_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ LODGE FIEND, _AND THE_ DELILAH TRICK PLAYED _BY_
HIS WIFE
A Woman who had done nothing to Deserve it was the Wife of a Joiner. He
was the K.G. of one Benevolent Order and the Worshipful High Guy of
something else, and the Senior Warden of the Sons of Patoosh, and a lot
more that she couldn't keep track of.
When he got on all of his Pins he had Sousa put away.
Night after Night he was off to a Hall up a Dark Stairway to land some
Unfortunate into the Blue Lodge or the Commandery or else Over the Hot
Sands.
He carried at least twenty Rituals in his Head, and his Hands were all
twisted out of Shape from giving so many different Grips.
In the Morning when he came out of the House he usually found some one
waiting on the Door-Step to give him the Sign of Distress and work the
fraternal Pan-Handle on him. He subscribed for the Magazines that were
full of these sparkling Chapter Reports, and after that, if he had not
spent all his money going to Conclaves and Grand Lodge Meetings, he paid
Dues and Assessments and bought Uniforms. He had one Suit in particular,
with Frogs and Cords and Gold Braid strung around over the Front of it,
and then a Helmet with about a Bushel of Red Feathers. When he got into
this Rig and strapped on his Jeweled Sword he wouldn't have traded
Places with Nelson A. Miles.
His Wife often said that he ought not to leave her and take up with a
Goat, and that she could use on Groceries some of the Coin that he was
devoting to Velvet Regalia and Emblematic Watch-Charms, but he always
tried to make it Right with her by explaining that he had Insurance in
most of these Whispering Organizations, so that she and the Children
would come in for a whole Wad of Money. The Wife thought it was too long
to wait. He seemed to be in a Fair Way to live another Century and keep
on paying Assessments.
There was no use in Arguing with him. When a Man gets to be a confirmed
Joiner he is not Happy unless he can get into an unlighted Room two or
three Nights a Week, and wallop the Neophyte with a Stuffed Club, and
walk him into a Tub of Water, and otherwise Impress him with the
Solemnity of the Ordeal.
The real Joiner loves to sit up on an elevated Throne, wearing a Bib and
holding a dinky Gavel, and administer a blistering Oath to the Wanderer
who seeks the Privilege of helping to pay the Rent.
To a Man who does not cut very many Lemons around his own House, where
they are Onto him, it is a great Satisfaction to get up in a Lodge Hall
and put on a lot of Ceremonial Dog, and have the Members kneel in front
of him and Salute him as the Exalted Sir Knight.
[Illustration: THE JOINER]
You take a Man who is Plugging along on a Salary, and who has to answer
the 'Phone and wrap up Tea all Day, and let him go out at Night and be
an Exalted Sir, and it helps him to feel that he isn't such a Nine-Spot
after all.
Now this particular Joiner wanted to be up on a carpeted Dais every
blessed Evening, having the Brothers march in front of him and give him
the High Office. His Wife, being unacquainted with the Secrets of the
Lodge Room, was unable to understand why he was so Fascinated with the
Life. She was exceedingly Inquisitive and often tried to Pump him by the
most Artful Methods, but of course he did not dare to Divulge or his
Right Arm would have Withered and his Tongue would have Cleaved to the
Roof of his Mouth, and he would have been an Outcast on the Face of the
Earth, despised by all other Members of the Royal Tararum. Now and then
he Talked in his Sleep, and she caught Expressions in regard to Branding
him on the Other Leg or putting him back into the Coffin, and her
Curiosity was intensified.
One day she read in a Veracious Newspaper that if the Left Hand of a
Sleeping Person be immersed in Tepid Water, then the Sleeper will
truthfully answer any Question that may be asked. She resolved to try it
on her Husband. She was dying to know what they Said and Did at Lodge
Meetings that would keep a Man away from Home so many Nights in the
Week.
That Night after he had come home from the Odd Fellows and passed into
Slumber she crept out and took a Low Advantage of him. She slid his Left
Hand into a bowl of Warm Water without arousing him, and he Gave Up. He
told all the Passwords, the Secret Mottoes, the Oaths, the Meaning of
the Symbols and the Unwritten Work. When he had finished she had a
Notion to Ring for a Night Cab and go Home to her own Family, but her
Better Judgment prevailed. She concluded that she would have to continue
to Live with him, no matter what she Thought of him.
She never dared to tell that she Knew, and he never Suspected. Husband
never guessed why it was that when he started out for an Evening with
the Skeletons and the Candidates she stood back and smiled at him more
in Pity than in Anger.
MORAL: _It's a Good Thing they don't Know_.
_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ APPREHENSIVE SPARROW _AND_ HER DAILY ESCAPE
Once there was a Proper little Female who Fluttered and was interested
in Movements. She was born the Year that Fremont ran against Buchanan.
All she knew about Spooning was what she had Read in Ella Wheeler
Wilcox. Time and again she said that if a Man ever attempted to Take
Liberties with her, she knew she would Die of Mortification. At Last
Reports she was Living, but she had Courted Death at least Fifteen
Hundred Times.
If a Strange Man came up behind her while she was walking Homeward in
the Dusk, she always gave a Timid Glance behind and Hurried, suspecting
that he would Overtake her and seize her by both Wrists and tell her not
to Scream. She would reach her own Door and lean against it, almost in a
Swoon, and the Strange Man would pass by, softly Humming to Himself.
Occasionally an Adventurer with Coal-Black Eyes and a Suspicious Manner
would come and sit right beside her in a Car, evidently for some
Purpose, and she would close her Lips tightly and resolve to do a Steve
Brodie out of the Window if she saw his Hand slipping over toward Hers.
Fortunately, the man kept his Eyes on the Sporting Page and made no
Move.
If she happened to be in the Waiting-Room at the Station, and a coarse
but masterful Claim Agent, or some one else equally Terrifying, happened
to come across the Room at her, she could feel her Little Heart stand
still, and she would say, "This is where I get it." After he had gone
past, on his way to the Check-Room, she would put some Camphor on her
Handkerchief and declare to Goodness that never again would she start
out to Travel unless she had some Older Person with her.
[Illustration: THE SPARROW]
More than once when she was at Home, with only a few other Persons
around the House, she saw a Large Man come up the Front Steps, and she
would be Frozen with Terror, and could see herself being lifted into a
Closed Carriage by the Brutal Confederates. She would slip a Pair of
Scissors under her Apron and creep to the Front Door, prepared to Resist
with all her Girlish Strength, and the Man would have to talk to her
through the Door, and ask where they wanted the Coal delivered.
Now and then a Caller would find her Reviving herself with a Cup of Tea.