE
Page Three.
FASHION’S FROLIC
LIL RED RIDING-HOOD
This the forest primeval, the
murmuring pine and the hemlock
... and who should come stomping
across the field but Dostoievsky, the
wolf.
“Ah,” croaked he from the
depths of his aesophagus, “Ah,
what a delightful day for eating
people or pigs or even anything.
Ah."
And the trees rustled with hor
ror and the humming birds hum
med in loathing at the dreadful at
titude of Dostoievesky. And Dossy
leaped on toward whatever lunch
he might encounter.
But who do you think was com
ing thru the forest primeval at
that very moment? You’re right...
Little Bed Biding Hood! And she
was just simply tearing along in.
her new fall clothes on her way in
town to go shoppiHg (any similari
ty to the Bed Bed Hood who visit
ed h'er grandmother is entirely
coincidental.
And Dostoievsky saw her when
she was still far, far away and so
with beast-like haste he screamed
to her.
“Hallo, hallo there Bed Biding
Hood . . . wait for me . . . wait
for me I’m afraid of these big
dark woods.”
And L. B. B. H., being a kind
hearted li’l creature waited.
“Hello Mr. Dostoievesky,” said
she, “Hello.”
“Where are we going?” said he.
“I’m going shopping,” said she.
‘ ‘ That’s what you think, ’ ’ said
he.
“Ha ha . . .” said she (weakly).
“Ha ha,” said he.
And the next thing Little Bed
Riding Hood knew she was fit to
be tied . . . and fried ... by Dosto
ievsky. But because he was a gen
tleman ... as it were ... he pour
ed her out a highball.
“To what shall we drink?” said
he.
“To me because it’s my birth
day . . . the nineteenth of Octo
ber,” said she.
And Dostoievsky writhed and
screamed out and tore his hair and
did all sorts of disconcerting
things.
“Ah misery, today is my wife’s
birthday too, and I had forgot! Oh
what to do what to do?”
“Why not go to Cravens and
buy her some new clothes,” sug
gested, you know who.
And so, arm in arm, off they
tore to Cravens . . . causing no
little stir in the city streets as
well as in the store. But at Cra
vens they are always cordial and
sooa the wolf had made friends
with every clerk in the store.
“Show us the woiks,” said he.
And this is what he saw:
A baby blue flannel dress, beau
tifully tailored with a leather belt
and a stitched fly-front. (Dosty
coughed with relief when he saw
the price tag.) Then there was a
super super suit. The price was on
ly $50 for a black wool princess
style dress and a wonderful jacket
of caracul with a matching pill box
hat and a muff. At L. B, B. H.’s
suggestion the next buy was a
$5.95 natural gabardine skirt, a red
gabardine shirt and a perky red
skull cap and matching bag for no
more than a good song.
I think maybe this is enough,”
murmured our hero, but just for
good measure he threw in a gor-
•geous blue heavy hand knit swater
that was only $6.95.
‘ ‘ What a nice store,’ ’ shouted
Dosty a little later.
“Yes, isn’t it,” answered Little
Bed Biding Hood as he ate her up.
—E. 8. C.
ROCKS AND ROSES
Alias
Has-Been Beaux and Arrows
Alias
“He Who Lives In A Glass House . ,
When we come to the end of an
other week and sit alone (we do
mean alone!) with our thoughts,
it’s always nice to' know that our
pals, comrades, etc. still get around.
Take for example, Mary Alice, who
decided to give Salem a break and
finally tore herslef away from
Washington. Incidentally, what’s
this about the “crossed arms”
rifles? . . . Bnmor has it that a
Senior and a Froshie are chewing
the rag over a lad from Statesville.
And he’s only seventeen at that!
•.. Kitty and Mary Lib have been
about the happiest people around
since their little Charlotte escapade
last week. Say, Mary Lib, you’re
supposed to have a broken heart;
what about B.? Marge and Mickey
are planning a big week-end at
Mullins—one last fling to bid the
boys goodbyre before the army gets
’em . . . Esther’s red roses were
duly appreciated Sunday, even
through half-closed lids at the
break of dawn . . . They tell us
that the Froshies took Statesville
by storm Sunday and the Sophs by
a landslide Monday night. .. Mary
O’Keefe saw Joe at good ole Blue-
field . . . Betty W.’s trip to Ba-
leigh must have been an ultra.-suc-
cess on accounta that little uniden
tified pin she’s been sporting
around . . . Hitler Club—see Mar
tha Ston6Street for further details
. . . Louise Totherow visited Golds
boro last week-end. P. S. A letter
came Monday . . . Charlotte Denny
returning from a four-day birthday
celebration captivated a fellow
train passenger with—of all things
—her shorljjiand book! . . . We’re
all for declaring a national ham
burger week and dashing down to
the Toddle House for campaign ma
terials . . . Mildred Kelly’s sudden
interest in horses couldn’t be tall,
dark, and handsome, could he? (and
we don’t mean th’ horse!) . . .
