I suppose, Wellington Frobisher thought to himself, one should write a letter. Back in his Thayer Hall room after a Christmas vacation in Muncie, Indiana, Wellington reflected upon his two weeks in the hinterlands and upon his experiences with one Eugenie Schwartz. I'm sure the girl expects a communication of some sort, Wellington mused, and I really should write to her--after all, she was very nice to me. He chuckled to himself.

Wellington thought back to the vacation. It was only after considerable study that he had invited Eugenie to Annie's Christmas party. Later, in a calmer mood, Wellington had shuddered at what lay ahead; he remembered Annie as a loud little harridan.

Nevertheless, Wellington had arrived at Eugenie's home at the appointed hour. He was met at the door by Eugenie's mother, who said, "Eugenie's not ready yet. You can come in, if you want."

"Thank you," Wellington said.

"Now let's see, which one are you?" Mrs. Schwartz asked. "Bruce?"

"No. I'm Wellington Frobisher. Gee, Eugenie must have a lot of guys chasing . . . uh, calling on her, for you to get them mixed up like that."

"Yeah. What's in the box?"

"Oh, this. It's a corsage."

"Aren't you the big spender. Let's see it. . . Wrong color. Phew. It stinks."

"Well, let's just say it smells. Heh heh."

"It stinks."

Eugenie's mother led Wellington into the living room. Seated in a large overstuffed chair was a smoking lump. "This is Eugenie's father," Mrs. Schwartz said.

"Grump," said the lump.

Fine," Wellington replied.

"Grump, grump," the lump offered.

"He asked where you were going, not how you were," Mrs. Schwartz said. "If you were sick, you wouldn't be here."

As Wellington sat down to wait, what he presumed was Eugenie's little sister descended upon him. She stepped on his white buck shoes, untied his bow tie, mussed his hair, poked her fist in his eye, and jumped in his lap. "Get off me, kid, you shed," Wellington hissed.

The lump across the room protectively growled. "Grump."

"Oh for God's sake," Wellington said, to no one in particular.

At the party, Annie pushed him toward the mob of people and shrieked, "Look, gang. It's a Hahvuhd man." Trying to pull it off, Wellington affected a graceful bow, but he received only blank stares from the assemblage. Wellington began to feel uneasy, and looked around the room for Eugenie. She was talking animatedly to two large male specimens who seemed to keep their eyes fixed on the region between her chin and waist.

"Wellington, this is George and Steve," Eugenie said. The two hulks regarded him emptily, and Wellington realized he could not possibly begin a discussion that would lead anywhere. He heard music in the background, and in desperation he said, "Would you like to dance--Eugenie, I mean?"

On the floor, Wellington had trouble keeping time to the jerky rhythms, but he found that holding Eugenie could be quite pleasant indeed. And, he told himself as he ruminated in his Thayer Hall room, that's what I did most of the rest of the vacation, in one posture or another.

He wrote, "Dear Eugenie, I'm sorry I haven't written in so long, but I've been awfully busy with finals and everything. But don't think I've forgotten you. I may have a bad memory, but it's not that bad.

"I was telling my roommates about you the other night, but they didn't believe me. Could you send me a picture of yourself? Do you have one from the waist up?

"I still can't forget the good times we had last vacation. Especially at night, it all comes back to me. I remember the night before Christmas your mother confused me with some other guy. I understand now why you are so popular.

Kennedy was here last week."

Wellington was going to sign it, "Love," but he demurred, thinking, perhaps that too will come with time. Feeling tired and vaguely dissatisfied, he went to bed.