The telephone rang. It was Willye Crosby (Mrs. Dozier) Lester speaking from Doe's Eat Place. She, Dozier, and several friends had come up from Inverness, and one of these wanted a word with us.
While "Bill" was relinquishing the receiver, at the other end of the line, Old Stuff was wondering who would be calling him from out of his distant past.
For Willye had said It was a friend of our college-days.
"Brodie," said a pleasant voice "this is 'Elizabeth Kennedy. Do you remember me?"
Just like that. The customary inanities, such as "I bet you can't guess who this is," had been cast aside. This person at the other end of the telephone wire had come directly 'to the point.
"Yes, Elizabeth," we replied, "I remember you."
Coming from a guy who has never been suspected of taciturnity, either of tongue or pen, that reply was most surely a masterpiece of understatement. For we could have been just as elaborate as had been specific. In fact, we could have been downright effusive.
Do we remember Elizabeth Kennedy? How could we forget those flaxen tresses, usually done up in biscuits, and a pair of saucer-sized gray-blue eyes that were steeped in a look of credulity toward the world in general and Old Stuff in particular.
How could we forget this little Columbus girl, close cousin of the Evanses and Bairds and her self-generated "crush" on Old Stuff? A crush incidentally, which gained momentum when Miss Elizabeth Kennedy was the guest of Miss Lola Fort at Dunleith, in the summer of 1917.
We did not mean to sound self-righteous or condescending when we told her that she was far too young to know her own mind. After all, she was yet on the sunny side of her fifteenth birthday while Old Stuff was rounding nineteen and on his way to twenty.
Nearly three years passed before we saw Elizabeth Kennedy again. Lots of water had flowed under the bridge. A war had been fought and won, and cotton was crowding a dollar a pound. It was early springtime in 1920, and the George Rifles Dance was in full swing in the mess hall at Mississippi A&M College. A couple waltzed past and we had a glimpse of blonde tresses and saucer-sized gray-blue eyes. She was taller too and lovelier than ever.
We cut in, or tried to, and told it was no break. Later on, we sat one out and tried to bridge the years since 1917. It was no dice. The credulous look was gone from her eyes and, besides that, she was ''pinned" and "going steady." "
Brodie kicked me," stated Elizabeth Kennedy quite simply, and that was the end of the interview. Thirty-two years and eight months would roll by before' our paths crossed again in Doe's Eat Place. For we had hastened to Mr. Signa's steak-and-tamale house in quick response to the telephone call.
"Yes, Elizabeth, I remember you."
So we joined the Lester steak supper, to see Elizabeth Kennedy again, and to meet her, sister, Caroline, who works in the Bank of Inverness. We reminisced with Bill and Dozier too and, afterward, they all stopped at the little house on Eureka Street. Louise Crump and Elizabeth had known each other at M.S.C.W., and Old Stuff proudly exhibited his first, edition copy of "Helen Templeton's Daughter" for all the guests to see.
Elizabeth Kennedy has lived in New Orleans for many years. She is married to Camors McFarland, who is in the insurance business. She is a member of St. Charles Avenue Presbyterian Church which, as our readers may suspect, is a pleasing thought to Old Stuff.
P.S. Oh yes, lest we forget it R. H., Elizabeth asked about you. Time was, said Mrs. McFarland, when her idea of heaven was to be dancing a no-break with R. H. Lake.
- BC.
