New-York tribune. [volume], May 06, 1917, Page 8, Image 46

About New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924

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MAKING FRIENDS WITH YOUR RELATIVES
"Well, Well, My Dear !><>>. This Is an Unexpected Pleasure."
LAST week ? de< ?ded to gel out c
the rut a bit, and call on some ?
my relatives. Meeting people,
always say, broadens one's horizoi
Friends are all righl as a steady diet
but one must see new faces occasion
ally. One owes it lu one's self t<> visi
, ? leas! an uncle a year, and if one i
ever to become worldly wise, an evening
with a maiden aunt I have found ver
instructive.
It's hard for me, as I'm rather timid
and it lakes me a long time to gel ac
cu8tomed to strangers. My friends al
ways scold me aboul it. and I know ij
I'm to get on in the world I must lean
approach folks. If I could onl.v
have three evenings in a row with am
given aunt. 1 guarantee \ e'd he ?mitt
chummy. The trouble is one can't neg?
lect one's friends, and go gadding
aboul town with relatives one hardly
know.*?. Besides, it's pretty wearing
after a hard day at the office to sit
through a formal evening with a i
ranger.
Last week I decided, however, that I
really must pet aboul more an
something of people. 1 decided on I'nek'
' Ned. I'd been putting him off ever since
I entered high -? hool on the ground that
I was rushed to death, and outside of
dance*- and public dinners and concerts.
and a show now and then, kept my nose
ty well to the grindstone. Mother
had been making my excuses for me
every week for the past ten years, and
last week she revolted. She said thai
unless 1 went that very evening she'd
tell Uncle Xed the truth: I had so little
to do that I had given tip keeping a
diary for lack of material.
I didn't mind going very much, as
everywhere I went i heard people talk
about Uncle and his folks. From hear?
say, t!??' ( Hovers seemed to be ver
cent people, and it'd b, a nice home to
have an entrance to. Not that they
were very wealthy, or anything, but, as
my mother said, her brother Ned cam"
>f very pood stock.
The Baby of the family Faces the
Situation Calmly
1 didn't relish the idea of butting
recklessly into the well ordered family
life of strangers. It was a pretty sai?
guess, too, that 1 couldn't live up to
what they'd expect, considering thai 1
was the baby of the family, and my
mother and father had been going to
Uncle Ned's regularly each week for
dinner. My mother I ? needn't
worry about his knowing me; all I'd
have to do would he to remind him that
his ms'' r's husband was my father, and
he'd recall who I was. Blood is no
thicker than wat? r.
I decided not to wear full dress. I'd
just breeze in, as if I were an ??Id friend
of the family, and had just dropped in
to have an hour's fun. My nonchalance
would probably disarm them, and they'd
forget all about formality. It'd he very
nice, mother said; Aunt Amelia had
three daughters; the eldtest was on the
staff of her finishing school piper. That
would give us something in comme
Uncle Ned himself used to do son
writing; he was secretary of his ledfl
Resides, he was a big man in the ro]
and twine business, and maybe he cou
me in the way of a big story.
I walked with calculated ease into tl
lobby of Uncle Ned's apartment lions
and assured the hallman that 1 was e:
pected, had been, in fact, for the la;
live years. I spent some terrible m?
ment s when I was popped out of tr
elevator face to face with Apartmer
4A. Maybe I ought at least to hav
vorn a tuxedo. After all. if 1 didn
maintain ;i certain dignity and reserv?
they'd jusl set me down as one of thos
fresh young reporters. I'd let ther
make all the advances.
The door opened, a dazzling youn;
lady surveyed me a moment, and threv
lier arms about my neck.
"My dear cousin." she purred ecstat
ically, "it feels so good to see you."
Reflect ?tins While a Pair of Cous
inly Arms Enfold One
1 fell gond too, but a little em
barrassed. I had been calling on girl
for years, and there were ai least two o
them who were always glad to see me
But none of them ever made me feel s<
certain of it as my cousin?what wa*
her name, again?.?Elsa. She had ex
(piisite eves of deep blue, and I wasn't
going to let my prim ideas interfere
with her amusements. It just shower
what frigid, conventional girls I hac
lveen associating with.
By the time I had taken off my
wraps. Cousin Elsa and I were on very
intimate terms. There wasn't a thing
about her I didn't know. Some day
when she was through. I promised my?
. I'd grow confidential about myself.
Maybe, if she came to a comma. I'd get
a chance that very night.
That hope was wrecked almost imme?
diately, however. Elsa's three younger
sist. ra fell around my neck, and we had
a glorious, albeit a warm reunion. It
seemed a shame t? rumple my particu?
larly combed hair and form-fitting col?
lar before Ende Ned and Aunt Amelia
had a chance to see them. .Maybe they
did it to save them the trouble. At least
I didn't have to worry about formality.
With these four ardent girls about there
wouldn't be any ice to break.
