Fish-wrapper

WHAT BROUGHT on my sudden adversion to anything scanty (in the old scanty town) was that re­cent letter by a well-meaning lady who objected to the brevity of costumes worn by our local high school majorettes. “Indecency,” I believe, was one of her stronger words. And, by golly, I think she’s right. By 1922 stan­dards. Of course, in those days they didn’t advertise hinder-binders in the local fish-wrappers.

When I arrived at a banquet to do a story about local volunteer firefighters, one of the volunteers said, “Come on in. So you work for the local fish-wrapper, huh?”

One little news article—all right, three, but one of them’d been in the local fish-wrapper and shouldn’t count—and every bartender in the area knew about him and Ginny working together, because they were worse gossips than a cul-de-sac of 1950s housewives.