Arsenal Technical High School - Arsenal Cannon Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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1 I' ' ' 1 LAWNXMU ER A DI Dad had only mentioned, that fatal morning at breakfast, that it was time to plant the dahlias and that the grass was growing very well in the front yard, BY when mother exploded the bombshell JOHN THOMAS -a remark which I thought very un- ENGLISH Va necessary at the time. Oh yes, she said, the grass is growing very well since we put those 'Please' signs up in the front yard, almost too well, and, John, if you have nothing in particular in mind for this morning, I thought- She needn't have gone any farther for I knew ex- actly the little scheme that all too quickly was forming in her mind. So I hastily replied, 6'Oh-er-oh yes! I do have something planned, though. You see, ,lim and I are- are going on a-a hike, pretty soon now, in fact, right away! I had hastily folded my napkin and had found that the nearest exit was the back door. I rose, swal- lowed a large piece of toast with tearful results, and said, with all the sincerity I could muster, I think I hear Jim calling for me now!7' This, of course, was not true as Jim had never been known to be the type that called for anyone. He had the most courteous habit of knocking-an act I could never quite perfect. HI think Iill go. 'flust a moment!', said my father, looking all of his six feet two inches he was in his stocking feet. You'll listen to your mother before you go parading down the street to ,lim's. Whatever she wants done, you do it, and listen to what she has to say. As if I could do anything else, I thought to myself with quite a noticeable sigh of defeat. Feeling, all in all, like a caged bird, I slowly raised my apparently heavy eyelids toward by mother's face which in every way looked the defiance I felt. I heard her remark fin what she imagined to be her most pleasant wayl, Go work off some of your vim and vigor, dear, and resist the call of the wild for the lawn mower this morning? Down the back walk I went-my destination, the garage and the lawn mower. I believe at the time, I'm sorry to say, that I even tried to kick Mrs. Collins' pet cat, Marlene, as she sunned herself on the cement in front of me. I would have succeeded, too, had not Mrs. Collins, fearing the worst, called her little darling home. Lucky cat! One last glimmer of hope sailed through my brain. Perhaps the lawn mower was lost. Maybe I had left it out in the Browns' back yard last fall and had never gone after it. If that were so, then of course neither I, nor any one else, could mow the lawn for at least a week or so. However, if I had had any such thoughts of losing our lawn mower they were immediately drowned by the opening of the garage door and the finding of not only our lawn mower, alone, but that of the Browns' also, sitting peacefully side by side in the corner, seemingly to gloat at me in the most mocking manner as if to say, 'gI'Iave you ever been fooled?', Taking a deep breath, closing my eyes, using my best will power, I grasped the thing by the neck, pulled it forward and out of the door, and began to cut the quiet, unsuspecting poor little blades of grass, beginning, as it was, a new summer. IMPHESSING THE FAMILY I had just purchased a new hat. How proud I was of my new possession! Immediately upon its arrival, I took it to my room to try it on. It looked very beautiful, I thought, with its attractive streamer down the back. Oh, how wonderful to possess a new hat! With a very broad grin I tried it on. My, but it was becoming! It added such a grown-up air to my ap- pearance. Wasnit it funny what a mere hat could do? With my head held high, I paraded with much dignity down stairs where the rest of the family had gathered. I felt that they couldn't help but be im- pressed. Glancing up from the book he was reading, my brother, Paul, exclaimed, Huh, whereid you get that? What is it, a hat? This drew the attention of the other members of the family, who hastened to express their opinions concerning my new head gear. 'f0f course it's a hat, the very latest Paris creation!', I sputtered. 4'What does it look like? That is where I made my mistake. It was just like touching a match to a haystack. That's what I'd like to know, remarked Virginia. 4'What does it look like?,' I glared at her. This only seemed to delight the family circle more. 'cDon't you thee, Thinneyf, lisped Ruth Ellen, uthe's mathquerading ath a baby for Halloween. Thee the ribbonth down her back. Why, Ruthie, anyone can see that isn't a Hallo- ween costume, broke in big brother Robert. I began to think I had found a friend among this band of art- less children, but not for long. uAnyone with any sense, he continued, could see that she was wearing it to scare the rats and mice awayf, Well, if it scares them as much as it does me, we'll soon be rid of them, remarked John. I thought at first she was Dracula's daughterf' Dracula,s daughter, hali' exclaimed Elizabeth. 'LShe looks more like the bride of Frankenstein? By this time I was furious. I turned around and rushed back to my room. Again I looked at myself in the mirror. My, but that old hat looked terrible! Why had I let those heartless people spoil my new purchase for me? BY MARGARET MILLER ENGLISH Ia 19

