Issue 25 and Volume 83.

FALSE ALARMS NO FIRE ESCAPES A young lady, a home demonstration agent, found it necessary to spend the night in a small town hostelry in Arkansas. Being a prudent miss and doubtful of the fireproof qualities of the inn, she asked the clerk the location of the fire escape. “At the end of the hall,” he said. However, there are two ends to a hall. Having deposited her luggage, the young lady set forth to ascertain the exact location of the fire escape. Down the corridor she went until she reached a door at the end, a door that bore no room number, nor any markings, whatsoever. This, she concluded, must be the fire escape. She opened the door. A masculine September Morn, modestly enshrouded with steam from a sputtering shower nozzle said. “Awk.” “I-I beg your pardon,” the young woman stammered with the agitation of extreme embarrassment. “I was…

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