Kelvin High School - Kelvin Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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“and to tell us what to do this after¬ noon.” They worked on in silence while the sun grew hotter and the work became harder. Finally they saw the car re¬ turning. “Guess it’s dinner-time,” Jack said. They returned to the barn, watered the horses, and went up to the house. There was very little conversation at the table. After the meal was over, Pa said to the boys, “You keep on working in that field. I’ll be over in a while.” Lighting ' his pipe, he sat down and watched Mary wash the dishes. In a few minutes he said, “Well, I guess I’ll go and give the boys a hand out there.” But he sat still and kept on smoking. After some time he spoke again, “Guess I’ll go and help the boys.” This time he rose slowly from his chair and went outside and down the road About five they returned from the fields. Phil went into the kitchen and sat down heavily. In a few minutes Pa came in. “Better go and fetch the cows, Phil. Near milkin’ time,” he said. Phil sighed but rose from his chair and went off down the road. “Couldn’t you have gone for the cows tonight, Pa?” Mary said. “Phil’s been working hard today.” “Huh, me go for the cows,” said Pa, “with him sittin’ here doin’ nothin’.” When Phil returned with the cows Jack helped him milk them. Then they all sat down to supper. Suddenly Jack cleared his throat and said, “There’s a dance in town tonight, Pa, and Phil and me thought you might let us go.” “There’s a lot of work to be done tomorrow,” Pa said. “Let them go,” Mary said, “They’ll work tomorrow.” “No need for them to go to every dance,” said Pa. “We don’t go to every dance,” said Phil, bitterly. “I’m going anyway.” “You’re not going,” said Pa. Phil rose from the table and went out to the barn. When he returned, Mary was mending socks; Jack and Pa were reading. Phil pickel up a paper, and, after looking through it, went to bed. Next morning he rose as usual and went out to the bam. “I’m not staying here much longer,” he told his favorite horse, Prince. Breakfast was eaten in silence and the boys went out to the field again. All day they toiled in the scorching heat. That night when they were milking the cows Phil said to Jack, “Not much use us staying here on the farm all our lives. If we went away we wouldn’t have to work so hard and we’d get paid.” “Neither of us has any money,” said Jack. “We couldn’t run away.” “I could,” said Phil. The next morning Phil was gone! Mary had called him but received no answer. She found in his room a small note, which said there was no use him staying on the farm so he was going away to get a job. In the next town, the freight train stopped. A shabby figure climbed off a boxcar. It was Phil. He walked several blocks until he came to a small, white house on the corner. He knocked on the door. The woman who came to the door gasped when she saw who the dirty, bedraggled figure was. “Phil,” she cried, “what are you doing here?” “I ran away,” said Phil, coolly. He went in and while his aunt pre¬ pared a lunch, he explained every¬ thing. For days he tried to get a job and finally one day he returned and told his aunt he had a job just outside the town. He didn’t get paid much but he didn’t have to work very hard. How proud he felt when he got his first pay! All this time Pa was having his troubles on the farm. For several days after Phil left, Pa tried to get a hired man. But no one seemed to want a job. So, for several days, he was compelled to do Phil’s work himself. He finally

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FIRST PRIZE STORY—PHIL RETURNS By Irene Benoit, Room 22 Silence. Then the alarm clock began to ring shrilly. Phil jumped out of bed and hurriedly drew on his clothes—an old shirt, a worn pair of overalls, and a pair of heavy, old shoes. He went into the kitchen, lit the fire; then took the two pails off the washstand and went out to the pump. He was tall and strong¬ looking. Although he was only seven¬ teen his muscles were as large as any man’s. His face and arms were tanned, and the hand around the pump handle was large and rough. He took the two full pails into the house and went out again with two more pails, this time to the barn. The cows had to be milked. Now the rest of the family was be- binning to stir. Mother got up, hur¬ riedly combed her white hair and said her prayers. She said her prayers every morning, although Pa laughed at her and said she was wasting good time. Jack, her eldest son, got up. He dressed a little more slowly than Phil had. He was twenty and Pa didn’t dare bawl him out as he would Phil. He went out to the barn and helped Phil with the milking. While they were milking, Mother set the table and began making breakfast. Then Pa strolled into the kitchen. He stood still and looked at the table, then at the food