Two world-weary alumni were sipping their cool mint juleps in the Stork Club the other day, trying to forget an earth where every conceivable mystery is suspected of undermining civilization, and is therefore being duly investigated by Dies et al. Suddenly they recognized the presence of a sordid and stark reality. In the conversation of two of the season's buds at the next table, they learned of an all-pervading influence of another color.

"Have you heard about Cynthia's wedding?" It was a rhetorical question. "Well, you know in the beginning they were going to be married during the first week of June, but Mr. Buttress, that's John's father, has to go back to Harvard for his twenty-fifth reunion then. The next date was the thirteenth, but John has to be at Harvard for his annual club dinner. By this time Cynthia was really impatient, so the twentieth was decided upon. Once more procrastination struck, as Dicky, that's John's brother, found he couldn't get down that day because he had to take an entrance exam for Harvard. Cynthia and her mother promptly slated the wedding for the twenty-seventh. John threw a fit, because it seems that the Harvard-Yale boat races are that week-end, and he's never missed once since his graduation."

As the young ladies moved away, some scraps of conversation caught the alumni ears. It was something about a July wedding.