Giddily, the Memorial Hall Clock let the wind caress her early yesterday morning in a manner reminiscent of her poignant Civil War days. But the ardor of her lusty suitor sent blood to one of her four faces so rapidly that it lost all sense of time.
She was quite unable to guide students from Oxford and Divinity Streets to their classes, for she had forgotten to record the hour last night, or at least had let it slip by too quickly. Twenty minutes fast all morning, she sent students and professors askew. Colonel Apted and his men were fortunately able to convince her of her folly later in the day and the Colonel feels he can prevent her from going wrong again.
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The Crimson Playgoer
