Glen Cove High School - Profile Yearbook (Glen Cove, NY)

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Page Two THE RED AND GREEN “Of what shall a man be proud, if not of his friends?” Forty-six years in the printing business in Glen Cove have earned many friends for the Echo Press of whom we are justly' proud. Especially' are we proud, however, to be associated with our friends of the Glen Cove High School in the publication of their Annual, the Red and Green. The high scholastic standing and athletic achievements of the Glen Cove High School is a matter of pride for all Nassau County, and we are glad to avail ourselves of this opportunity to pay our tribute to the Superintendent, Principal and teaching staff, whose labors have been so successful.

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THE RED AND GREEN Page One Glen Cove Mutual Insurance Company GLEN COVE, N. Y. Fire and Automobile Insurance Insure your property in this old reliable company. Financially sound and conservatively managed. Automobiles insured against the hazards of fire, theft, property and collision damage. Policy contracts easily understood, liberal in its provisions and gives complete protection. Lowest rates. Losses adjusted satisfactorily and claims paid promptly. Consult this office regarding your insurance requirements. MEMBER GLEN COVE CHAMBER OF COMMERCE Gude, Winmill C Co. Members New York Slock Exchange SECURITIES BOUGHT FOR INVESTMENT OR CARRIED ON CONSERVATIVE MARGIN 20 BROAD STREET, NEW YORK Branch Offices 7 EAST 45th STREET 3 GLEN STREET, GLEN COVE, LONG ISLAND

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THE RED AND GREEN Page Three One beautiful evening in the early part of September, Father, Mother and I were seated on the veranda, tranquilly enjoying the golden splendors of a summer sunset, when Mrs. Doer, a neighbor of ours, came hurriedly across the lawn. M rs. Doer is a short, stout, wheezy little lady, who once in her youthful folly had attempted to dye her hair black; but due to some mishap or other, her hair had dyed a dull mahogany red, which Mrs. Doer is wont to declare is a shade so uncommon that few people indeed can profess to have seen anything like it. This particular evening her hair was concealed under a bright green shawl. To the people of the neighborhood in which Mrs. Doer lives, this shawl is a never failing topic of conversation for it is only on rare state occasions that Mrs. Doer dons her finery and sallies forth to meet the wondering glances of a curious people. Now, as she slowly mounted the veranda steps, we waited with bated breath to see what the matter might be. Much to my surprise, her usual sour countenance was lighted up by a genial smile; she beamed placidly on us, for a moment, with such evident self-satisfactjon that it caused us to wonder anew. Turning to Mother she said, “Won’t you and Mr. Karn come right over and spend the evening at my house?” “No,-” she continued, “I won’t take any excuse.” So without more ado, entirely regardless of both Mother’s and Father’s unwillingness to accompany her, she ushered them off the veranda and down the walk towards her home. “Oh, Miss Marie,” she called back, as an afterthought, “Wouldn’t you like to come along too? Perhaps you will be frightened, if you stay in the house alone.” “Never fear,” 1 gayly called back, “Burglars hold no terrors for me,” for certainly anything was better than an evening’s captivity in Mrs. Doer’s stuffy little parlor, with its hard, uncomfortable, straight-back chairs. Thus, being left to my own diversions and just a little nervous, I thought sleep would be the best solace for my loneliness. It seemed to me, I had been in bed and asleep but a few moments, when a loud clap of thunder rudely awakened me from my dreams. Outside the rain was coming down in torrents; the lightning flashed across the sky; the thunder sounded and resounded; the wind blew furiously among the tree tops; it was as if all the gigantic forces of nature had taken a stand against me. I was terribly and completely alone. Just as the clock struck twelve there was a sharp flash of lightning, followed by a’ particularly loud clap of thunder. Then all was dark and still. There was a stealthy movement in my room— “What was it? What could it be?” I wanted to shriek, but my tongue lay parched and dry in my mouth, so I made no audible sound. Pulling the covers closer around me, I snuggled my head deeper into the pillows. My heart beat wildly and furiously, and my breath came in short, uneven gasps. 1 was hot and cold alternately, and my head seemed to be spinning around like a top. Finally, unable to stand the awful suspense longer, I raised myself upon my arm, and stared into the darkness. My eyes seemed to clash with another pair of intensely bright eyes that gleamed at me in the blackness. Then something sprang at my feet. I waited no longer, but jumped out of my bed, and switched on the light. There at the foot of my bed, blinking stupidly at me, lay my dog, Tulfy, who, frightened by the storm, had sought human companionship. —Florence McCann.