THE CRIME

A really live tale of affairs behind the guns of the dining halls and their managers has recently come to our attention.

It seems that during the reign of President Lowell, word was received at the controlling offices of Harvard's culinary enterprise that the Great Man was desirous of the services of someone to set up a formal dinner table. A steward was dispatched on the sport, with explicit orders to leave behind him the most perfectly arranged and executed masterpiece within the scope of his capabilities. This he proceeded to carry out in a fashion acceptable even to the extremely fastidious taste of the President, who, unbeknown to the Great Lord of the Kitchen, carefully inspected everything before dismissing the man with his customary curt nod.

Now it chanced to be that our culinary Captain Wished, and perfectly justifiably, to get as much as possible on the palmy side of his boss, so consequently, when his table-setting expert returned, he fared forth to the President's lodgings in order to put to the most rigorous inspection possible, his employee's handiwork. With an accomplice, he had himself admitted to the dining salon by a servant, and right away commenced volubly, to a degree which he was certain could not fall to reach the right ears, to find fault with every least possible detail, accompanying those derogatory remarks with gestures whose practical results went merely to disarrange what had been in effect, a perfectly acceptable place of work.

Contrary to all the confident expectations and fond hopes of General Nigh Phonnoforque, this demonstration did not go to impress the Great Man with the loyalty, fastidiousness, and devotion of his lieutenant, but rather served only to make him feel that his own judgment was not worth two onions, and that a subordinate might all too easily and without any just cause, overstep his duties and rights.

And now comes the sad part of the tale. The accidental upsetting of a goblet, and the consequent tinkling of broken glass precipitated violent action. In a black thunder-cloud of wrath descended His Majesty harsh words rasped as lightning flared forth; and the much-taken-aback Commander of the Carrot, feeling on a par with the meanest of his spud-skinning scullions slunk with his companion out of the abode of the Mighty with his tall between his legs. That is why Waistootts and He-Men have not recently been found in especial Presidential favor.