Corona High School - Coronal Yearbook (Corona, CA)

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With this determination, Ed finally went to sleep. But in the early morn- ing he awakened. It was raining, or probably he was dreaming. To make sure he went to the window and put his head out. He certainly was awake, for the rain fell in torrents and the lightning flashed. Shoes began to fly, the pillows took a turn around the room, lifeless coat and trousers became ani- mated and, Glory, Glory, Hallelujah rang through the room. It was raining, the tennis court would be drenched and no game could be played. It would have to be delayed a week, and in a week Ed felt he could make up a year s work. Why, I will study my head off, and play in that game too, he cried. “And won’t Marie be proud?” A surprised lot of teachers listened to Ed Mace’s daily recitations the next week and successfully passed them in an examination on the last month’s work. The evenings at Marie’s were now spent very differently from those before, for they pored over their books diligently, Marie explaining very clearly, although she was somewhat surprised at Ed’s sudden desire for knowledge. Friday came and Miss Brown congratulated Ed on the good work he had done through the week. “1 hope,” she said, “that you will do as good work in the future, Ed — but never mind, I am going to be at the game to- morrow and see you win for us.” “She really isn’t so bad after all, and pretty human, too,” thought Ed, as he joyously left the room. The next day Marie, resplendent in High School colors, was one of the first on the bleachers. And after the game was over, “the best game of the season, everyone said, she settled back in the seat saying to herself, “I knew it, 1 just knew all the time he would win.” E. F„ ' 14. Page High teen

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These words seemed to arouse Ed. Oh, how he had practiced and how he had planned to show his opponents how to play tennis and win cups for their school. It certainly had never entered his head that he would have to stay out of the game, as last year he had been considered the best tennis player in the country. With a toss of his head as if to say, “I ' ll show you if I don ' t play.” Ed left the class room. He tried to be cheerful but was evidently disheartened. A gloomy looking young man that evening went as usual to see a dear friend of his. A friend so dear that he could usually be found at that same place, at he same time, every night. “Good evening, Ed, “welcomed Marie’s mother, as the gloomy young man came in. Come right in, Marie will be down in a minute.’’ Those words were always a part of his welcome, “Marie will be down in a minute. Why couldn t she have been the one to have welcomed him that night, that night of all others, he thought, as he sat down. Soon Marie s mother was called from the room and Ed was left alone with his thoughts, which were many but not very pleasant. Penny for your thoughts, Mr. Soberness, teased Marie as she came skip- ping up in front of Ed a minute later. ‘Why, I — I — was think — thinking — ” stammered Ed. Yes, of course, thinking of how you are going to win tomorrow. I can hardly wait myself,” put in Marie. But, Marie, what if the school loses?” questioned the young man. Lose! lose, when you play, you? Why, impossible. Didn ' t you beat Simpkins, the shark player of the North? M arie exclaimed excitedly and a little horrified. Well — but I — I — you see, well, maybe I won’t play, I am — ” Ed at- tempted. ‘Quit teasing, Ed. Be sensible, you really don’t look like a lunatic. You know you are going to play, and so do I, said the girl, who was becoming a little angry. It was some time after that Ed looked up at the little French clock on the mantle, which was striking nine, and with a “dang that old clock,” picked up his cap. I will surely be there early with my cap and banner ready to see you win for our school, called Marie as she waved a good-bye to Ed. Why couldn t I be as gay and happy as everybody tonight,” thought Ed, as he banged his bedroom door and prepared to retire. What will Marie think of my not playing, and how can I tell her? I won’t tell her, for I am going to play. I must and shall play in that game.” Pape Seventeen

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“THOSE NEGROES” “Will you please ’scuse your presence from the room. Miss Marg ' ret,’’ asked Aunt Jane, coming into the den where Margaret sat reading. Margaret West was making her first visit to the South, having lived all her life in sunny California, where one rarely ever sees a negro, and she, there- fore, found them very interesting and amusing. “Of course I will,” she answered, laughingly, and picking up her book she went out on the porch, where her cousin was idly swinging to and fro in the hammock. There comes another man after work! Mother advertised in the papers, you know, for a hired man, and at least a dozen have answered. 1 think she has hired one now, though, Mary said as a negro man came up the drive-way and went around the house. “Listen, and we ' ll soon find out, I can hear them talking.” “No. I ' ve already hired one this morning; 1 guess you’ve come too late; I’m sorry, though.” “I proznozticate I have, Missis.” Proznozticate! laughed Margaret; they do coin such funny words.” Just then a carriage drove up to the house next door and a fine looking young man stepped out and turned to help his mother, a frail little woman, out of the carriage. Margaret picked up her book and began to read, but Mary smiled to them as they came slowly up the walk. “You might at least speak to them, Margaret,” said her cousin. “For my part, I think he’s awfully nice.” Well, then. I’ll let you have him, dear,” and Margaret began her story again. “You know very well, Margaret, honey, that he’d never look at me again after seeing you.” Oh, Aunt Jane is making some more of my kind of cookies. I smell them, and I am as hungry as a bear. I’m going to the kitchen to get me some, right away,” Margaret said, as she ran into the house. Uncle Mose, Aunt Jane’s husband, was just bringing in the fresh vegeta- bles for dinner as Margaret entered the kitchen. “Well, Miss Margaret, he said, “did you have a good time las’ night?” “I certainly did,” she answered, “one of the best times I ' ve had since I came.” “Well, he said, shaking his head, “I certainly does ’preciate that, 1 cer- tainly does, most as much as if I’d been there myself.” Margaret tried not to laugh, and said, Well, Uncle Mose, how are you feeling today? ” “Oh, jes’ tol’able, Miss, jes’ tol’able!” Page Nineteen