As the twilight was ereeping across the sky Prom the east to the west, where the criruson dye Of a gorgeous sunset was growing wan In the shadows that rise when the sun is gone In a sumptuous languor of dreamy ease And a wrapper resplendent with spots of grease, On the littlo back poroh of an upper fiat The imperial Ethel McFadden sat. In her beautiful eyes were a look demure And the hint of a soul that was sweetly pure As the morning dew in the pouting buda Or a cake of soap in a tub of suds, And the beautiful face of this West 81de queen Was suffused with a saintly, angelic inien. "How I long, how I long," she soliloquized In a voice a chorus girl would have prizod, "To be able to do, to achieve some deed For the suffering victims of sordid greed!" "Are you going to wash up the dishes, my dear?" Carne a voice from the kitchen, lnyitingly olear. But a lofty fire in her soul was Ut, And her red lips unclasped In a clear cut "Nitl"