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Updated: June 9, 2025
"I think either Prexy or Miss Rutledge ought to be told," concurred Ethel. "It would nip the whole business in the bud. There'll be more of this sort of thing if it isn't stopped right away. "Did you hear what I said, Jane?" she questioned over her shoulder to Jane, who was walking behind her with Norma. Ethel, Adrienne and Judith had taken the lead. "Yes, I heard.
We talked with the soft pedal on. We went without cigarettes. We wiped our eyes whenever we got an audience. Time after time we told the sad story and exhibited the telegram. By noon more particulars began to come in. Prexy got an answer to his telegram of condolence. The funeral, the telegram said, would be on Tuesday afternoon.
I remember the way it used to be when a fellow had to go in to see Prexy in my time. The old guy would start mooning away and quoting Latin and keep us there half the morning." At this moment two shabby-looking, insignificant men who had evidently come out from one of the buildings, passed us on the sidewalk. "I wonder who those guys are," said Mr. Sims. "Look like bums, don't they?"
Even Prexy came out of it for a little while and went into the gym to shake hands with them. It took lively work to detain him until we could get them stripped and laid out on the rubbing boards. They were the heroes of the school for the rest of the year and, being honest chaps, they naturally objected.
"I was beginning," pursued Patty, "to feel nervous for fear some of the family might drop in, when the man came back and said, 'Mrs. Millard will be down in a minute. "If I had seen you at that moment, Georgie Merriles, there would have been battle, murder, and sudden death. My first thought was of flight; but the man was guarding the door, and Mrs. Prexy had my card.
Whereupon she set her strong, white teeth into a hot, roasted chestnut, cracked it, and, regarding the halves, said: "This reminds me of the night Prexy lost his head" and brought down the house with the merriest tale of all.
"Never mind," said Patty, good-naturedly; "you may not believe me now, but to-morrow night, when I'm all dressed up in beautiful clothes, swapping stories with Prexy and eating lobster salad, while you are over here having mutton, then maybe you'll be sorry." A Crash Without "I love the smell of powder," said Patty. "Gunpowder or baking-powder?"
It was his essential democracy which kept him for so many years in personal relations with his students, an interest which never flagged until the last, and which was shown by the close track which he always kept of the alumni of the University. For the alumni, he always bore that simplest and most beloved of academic titles, "Prexy."
"What do you take me for?" was Lola's derisive reply when Natalie asked her for the third time to try to bring the contest about. "I'd just as soon ask Prexy Matthews to dye his hair pink as to ask those snippies to give a Beauty parade. Kiss yourself good-bye, Nat. You didn't win it last year. Nuff said."
Petey had just put his eye to the window of the president's room, ostensibly to find out whether Prexy was in a good humor and in reality to find out whether Kennedy, an old grad who had consented to play the part, was on duty, when one of the boys hurried up and grabbed me. "Just evaporate as fast as you can," he whispered; "there are six cops on the way out.
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