"High-B"

Accustomed to imperfection, the world marvels when a paragon of physical attainment adds to his fame some demonstration of high mental capacity. "Brains and brawn," the newspapers call it, an old story but rare enough to command human interest in a lopsided world.

The possessor of the traditionally incompatible faculties is usually bored by undue reference to them, as was National Women's Tennis Champion Helen Wills, last week, when newspaper men panted up to ejaculate and interrogate about her election to Phi Beta Kappa. In red blazer, white skirt, her hair in a bun, she was about to play a set or two of the sport she dominates and she bounced her ball impatiently during the rigmarole of questions.

The reporters had found out that Miss Wills specializes in art at the University of California, where she is a junior*; that, in a university where an "A" average reflects virtual infallibility, her average was "high B; that, among the averages of her eleven classmates honored in the same way, hers was nearer the top of the list than the bottom, with 37 "A's", 21 "B's" and no "C's", out of a possible score of 58 "A's".

Was she going to become an artist? Indefinite, but the rumor was false that she had designed the Wills' new house; her artist-mother had done that. Would she study in the U. S. after graduation? Take a master's degree? Indefinite. Become an architect? Indefinite. Marry? No. More tennis? Yes. If a conflict between art and tennis? [Unlikely eventuality, but] "I should drop my tennis and stick to art." Domestic accomplishments? They goaded her to this: "My studies really don't leave me enough time to do washing, ironing or wash dishes at home. . . I have never cooked or sewed."

"High-B" Accustomed to imperfection, the world marvels when a paragon of physical attainment adds to his fame some demonstration of high mental capacity. "Brains and brawn," the newspapers call it, an old story but rare enough to command human interest in a lopsided world.

The possessor of the traditionally incompatible faculties is usually bored by undue reference to them, as was National Women's Tennis Champion Helen Wills, last week, when newspaper men panted up to ejaculate and interrogate about her election to Phi Beta Kappa. In red blazer, white skirt, her hair in a bun, she was about to play a set or two of the sport she dominates and she bounced her ball impatiently during the rigmarole of questions.

The reporters had found out that Miss Wills specializes in art at the University of California, where she is a junior*; that, in a university where an "A" average reflects virtual infallibility, her average was "high B; that, among the averages of her eleven classmates honored in the same way, hers was nearer the top of the list than the bottom, with 37 "A's", 21 "B's" and no "C's", out of a possible score of 58 "A's".

Was she going to become an artist? Indefinite, but the rumor was false that she had designed the Wills' new house; her artist-mother had done that. Would she study in the U. S. after graduation? Take a master's degree? Indefinite. Become an architect? Indefinite. Marry? No. More tennis? Yes. If a conflict between art and tennis? [Unlikely eventuality, but] "I should drop my tennis and stick to art." Domestic accomplishments? They goaded her to this: "My studies really don't leave me enough time to do washing, ironing or wash dishes at home. . . I have never cooked or sewed."

* Commendable at any time, election to Phi Beta Kappa at the beginning of Junior (third) year is the highest honor the Society has to bestow.