When I disentangled myself I walked
into the parlor to pay my respects to
I nele Xed and Aunt Amelia.
"Well, well, my dear boy," boomed the
voice of Uncle Ned, who seemed to con?
trol his emotions better than any of his
tour daughters, "this is an unexpected
pleasure. Your mother has been telling
us you're rushed to death."
"Why didn't you come to dinner'.'"
asked Aunt Amelia, whose face I dimly
remembered having seen somewhere be?
fore. "We had just what you like,
creamed cauliflower."
She clasped me in her arms, and I
shuddered to think what was happening
to my once form-fitting collar. Well, if
Strangers were all as ojien hearted as
// Really ?s Not So Difficult, Requiring Merely Good
Nerve, (rood Digestion and Strength to Listen to
Uncle Ned (Hopeand Twine Business) When
He Tells What Started the War
By IRWIN EDMAN
this, I was sorry I hadn't gone into tin
insurance or magazine subscription
business.
For a few minutes the aonversation
went along very Bmoothly. Aunt
Anadia asked me what I had been doing,
and told me the answer minutely. I
could see my mother's deft embroidery
in her tale. Uncle Ned listened pa?
tiently, and when Aunt Amelia left to
. ee that we got something to eat?
i reamed caul' lower, I guessed nervous?
ly?he began. .My father had told me
that, for a business man. Ende Ned was
particularly well versed in current af?
fairs.
' ncle Ned Sprays a Barrage
Fire f>f Conversation
"My boy," Ende Ned began, "I've
been wanting to discuss the European
situation with you for a long tune. The
last time you were here was back in
1912, 1 believe. Now you're a journal?
ist, and you must have a loi of inside
information about the war."
I assured him that now with the cen?
sorship and everything I hardly knew
more than any one else.
"Well. I'm only in the rope and twine
business." Uncle Ned apologized, "and
you know how it is with the business
men. We don't get a chame to read
very much, and what we do read, we
can't digest. So my opinion isn't worth
very much. Hut the way I see the
causes of the war is this: Since 1ST"
there has been a commercial ri?
valry"
For the next hour Uncle S<?i\ gave a
complete account of the causes and eon
duct of the war. He hadn't seen me since
August. 1914, and he wanted to make
sure that we liad some common back
ground to start with. 1 kept worryinj.
about Aunt Amelia; she must have goni
cut hunting creamed cauliflower.
"Of course." he ended at a quarter ti
ten, "I'm only in the rope and twin?
business, and 1 may be all wrong.
Nevertheless it's been a great treat, tc
talk it over with you: you gel so much
more chance to read and think these
things over than I do. If you come over
some night. I'll give you my own private
opinion. Well. I won't keep you young
folks any more. Elsa will never forgive
me, I'm sure, but I did want to talk the
war over with some one close to the
neves."
Elsa, the girl with the deep blue
eves, had reappeared. I blushed a little
to think how well we had known each
other v.av back over an hour ago, before
Ende Ned had started the war.
"Have you been to the Riverside this
week'.'" she began, and seemed suddenly
to recall that she must keep the conver?
sation in more literary channels. "I
suppose you don't wast" your time on
vaudeville and movies, though. You
journalists must lead a fascinating lib.
I like it immensely from the little I've
seen of it : I'm on my school paper."
Inside Stuff on the (treat Subject
of Journalism
"Papers are much the same," 1 as?
sured her.
"Thai's what I tdl mother, but she
says our school paper is nothing com?
pared to the life of a professional
writer. It must be nice to be a dra?
matic critic; getting ['we tickets for all
the show.-.. Of course, it doesn't mean
-e. much to a girl, as the fellows always
pay for the tickets anyhow."
Credit Where Credit Is Due
(From tin Youth's Companion, 1894)
Y
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y tCJJL
tkUu /.
. run- thai MLLLINS FOOD ha I used with Il b t result, in reanag thr German Princes
tac MELLIN'S food chOdm euttysthett ut the best t?teniteneut et MELLIN'S FOOD.
* ??-"? ^e*2p?1ilatJatetlmm*m DOLIBER-GOODALE CO.. Boston. Mass.
71 HE secret is out. and there /> no dodging it. Second onl\ to the Kaiser and
the Kaiserin. America must shtmldcr responsibility for the whole Hohen
/ollem brood. It was :tn \merican baby food which "with the best results" piloted
the (ierman princes through the critical periods of infantile progress. I heir
grateful parents freely express appreciation and thanks.
I
.mi
Cousin Elsa. Who Sees All the Movies, Leads An Intellectual Chat
Cousin Elsa within the next forty
minutes turned up some of the ob?
scurer corners of her life, which for
some reason she had overlooked in the
impassioned interlude when I had first
come in. She told me how the life of
leisure was beginning to be empty and
futile; how. after all, movie shows were
much alike, and how she envied girls
who had some definite purpose in life.
