It Was Only Midnight (Cont.)
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Before he could answer, Aubrey continued, "Why, Miss Nelle (same people called her that at times) I caught him about one o'clock beating on the back door of the kitchen at Potter Hall. I thought for sure he was trying to break in, and when I asked him what he was doing, he told me this cock and bull story about being a dishwasher in the kitchen and that he was reporting for work:"

Fay started to speak, "But I thought. .." when Aubrey went on. "'Coming to wash dishes at one o'clock in the morning?' I asked him. I just knew then he was drunk and took him to my police office in Van Meter Auditorium. But I couldn't smell anything on his breath and when he told me he roomed at the Rock House, I decided not to arrest him. That's when I called you. "

My mother verified Fay's story and told Aubrey everything would be all right--to let Fay stay. As Aubrey was leaving, I heard her ask Fay if he was well. Fay mumbled some kind of answer as he started up the steps, but he did not attempt to explain the rather odd events which had just happened.

By this time, Howsie and I were lying quietly in our beds, planning to pretend sleep if Fay came into our room.

Fay stalked to his room in the dark, turned on the light and loudly exclaimed, "Well, I'll be hornswoggled; it's only two o'clock."

We still said nothing, and even though Fay must have been trying desperately to figure out what had happened, he did not come to our room. He just undressed and went back to bed--greatly puzzled, I'm sure.

At four-thirty sharp, I began the stove routine again, and another day started at the Rock House.

Fay never said anything to us about the incident, and of course we didn't mention it to him. After at first thinking it was odd that he did not confront us with accusations about our role in it, we later concluded that he must have been reluctant if not ashamed to tell what had happened, for fear others would not believe his story. He might have thought he just had a gruesome nightmare.

Freshman pranks will probably go on forever. It was lucky, I suppose, that this one ended as happily as it did.

Chester C. Travelstead
November 26, 1981
P.S. Fay, if you ever read this story, please forgive Howsie and me. We knew not what we were doing.

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