[Illustration:  WORKING GIRL]

“Did you notice the Ingenue that guaranteed you the Regular Eggs,” asked the Advance Agent.

“You mean the Young Woman who was here a moment ago?”

“That’s the Party!  You saw her?”

“Certainly.”

“Now, I’ll tell you all about it, if you promise not to put it in your Book.”

“Really, you know, I had intended to Use it,” said the Traveler.

“All right, then; put it in, but don’t use any Names.  This is Under the Rose, remember.  The Proud Working Girl that was in here just now is my Sister.”

And the Englishman was deeply Perplexed.

MORAL:  Brothers in Name only.

THE FABLE OF THE LODGE FIEND, AND THE DELILAH TRICK PLAYED BY HIS WIFE

A Woman who had done nothing to Deserve it was the Wife of a Joiner.  He was the K.G. of one Benevolent Order and the Worshipful High Guy of something else, and the Senior Warden of the Sons of Patoosh, and a lot more that she couldn’t keep track of.

When he got on all of his Pins he had Sousa put away.

Night after Night he was off to a Hall up a Dark Stairway to land some Unfortunate into the Blue Lodge or the Commandery or else Over the Hot Sands.

He carried at least twenty Rituals in his Head, and his Hands were all twisted out of Shape from giving so many different Grips.

In the Morning when he came out of the House he usually found some one waiting on the Door-Step to give him the Sign of Distress and work the fraternal Pan-Handle on him.  He subscribed for the Magazines that were full of these sparkling Chapter Reports, and after that, if he had not spent all his money going to Conclaves and Grand Lodge Meetings, he paid Dues and Assessments and bought Uniforms.  He had one Suit in particular, with Frogs and Cords and Gold Braid strung around over the Front of it, and then a Helmet with about a Bushel of Red Feathers.  When he got into this Rig and strapped on his Jeweled Sword he wouldn’t have traded Places with Nelson A. Miles.

His Wife often said that he ought not to leave her and take up with a Goat, and that she could use on Groceries some of the Coin that he was devoting to Velvet Regalia and Emblematic Watch-Charms, but he always tried to make it Right with her by explaining that he had Insurance in most of these Whispering Organizations, so that she and the Children would come in for a whole Wad of Money.  The Wife thought it was too long to wait.  He seemed to be in a Fair Way to live another Century and keep on paying Assessments.

There was no use in Arguing with him.  When a Man gets to be a confirmed Joiner he is not Happy unless he can get into an unlighted Room two or three Nights a Week, and wallop the Neophyte with a Stuffed Club, and walk him into a Tub of Water, and otherwise Impress him with the Solemnity of the Ordeal.

The real Joiner loves to sit up on an elevated Throne, wearing a Bib and holding a dinky Gavel, and administer a blistering Oath to the Wanderer who seeks the Privilege of helping to pay the Rent.