Anna Head School - Nods and Becks Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

 - Class of 1920

Page 12 of 74


Anna Head School - Nods and Becks Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1920 Edition, Page 12 of 74
Page 12 of 74

Anna Head School - Nods and Becks Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1920 Edition, Page 11
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Anna Head School - Nods and Becks Yearbook (Berkeley, CA) online yearbook collection, 1920 Edition, Page 13
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Page 12 text:

F i f t y -F i f t y I ' usT A MiNUi ' E, old fellow, broke in Conway Thurston; do you want me to prove to you that there are things to write about here at home .■ ' That one doesn ' t have to be an opium fiend to write about one? And that Paris and the Orient aren ' t the only places strange things happen? I didn ' t mean that, burst out Tom West. Of course strange things happen here in America, but in Paris or in the Orient one — Listen, Tommy, interrupted Tliurston; what do you want to bet me that from here to New York we don ' t come face to face with a story — a bully good one? Fifty dollars, cried West, eagerly. Righto, Tommy. And the two men shook hands solemnly and started down the road toward the train. Thurston looked down at the boy by his side, an amused yet thoughtful look in his eyes. This son of his dearest friend, clever with his pen when the spirit moved him, had suddenly grown restless. He wanted to go away somewhere, to new places for new inspirations. At Thurston ' s suggestion they had ridden out to the country, the wdiile talking the whole thing over to this result — fifty dollars if they ran across the theme for a short story on the way back to New York. Thurston smiled to himself. He hoped Fate would be good to him. A sudden gust of wind sent a sheet of paper fluttering from the side to the center of the road a few feet in front of them. Thurston ' s eyes brightened. That, he said, might be the missing sheet of a will or a page from the diary of the girl who lives in that picturesque farm down the road, ' ou know, the one who loved the summer boarder who promised to — It might be, interrupted West, dryly, as he examined the paper. But it happens to be a receipt for an incubator. Romantic, isn ' t it? he added, ironicall} ' . as he crushed the paper in the dust beneath his heel. 181 -fe

Page 11 text:

DITORIAL Hx icniTORiAL, SO Webster says, is that pertaining to or written by an editor. Now, since maidenly modesty prohibits indulgence in the first attack, we find by the process of elimination an editorial is merely that written by the editor. There is no hint as to what that should cover nor discuss, you notice. ' ell, perhaps it was this very indiiTerence which caused the present-day situation, for you know, surely, that the editorial now (especially in student publications) is almost completely ignored (especially by student readers). It is. therefore, with not one rosy illusion on the subject of our importance that we take pen in hand — inspired to do our duty. Ah, duty ! Unconsciously the keynote of these last few vyeeks in school is touched. A time has come for the seniors when there are moments of genuine thought and reflection. What ha e we gained — what ha e we gi en to our school days? And, then, what are we to gain — vyhat are ye to giye to the future days? Seldom do we let oursehes use that word duty (it sounds so unfash- ionable!). But now, in the midst of dressmakers ' appointments, class-play rehearsals, and vague plans for isits with those girls who live far away and are in such danger of slipping out of our li es — in the midst of all this bustle comes a feeling that it is our duty at this time to pledge oursehes in some way for this coming change in our lives. ' ell, it is our duty. It is our immediate duty to board the Twentieth Century Unlimited called Service and to tra el with the real people of today who arc trying to make the world just a little more liveable for everyone. Our oppor- tunities have been exceptional ; our aims and ideals should be exceptional, too. And so, dear readers (few, but faithful), our editorial that is a sincer , ' plea for a pledge to Service. [ I

Page 13 text:

The rest of the w alk tu llu- station was in silence. Thurston looked hopefully about the platform when they arri ed. Railroad stations were generally interesting places. Howe ' er, there was no one but a girl, most uninspiringh- rouged and powdered. When they boarded the train and entered the car Thurston looked about e.xpectantly and was satisfied. There was only one occupant in the train, but that was enough. .She was young and good to look at. The deep mourning outfit which she wore was strangely out of [ilace with her .f outh and fairness. Prett v young and de ilish good-looking for a widow, whisiiered Thurston as he selected the seat behind her. Xow, here might be the story of — He got no further. From the other end of the car came a shrill, Why, Mame, where ' d you blow from? Gee! and look at the duds! All dolled up for a funeral? Xaw, Liz, drawled the fair widow; the Missus ' takin ' ofif her mournin ' an ' — Thurston turned disapjiointedly to West. But that young man was gone. He found him sitting dejectedly in the back of the car. It ' s always that way, Conway, ' est said. Nothing ever as it seems, everything practical and commonplace. Thurston didn ' t answer. His own faith was beginning to Ijc shaken. Maybe West was right. At last they arri ed in New York and were a part of the crowding mass of humanity at the Grand Central Station. A ' est turned to Thurston. Well, old scout. he said, how about that fifty? But Thurston was not listening. est followed the direction of his gaze. There on the edge of the crowd was a girl. .And such a girl ! In a great squirrel cape and dainty turlian, with exquisitely buckled slippers playing hide-and-seek beneath her velvet gown, she was the essence of 3 ' outh and style. As W ' est looked at her he had a strange feeling he would never forget her. Indeed, he wondered how anyone could. For she was the living symbol of romance, with a face that held a thousand dreams. Suddenly he was aware she had caught sight of him and was frantically waving to him. He turned ini|uiringly to Thurston, who said, Go, Tommy, she ' s beckoning to you. But I don ' t know her, cried West. That ' s all right ; we ' re in search of a short story and remember how many times opportunity knocks. Seeing that Thurston was in earnest and remembering the girl, est elbowed his way through the crowd to her. Oh, Cousin Bill, she cried impulsively, I knew I would recognize vou at once — and you knew me, too, didn ' t you? Isn ' t it thrilling to think you ' ve come all the way from Hawaii and we ' ve never seen each other before and vet we recognized each other at once ? Yes, lied Tommy, bravely. Come, the car ' s over here. I ' ll take xou home at once.

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