DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Reverie, v. 3, issue 3, whole 10, September 1940

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Reverie, v. 3, issue 3, whole 10, September 1940

Page 8

8                           Reverie
   "That's an awfully pretty dress you have on, Maxine," I began. "Come over and let me see it." I smiled and held out my hand but she stared at me the way Professor Masters does when I've gotten the genera mixed; so I turned to the nearest youngster. In two minutes the others were hanging on me. All but Maxine. She didn't look forlorn; merely amused.
   "Want to sit here, Maxine?" I tried again. She didn't move.
   Presently the others were telling me about their pets, and while one stammered through an excited version of how her kitty tried to reach his image in a mirror, Maxine's soft voice at my elbow said:
   "Licksie fights himself in the mirror."
   I jumped, but merely put an arm around her and said: "He does?"
   She was stiff in my clasp; she didn't answer and the other children snatched the conversational ball. Gradually Maxine's tension relaxed and presently she was leaning against me. When we filed into the big room before dismissal she slipped her hand into mine. When class was dismissed instead of running to her father she held tight to my hand and he had to come find her.
   "This is teacher," she announced proudly, almost with a grown-up air; "and this is my Daddy!"
   "I'm substituting," I said, stammering, and furious that I--a senior--should get so confused before a member of the opposite sex no matter how breath-taking he might be.
   "Goodbye, Maxine," I murmured, as he nodded with a faint smile.
   "You're coming home with us to see Licksie," she protested.

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8 Reverie "That's an awfully pretty dress you have on, Maxine," I began. "Come over and let me see it." I smiled and held out my hand but she stared at me the way Professor Masters does when I've gotten the genera mixed; so I turned to the nearest youngster. In two minutes the others were hanging on me. All but Maxine. She didn't look forlorn; merely amused. "Want to sit here, Maxine?" I tried again. She didn't move. Presently the others were telling me about their pets, and while one stammered through an excited version of how her kitty tried to reach his image in a mirror, Maxine's soft voice at my elbow said: "Licksie fights himself in the mirror." I jumped, but merely put an arm around her and said: "He does?" She was stiff in my clasp; she didn't answer and the other children snatched the conversational ball. Gradually Maxine's tension relaxed and presently she was leaning against me. When we filed into the big room before dismissal she slipped her hand into mine. When class was dismissed instead of running to her father she held tight to my hand and he had to come find her. "This is teacher," she announced proudly, almost with a grown-up air; "and this is my Daddy!" "I'm substituting," I said, stammering, and furious that I--a senior--should get so confused before a member of the opposite sex no matter how breath-taking he might be. "Goodbye, Maxine," I murmured, as he nodded with a faint smile. "You're coming home with us to see Licksie," she protested.