What’s this about Burgess’ phone
call every day at 1:45? . . . We
haven’t heard the details yet, but
Sammy Pou did all right with that
Wednesday night dinner engage
ment . . . Lilly Sutton, Lena, Sara,
Mary Louise, Paschal, and Sprunt
still wonder if life can ever be the
same after Carolina last week-end
... Hedy McLean’s man is’ in the
army now! . . . Kelly Arm, do ya
hafta wear green when you sit on
the front row during the lecture
series? Dontcha know Mr. W. is
color blind and likes red?...Hol
brook’s Jack has gone, but maybe
he’ll fail out at the Air Corps!...
Bowman is all aflutter about Fri
day night — Wee Willie’s coming!
. .. Johnsle’s week-end riding was
kinda a let-down after beginning
this semester in a Packard—or was
it a Ford? . . . Bddle, what’s this
about your “misfortune” last
week-end? . . . Faith seems to have
forgotten Wake Forest completely
.. Dorothy Mullen went to the
Dog Show—with a man!... Jenny
Linn’s week-end at Forest City
will be heaven in itself—“nit-wit”
is coming down from the moun
tains ... We still maintain that
nice it be to have ci^tc frans, it’s
even nicer to be cute oneself—er
somethin’; so maybe we’d better
cease these meditations ere we be
come depressed.
P. S. It’s “June” in October,
but Patty got the hug . . . Eleanor
H. shooting archery every after-
I DARE SAY
That we ought to say something about the Draft registration last
Wednesday for the comment has been muchly. One girl wrote her B. F.
“I hope you registered today. I’d hato to see you drafted, but I’d
hate still worse to see you in the Federal Pen.” And then everyone’s
heard that one about naming the new baby at the Jcmes’ Weatherstrip-
ping ’cause he kept his daddy out of the Draft.
That one hardly knows whether to laugh or cry at the National
Broadcasting Co’s new program in which British children evacuees talk
with their parents at home. That program has everything — drama,
humor, pathos, and occasionally a person who just won’t talk.
That a running competition is being held by the Day Student’s
new radio (tuned strictly to the Jive) and Miss Bead’s ducky little put
ter forth of the higher art in Music.
That this is the place to quote from a recent issue of THUBSDAY:
“Superfluity. — The shock of its life was had by THURSDAY when the
SALEMITE, tiat uniformly excellent publication, began its first creak
ing and groaningi for 1940. The editor is Katharine King of Leaksville,
a, perscoable young lady who comes aroun*d each Thursday to knock to
gether her paper, after ours is put to bed. THUBSDAY’S relations with
the SALEMITE are, we hope, casual and cordial, with a certain degree
of friendly condescension on each side. But on the occasion of the
first issue of the SALEMITE this year, the editor came in and picked
up our phone and called her advertising manager. “Lissen,” she said
crisply and uncompromisingly. “We have too many ads, and not enough
space for news. Tell me what we can leave out to get the news in.”
That Dean Vardell nearly stole the show with his improvisation in
chapel last Wednesday.
That you’ll be interested in knowing that Little Jack Little is
bringing his boys to Winston in the near future.
That you could kick yourself for not taking yc«r knitting to
Memorial Hall last Tuesday night.
noon with Mr. Holder ... B. Lasley
is two-timing Bobert, Jack K. be
ing the other man ... if it isn’t
the draft it’s New York . . . May
be we’d BE ALLY better stop ere
we become depressed ...
Cut Flowers and Plants
WALKER’S FLORIST
MES. J. a. WALKEE, Prop.
PHONE 7422
115 N. Poplar St.
ENGRAVING
New, Different
and Better
H. T. Hearn Engraving Co.
217 Fanners Bank Bldg.
On Your Shopping Tours Stop
In To Eat At the
ROBERT E. LEE
COFFEE SHOP
A
“Let’s get
a
DRINK
Knock^A'Bouts
Brown and Green
Black and Wine
Blue and Bed .
MINE’S
WEST FOURTH STREET
Go North, South
East or West
The Clothes From
CRAVEN’S
Will Be The Best
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