The Skylight Room Part two

The steady blue one near it. I can see it every night through my skylight.

I pray you let the drama halt while Chorus stalks to the footlights and drops an epicurean tear upon the fatness of Mr. Hoover. Tune the pipes to the tragedy of tallow, the bane of bulk, the calamity of corpulence. Tried out, Falstaff might have rendered more romance to the ton than would have Romeo's rickety ribs to the ounce. A lover may sigh, but he must not puff. To the train of Mo mus are the fat men remanded. In vain beats the faith fullest heart above a 52-inch belt. Avaunt, Hoover! Hoover, forty-five, flush and foolish, might carry off Helen herself; Hoover, forty-five, flush, foolish and fat is meat for perdition. There was never a chance for you, Hoover.As Mrs. Parker's roomers sat thus one summer's evening, Miss Lee son looked up into the firmament and cried with her little gay laugh:"Why, there's Billy Jackson! I can see him from down here, too."All looked up--some at the windows of skyscrapers, some casting about for an airship, Jackson-guided."It's that star," explained Miss Lee son, pointing with a tiny finger. "Not the big one that twinkles--the steady blue one near it. I can see it every night through my skylight. I named it Billy Jackson."

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Thanks.