Don’t you remember that pretty verse Jimmy Case sings?”
Tilly’s words had an air of finality. She had been a bit uncertain herself until Sam put in an oar. There was another rhyme which sang through her consciousness making her undecided. It was:
Gaudeamus igitur
Juvenes dum sumus
that she had heard the college boys sing. But on the whole she inclined toward Arma, for Gaudeamus did not sound like a female. So the baby was named Arma Virumque Jones.
Arma was a romantic little soul. She thirsted for the unusual and wonderful. As she grew to girlhood she invested those dear to her with imaginary virtues. Tilly was a lovely and stately lady and Sam the personification of all that was noble and good. She was a beautiful girl, with curly brown hair and a clean mind. With her twelfth birthday began her affairs of the heart. Her first flame was a beautiful Italian boy who dwelt in an old house in the alley. This flame was quenched when she encountered him after he had consumed a larger ration of garlic than was usual. The next conflagration was started by the grocer’s boy, but this was quenched when she overheard him swear. This was followed by a passion for a young and rather dull divine who never dreamed of his conquest, so that it died of inanition.
Bomb the Second
The three were sitting in the living room one evening in June. Sam and Tilly were reading and Arma was getting out her lessons, when a resounding knock on the door was heard, and a great big, strong, jolly man burst in, shook hands with Sam and noisily proclaimed how glad he was to see “this darn old fraud” once more.
Sam’s face lighted with pleasure as he welcomed him and introduced him as “Billy Gesundheit, my old friend and comrade in Pittsburgh.”
“My word, what a name!” thought Tilly, “But what a fine looking man. He seems too good to be true.” This was during her trip upstairs to inspect the guest room where he was to spend the night.