Still, she helped her mother with the
management of the household, and of
course 1 knew how that cut into one's
forenoons.
Down in the southeast corner of my
vest my watch ticked away relentlessly.
and as Elsa babbled on I kept wondering
how far I could have been in "Jean
Christophe" by this time. It was three
volumes, eighteen hundred pages, and I
wanted to finish it before summer. 1
was up to the place where Jean-Chris
tophe plays before the Grand Duke,
very absorbing, and seventeen hundred
pages to go.
Elsa Grows Confidential, Down
Grade, W ithout Brakes
When I came back to myself. Elsa
was still rambling on. While I had been
dreaming with Jean-Christophe she had
been growing more and more confi?
dential. I simply would have to stop it.
even at the risk of being rude. After
all. the difficulties they had with their
maid were much too private a matter to
be my business.
"Have you got around to 'lean
Christophe' yet?" I asked.
"No; it's at the Rialto, isn't it? It's
by the author of 'Joan, the Woman.'
Erank Binkley told me about it ; his
father is in the movie business in
Massachusetts. Erank is at college;
he's a terribly bright boy. Writes well
too; you ought to see the piece about
him in the Year Hook. Mother thinks
Erank comes here too often, but I see
no harm in it, do you?"
"Not if he doesn't." 1 said gravely.
I don't know how much more intimate
we would have become. Elsa's three
younger sisters appeared again just as 1
was learning how things stood between
young Binkley and herself, she wouldn't
have told it to any one, but I was her
cousin, after all, and she hadn't seen me
in live years.
Aunt Amelia insisted that we come in
for a bite. It. would have been a bite, if
! had had any moral courage. Hut you
couldn't very well spurn an orange that
Elsa peeled with the pieces stretched
(ait like a fan on a base of orange peel.
And Elsa's little sister Rhoda carved an
apple that I simply had to eat; the
harder you work the more you must
'ook out for your health. Aunt Amelia
insisted. She evidently thought 1 was
quite capable of looking out for it my?
self, for she did her best to wreck it.
Maybe she was just testing me. There
was cake which she herself had baked.
and a rarebit that the second daughter
made in a dialing dish right on the
table, and apple dumplings that Uncle
Ned's mother had sent all the way fro
the country.
At this point Aunt Amelia her?
began to perform on the chafing dis
and just as a point of family honor,
soon found myself at the eml of my thi
rarebit. My folks had presentad tl
(hating dish to her on her last weddii
anniversary, and I wanted to show h
what a tine instrument I considered I
She might think I had picked it on
I had paid my r?sped s to ever,
one's hobby in the way of food, and lu
allowed each one in turn to practise h
specialty on me. if they started out i
a second round I was goinn to ris?' i
publicly disown the whole crowd.
I arose solemnly, thanked them 1
their tender solicitations, gave one ai
look at the clock and said 1 must
going. -The four slender Yalkyri
moaned in protest. Their dear com
who came only once in five years *a
going already.
"You couldn't possibly expect to?
any more work at this hour," Am
Amelia exclaimed.
"Don't you ever take an hour off!
asked Cousin Elsa, solicitously
"Yes. indeed. I do." I said, rail
nation in my voice, "but my workfa
the night's only begun. 1 stop for ta
coffee about a quarter to three."
"I'm glad you reminded me." Ata
Amelia gasped. "I wanted to show yo
our new alcohol percolator. It'll jus
take a minute."
Unless I begin to get the courage c
my convictions. I'll never get throufl
those three volumes of "Jean-Chn
tophe." It took just thirty minutest?
get the alcohol right, and somewh?r
near one I was guzzling my fourth ca|
of coffee and protesting that it was tl*
best cup of coffee I had ever had out0
a twelve dollar and forty-nine cent ako
hoi percolator. I grew quite reckless,
begged for more.
"Let's call it a day!" I shouted jul?
lantly. "I'll call oil' work for tonight
That live thousand word article I in
tended to finish this evening can wiit*
Ell get up early in the morning and fin?
ish it."
The Percolator Brittas the El*
imj to a Close
When I had drained the percolator 1
rose again, determined this tune to le*?
Ende Ned asked me to ho sure to COB?
and continue the war discussion *m
him; Cousin Elsa feil around my neck
again and asked me not to forget toUk?
1er to see "Jean-Christophe." The thru
younger cousins wept on my should
and said I must come again so.ni?a?*
lake them to the movies.
It took me about three days to g**
back into working condition. Meeting
people may broaden one's horizon, W
it's a terrific nervous strain. I would*?*
want to dissipate that way every nijd?*
Em going to spend my evenings at nu*
quiet, bachelor dinners or liberal Cm
(lances. Perhaps once a ?? -*r'
mit myself a wild jaunt. Then I
Uncle Ned's family, say. on .Vvv Year?
Eve.