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Page 67 text:
The Abbot Circle 19 2 7 " Jfistf), SceCream anb . . . " A suppressed feeling of excitement pervades the atmosphere of Draper. As the hands approach nine o ' clock general unrest spreads like wild-fire through the building. The door bell buzzes, and an instant later the bell announcing the end of study hour rings. A door slams, a sound of running feet, a triumphant laugh, an excited giggle, and the filtering up from below of a faint, disquieting odor of Lucky Strikes. As the maid rushes along the hall calling out one name repeatedly, I settle back with a relieved sigh to steady work on Latin prose. With slow com- prehension I realize it ' s only Friday night — and callers! Pauline Humeston ' 27 Ccstaap Sunday evening — girls chatter down the steps of Abbot Hall after chapel. I cannot speak. The inspiration of the speaker has lifted my thoughts from their prosaic path. I dream. I soar — . The fresh snow has piled in deep rolling swerving drifts. The bare dark trees are outlined with it. The circle is a huge birthday cake — all frosty white ; the snow is squeaky under our feet. The beauty of it all leaves me breathless. I am opposite the lovely gate with its soft light; I look back at Abbot Hall — white columns — round shining light — snow- covered steps. The frail feathery birch tree is silhouetted against the black sky. The diamond stars — the little dipper — they make my heart almost burst. My precious little time is going — I am almost to the door. I never am able to com- plete the magic circle. I am dismayed. The spell has gone. More inspiration — more changing shadows on snow — more stars — next Sunday night? Mary Belle Maxwell ' 27 W t Cfjapel Pell There ' s a bustle in the morning That starts the busy day; There ' s a hurry-worry atmosphere That drives all thought away; There ' s a bell that clangs its warning To those who loiter late; Who can forget the chapel bell That rings as sure as Fate! Helen Connolly ' 27 59
Page 66 text:
The Abbot Circle 19 2 7 Buxom Lass (Now in front of mirror viewing herself). Well, anyway, I ' m going to try to lose; then I ' ll see what they say. Scales I agree with you, Buxom Lass; it would be better all ' round for you to lose weight. The Slim Miss and the Buxom Lass go out, leaving the Scales to suffer in silence. ACT II Scene : The same. Time : Three iveeks later the same young ladies enter. Scales Good, here comes that cute young Miss again. She looks just about the same as she did three weeks ago. Slim Miss Daintily steps on the scales and weighs herself, and happily discovers that she ' s gained a pound and three -quarters. That ' s a bit better, but I have a long way to go yet. Scales But I hope you will always be as gentle. Buxom Lass Again with hat, coat, and shoes removed, and looking somewhat thinner, but who will always be awkward, jumps onto the scales. Quickly pushes the weight up the scales. Scales Oh dear, some people always rub me the wrong way. They are so annoying. Buxom Lass Tipping the scales at six pounds less than the time before. I knew I could lose. Oh, I ' m so thrilled! Jumps up and down on scales. Scales (Badly bruised and shaken up). Goodness, gracious me! Thank goodness she has lost a few pounds, at last, for if she weighed much more, I ' m sure she would have trampled me to pieces. Oh, we who suffer in silence! Nancy Kimball ' 27 58
Page 68 text:
The Abbot Circle 19 2 7 Refugee $arabe A gong sounds and crowds of people pour forth from the big brick building. They shove and jostle each other in a useless attempt to hasten the leaders. A fitful murmur of conversation arises. One hears various languages: French, German, Spanish, and even English. The bent figures with heavily laden arms toil painfully over the icy pavement. Progress is slow. The wintry blast chills them; they shiver and gather their shawls more closely about their heads. One wonders how many nationalities are represented — in Abbot ' s daily refugee parade. Miriam Houdlette ' 27 Btet anb ftealtf) It seems, as I look about school, that the girls are a particularly nice type. On the whole, they are a good-looking group, well dressed and of about the same conventional personality. I personally think, however, that dieting both of food and of people, when not required, is rather obnoxious. Cocoa, toast, soft boiled eggs, half an orange for breakfast ; creamed chicken on toast without mushrooms and peppers, custard pie and lettuce for lunch; tomato bisque, mashed potatoes and veal, creamed canned peas, and Washington pie for dinner, do not impress me as particularly enjoyable. I am in favor of a few green peppers and caraway seeds. When letters are given at the end of the athletic season, the speech, for which we clap until our hands are raw, is " I ' m glad to have played for Abbot " . All very true, and nice — but rather a tame speech to hand out to such enthusiastic rooters. Why not be generous to these poor unfortunates who beg for cake? " Oh, I ' m afraid of making a fool of myself! " Why not play the fool occasion- ally if it means a sign of self-development. Everyone, who is interesting, makes mistakes — if only to prove he is not a machine. After all, if we never put on the new shoes until we ' ve walked in them, are we ever going to put them on, let alone walk in them? Sydna White ' 27 jfflardb WinH March winds blew me into the world — perhaps that ' s why I love them so. When I am feeling blue and useless, a mere, unnecessary bit of dust, a cold, vigor- ous blast of wind lifts up my spirits as surely as it lifts my skirts. I sit on the hot, familiar radiator thinking, wondering, puzzling — I step out the door and a sudden gust releases a hidden spring within me so that, jack-in-the-box-like, some- thing breaks loose. Ella Stonebraker ' 27 60
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