There was, however, a dreary minority in the traffic jam that found certain aspects of this frolicsome pastime highly objectionable. One of this number, particularly, was Mrs. Priscilla Carthwright, a matron of some standing who hadn't been known as "Prissy" during her girlhood for nothing. Mrs. Carthwright suffered an unconditional defeat, however, in her efforts to defend the sacred confines of her limousine from the ravages of the joyous herd. Crouched on ample knees on the seat of the car, she came dangerously close to falling into a swoon as the door burst open under her protesting, bejeweled hand, and a lank young man burst unconcernedly into her august presence with a broad wink and a primitive whoop that was strongly reminiscent of the cries of avenging Indians in the days of the early West. In the end, though, drawing on the waning reserves of her courage, Mrs. Carthwright managed to waylay one lean bespectacled reveler long enough to score her own little moral triumph. "What does all this mean, young man?" she demanded imperiously. "Just where do all these people think they are going?" The young man paused long enough to take the question under thoughtful consideration, obviously a matter that had heretofore not troubled him. "I think we're marching on Washington," he murmured finally, "to demand our rights." "Just as I thought!" Mrs. Carthwright boomed triumphantly, dismissing her victim. "Communists!" And having said, she settled back in the seat, cross-legged, her features fixed in a glassy stare that suggested haughty royalty in exile. And there were other unfortunate incidents. Particularly bad was the one in which Toffee, completely innocent of purpose, threw the door open on a young couple locked in an amorous embrace. The lovers, looking up to find themselves observed by what appeared to be a surging sea of prying eyes, came close to sharing an hysterical fit. The young lady, in a seizure of confused madness, turned on her adored one and dealt him such a stinging blow in the mouth that several of his front teeth were completely dislodged. Clearly, it was the death blow to a beautiful, if careless, romance. More gratifying was Toffee's foray into a bus load of energetic young basketball players. Though the delighted redhead was relayed from seat to seat and finally lifted out of a rear window with all dispatch, when she waved good-by to her instantly-won admirers, she was wearing a crimson sweat shirt with a golden N splashed across its front. Also, she had been unanimously elected the team's mascot in favor of an infant pig.