Those of us of my generation went in for a good time together. The girls were of that age when a taste for mischief predominates. One night when I was getting ready for bed, I found the legs of my pajamas sewed up. When I had ripped the sewing, got them on and tumbled into bed, I found the sheets scratched. I had turned off the light, so, springing out of bed, I tiptoed hastily to the floor, opened it and was in time to grab the last of a bevy of girls who ran away in the darkness.
Throwing my arms around my captive, I gave her a smack, she struggling to be free, then let her go. Slipping back into my room, I turned on a light, and there, sticking onto the breast of my pajamas, was an elongated pin of chased gold set in the center with a single sapphire. The problem was to identify the girl I had kissed by discovering the owner of the pin. I consulted with my men cousins, and it was decided that I should put the article up at auction at the Thanksgiving dinner, bids to be accepted only from the men. 