Then comes the unpacking.  It has been estimated that in the trunks of returning vacationists, taking this section of the country as a whole, the following articles will be pulled out during the next few weeks: 

Sneakers, full of sand.

Bathing suits, still damp from the “one last swim.”

Dead tennis balls.

Last month’s magazines, bought for reading in the grove.

Shells and pretty stones picked up on the beach for decoration purposes, for which there has suddenly become no use at all.

Horse-shoe crabs, salvaged by children who refused to leave them behind.

Lace scarfs and shawls, bought from itinerant Armenians.

Remnants of tubes formerly containing sunburn ointment, half-filled bottles of citronella and white shoe-dressing.

White flannel trousers, ready for the cleaners.

Snap-shots, showing Ed and Mollie on the beach in their bathing suits.

Snap-shots which show nothing at all.

Faded flowers, dance-cards and assorted sentimental objects, calculated to bring up tender memories of summer evenings.

Uncompleted knit-sweaters.

Then begins the tour of the neighborhood, comparing summer-vacation experiences.  To each returning vacationist it seems as if everyone in town must be interested in what he or she did during the summer.  They stop perfect strangers on the streets and say:  “Well, a week ago today at this time we were all walking up to the Post-Office for the mail.  Right out in front of the Post-Office were the fish-houses and you ought to have seen Billy one night leading a lobster home on a string.  That was the night we all went swimming by moon-light.”

“Yeah?” says the stranger, and pushes his way past.

Then two people get together who have been to different places.  Neither wants to hear about the other’s summer—­and neither does.  Both talk at once and pull snap-shots out of their pockets.

“Here’s where we used to take our lunch—­”

“That’s nothing.  Steve had a friend up the lake who had a launch—­”

“—­and everyday there was something doing over at the Casino—­”

“—­and you ought to have seen Miriam, she was a sight—­”

Pretty soon they come to blows trying to make each other listen.  The only trouble is they never quite kill each other.  If only one could be killed it would be a great help.

The next ban on immigration should be on returning vacationists.  Have government officials stationed in each city and keep everyone out who won’t give a bond to shut up and go right to work.

XXXIV

ANIMAL STORIES

How Georgie Dog Gets the Rubbers on the Guest Room Bed

Old Mother Nature gathered all her little pupils about her for the daily lesson in “How the Animals Do the Things They Do.”  Every day Waldo Lizard, Edna Elephant and Lawrence Walrus came to Mother Nature’s school, and there learned all about the useless feats performed by their brother and sister animals.