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,, - BY DONALD WINTIN ENGLISH vue 18 RUN -AWAY HEIRESS fBASED ON A NEWSPAPER srorzrj Frank Howe Terril was pacing the Hoor. Left to right-right to left-he had paced floors for years in every sort of situation. He knew the ropes. He paced when his breakfast was late, when his valet did not run up the stairs four at a time, and when his daughter Nancy did not carry out his exacting whimsies. His present pacing concerned Nancy. Drat it! Why must she act this way? Wasn't it enough that he had to be both father and mother to her? She was old enough now to have a little sense. This wasn't the first time she had gone away like this. Oh, of course, the other times didn't really matter. His private detectives had been too quick. She should realize how he felt about it. She was going to inherit the Terril estate some day. But this was different. He somehow felt that this was serious. She was gone and would not return. He felt sick. Then there was that Frederic person. He had been loitering around the place for some time now. The study window on the second floor offered an excellent View of the yard below. Oh, he had seen them. Fred- eric would cross the field to the west and hide on the far side of the hedge. Nancy would come out in an amaz- ingly short time and busy herself with watering the fiowers. Of course, it was pure accident that her watering tasks took her nearer and nearer the hedge behind which Frederic, or Freddie as she called him, was hiding. If he were not near-sighted, he would have been certain that a hurried kiss was exchanged. But he preferred not to accept the horrifying testimony which his eyes offered. Then they would pass, hand in hand, from his vision, and he would go to his chair and fret and fuss. Ever since Freddie had unexpectedly glanced up and caught him looking at them, he had imagined all sorts of things, Freddie pleading with Nancy, asking her to let him take her away. What did Freddie call him? 4'Old Hawk-Eye, probably. As soon as he had discovered that Nancy was not on the grounds, the three Terril cars had been dis- patched on a now customary errand. Nancy was always running off like this. First it was with Harold, then with Vance, then Berkwell, then Tom, and now Freddie. His detectives had always intercepted them. Reverend Lane's wasn't far. Nancy had always been very, very certain that white-haired Reverend Lane would marry her. His traditional summer wedding gift was a tall, refreshing glass of lemonade, and he always kept pitchers of it on hand. Frank Terril went to the window. One of the cars was entering the drive. He could not tell if it held Nancy and Freddie. What if the driver had been too late? But he must not think of it. He could hear someone entering the house. Whether it was one person or more, he couldn't tell. A polite knock at the door, then Nancy and Freddie entered. Nancy was crying softly, and Freddie was manfully trying to hold back the tears. He attempted to speak to Nancyis father, but no sound came. He had prepared a little speech as they sped back in the car. He was going to tell '4Old Hawk-Eye that he had no right to interfere with Nancy's happiness. He was going to be bold and ride the proverbial white horse to slay his love's enemies. But his dry tongue and rebellious lips would not form the words. Franklin Howe Terril was a benevolent man. Thus it was that in a few moments the difficulty was smoothed over. Nancy, age five, and Freddie, age six, had promised never again to go so far for a glass of lemonade. UN TIME-1:10 The train despatcher at the Rochester, New York, depot stepped out on the runway apron of the station platform and glanced westward. The first sec- tion of the eastbound Twentieth Century Limited was due at 1:10 A. M. It was then nearly BY 1:09. He could not hear her yet, but ROBERT BURFORD he knew the tiny dot of light far down ENGLISH Vue the track to be the headlight of the Century. As the train advanced through the night, the spot grew stead- ily larger, and suddenly the railroader became con- scious of the roaring of the huge locomotive as she climbed a slight grade. The twin ribbons of steel began reflecting the beams of amber colored light that was then flooding the station platform, as a spotlight floods with light the stage of a theatre. Then the track began to groan under the steady beat of the swiftly approaching locomotive's mighty seventy-nine-inch drivers. As the great engine came nearer, the ground trembled. Down the heavy rails came the huge Hudson-type loco leaving the miles stretching out behind her and her precious load of Pullmans through Buffalo, Erie, Cleveland, Toledo, South Bend, and the La Salle Street Station in Chicago where she started. Since leaving Chicago at 3:30 P. M. the twelve Pullmans had rolled over six hundred sixteen miles of track. Accompanied by a deafening roar the long, heavy train bore down on the despatcher like a projectile out of the night. Every second brought the rushing levia- than of the rails ninety feet nearer until the wide con- crete runway apron suddenly spread out on her left as the train entered the station at Rochester. He instinc- tively retreated closer to the office door as the massive throbbing locomotive thundered past. He waved a hasty greeting to the lanky fireman leaning out of the cab window up above. In a split second the despatcher caught a blurred view of the Icgntinued on Page 391

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of 1. Sunset-Timegby Harold Whitaker 2. The High ,lump-by Ralph Williams 3. Caught in the Act-by Don Bell