The wife of a professor at Princeton had half a dozen undergraduates to luncheon a few days ago. They all sat around politely, making conversation with the noted ease of Princetonians, until luncheon was announced, whereupon they all trooped hungrily to the table. There they sat and waited quite a while, still politely. The hostess chatted, with occasional back glances at the kitchen door, and the young men chatted. The hostess tinkled a bell. Nothing happened. She finally excused herself and went into the kitchen. She came back in a couple of minutes, twinkling a little around the edges.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but my maid says she danced with several of you young men last night and simply can't bring herself to wait on you. She says she went to a carnival and danced with lots of young gentlemen."

A majority of the young gentlemen present acknowledged that they had been to a jamboree in town the night before and had danced a bit. They didn't get their lunch until the cook primped up and came out and waited on them herself. --The New Yorker.