Page 16 Scribulus Winter Issue COED CHARACTER: PURE REASON Generally believes whole-heartedly in the equality of the sexes and asks no quarter. She doesn't need it. Fellow students look at her in askance when she appears too brilliant. Never radical. Believes a woman should prepare herself against life with a factual background. Popular in labs. Accused of aloofness when on the campus. Potential disappointment to instructors who have confidence in the capability of the weaker sex to overcome their subjugation by the male of the species. Never without a load of books, interested only in an education and you envy her her courage. Winter Issue Scribulus Page 17 AFTER TODAY continued Sarah's cheek, Emily wondered why an icicle did not start sharply from the frost-white tip of her aunt's nose. "Hello, Uncle Ray," said Emily. "Well, well, well," drawled Uncle Ray. "If it isn't my little Emily gir-rl." Emily winced as his puffy hand rubbed sleekly down her arm. "Bet you're giving the boys a time. Wishing right now you were standing on the corner talking to your best beau. Whyn't you go out and ask him in, Emily? Your Uncle Ray could show him how to treat a girl right, eh, Sarah?" Emily felt the flesh crawl in puckers of distaste along the edge of her spine. Uncle Ray's sense of humor! She smiled faintly and sat down. Emily watched Aunt Sarah, watched her mournful brown eyes and glistening finger-nails, listened to her mournful voice that ran on and on like a thinly screeching wagon wheel. Aunt Sarah was a despicable creature. A poor, vain thing spineless, brainless. Her mind caught at Aunt Sarah's words, directed at her mother. "I know just how you feel, Alice. I've been through it thousands of times." She picked at the handkerchief in her lap, staring vacantly at the tips of her long, thin shoes. "Life's pretty much of a mess. It's hell sometimes." Her voice hinted at unique suffering. Emily wondered what she was talking about. As a box is lifted from the floor to a table, Aunt Sarah lifted her eyes from her shoes to her nails. Not an imperceptible shifting of gaze, but a deliberate deposition from one spot to another. Emily sat fascinated. She noticed that the illusion was created by a slight widening of the lids, a distention of the eyeballs. Then Aunt Sarah laughed a little. "Say, you know, I was with Mrs. Greer at the charity society on Garland avenue yesterday, and the man in charge kept watching my hands as I undid the bundles. After a while he said, 'Egad, woman, you've got the prettiest hands in seven states.'" There in the silence filled only by Mrs. Spargo's dim smile Aunt Sarah laughed again, brittlely. "He said it just like that. Out of a clear blue sky. 'Egad, woman, you've got the prettiest hands in seven states.'" Emily moved her left foot from her right ankle and set both feet flat upon the floor. A car door slammed somewhere outside. Aunt Sarah was despicable. Poor silly. Eternally concerned with those long, white hands and their glittering nails. Tearing softly at the hard edges of that silence, Uncle Ray's voice laughed fatly, his mouth bulging out his cheeeks like those of the papier-mache dolls in a Mardi Gras parade. "Yes, my girl makes these old boys sit up and take notice with those hands of hers." As always, his voice broke in unexpectedly, when the subject was apparently closed. Emily stared at Uncle Ray, thinking how she hated him. That remark was not made proudly, kindly. It was insidiously insulting. And the way he said "my girl," sliding over the "y" softly, making the "r" a thing detestable. Emily kept thinking how she hated the way he said "my girl." There was something indecent in it. Fatly indecent. Fatly. Fatly. That was the only word that took in Uncle Ray completely his body, his mind, and his soul. But sitting there calmly dissecting him was, in a measure, pleasurable. Emily wondered what Aunt Sarah would do if she were to say quietly, "You're a silly, vain old woman, and your husband is a bully. I hate you both." She didn't really want to hurt them, though . . . Aunt Sarah's face curdling up queerly, Uncle Ray laughing more fatly than ever. After a while, Madaliene opened the door from the dining room. "Will you go to the store for a pound of butter, Emily? I've just used it all in the cake. I forgot we needed some for the table." Madaliene irritated Emily very nearly as much as Aunt Sarah did. But as the thin whiteness of Aunt Sarah's nose