on the stove. “Hurry up there, Mary,” he said to his wife, “there’s a lot of work to be done today.” Mary said nothing but she thought to herself, “A lot of work to be done. I guess I’d better give the boys a treat for breakfast.” She went down to the cellar and brought up a jar of her best preserves. Th en the boys came in with the pails of fresh milk. Phil began to work the separator. In a few minutes Pa came in and stood with his hands in his pockets, watching Phil turning the han¬ dle round and round. When Phil finished, he took the skim milk out to the pigs while Mary took the cream down to the cellar. After these two tasks were done everyone sat down to breakfast. They ate in si¬ lence for a few minutes. Then Pa said, “Well, boys, we’re go¬ ing to start haying in the south field today. Want to get that hay all in by the end of the week.” The boys made no answer. They’d been told what they were to do; there was nothing to say. A few more minutes of silence; then Jack said, “I saw Bill North in town yesterday. He had on a new suit. His dad gave him it for his birthday.” “That’s like Jim North,” said Pa. “Al¬ ways wasting his money on fool things. Don’t need good clothes on the farm.” “Bill doesn’t stay on the farm all day,” said Phil. “His pa lets him go to town every night. Even lets him take the car most nights.” “Well, don’t think I’m going to let you go chasing around the country in my car,” said Pa. “Probably smash it up. What good would you be on this farm if I let you chase around all night.” The meal was finished in silence. Then Pa followed the boys out to the barn, watched them take out the horses and hitch them up. He went with them to the fields, and after showing them where to begin and telling them to work hard, he returned to the house. By this time Mary had washed the dishes, cleaned the separator, fed the pigs and chickens, and done several other odd jobs. When he entered the kitchen, she was on her knees, scrub¬ bing the rough floor. “Well,” he said slowly, “guess I’ll go into town and see if there’s any mail. Need anythin’ at the store?” “No,” said Mary. She knew he wouldn’t get it anyway. Meanwhile the boys were working in the field. Suddenly Jack looked toward the road and said, “There goes Pa to town again.” “Oh, he’ll be back in time for dinner,” Phil said, and added after a minute—

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hKs hired a man but he was a careless, lazy fellow. He only did half the work Phil could do and so Pa was still forced to work all day. Finally he became desperate. He was paying this man wages and yet working himself. The next day he wrote a let¬ ter to Phil and told him that if he came back he would pay him as much as he was paying his hired man. He also en¬ closed enough money for train fare. So Phil returned home. Pa met him at the station with the car. He was friendly and agreeable and Phil was quite surprised. At supper that night, Pa said, “I was speakin’ to Bill North when I was in town this morning. He was askin’ me if you boys was going to the dance to¬ night. I told him I kinda thought you was.” SECOND PRIZE—THE BIG FROGS By Clarence Blundell, Room 26 Abe Hennessey had been village checker champion for as long as most of the old-timers could remember. While still a young man establishing himself as a grocer, he had shown his supremacy over the other players of Linwood Crossings. As the years passed, his continuous string of victories was seldom broken. Each loss of his was followed by a challenge to a match, which Abe always won. Now, as the fat, good-natured grocer, he was still turning back all comers in his checker encounters. Though they still played him often, the other checker players of the town had despaired of ever beat¬ ing him more than once in twenty games. And so it was that when a certain young man visited Linwood Crossings, the poorer checker players decided to take full advantage of his presence there. The young man had arrived on a very hot day and registered at the local hotel. The hotel-owner, Mr. Brown, himself a very poor checkerist, had, of- course, seen his name. It was he who instigated the plot to take revenge on old Abe for his long reign of terror as checker king of the town. He dis¬ covered that the young man was plan¬ ning to do a week’s fishing and rambling about in the pretty lake country sur¬ rounding the village. That should be plenty of time for Mr. Brown to work out his plan. The day after the visitor’s arrival, Mr. Brown asked him if he would take the leading role in the conspiracy he planned to stage. The young fellow, who appeared to be of a fun-loving disposition, agreed to do it. The next day, Mr. Brown visited the grocery store. After buying a package of tobacco, he opened the conversation. “Been playing any checkers lately, Abe?” asked Mr. Brown, filling his pipe rather slowly. “Not for a week or so, Bill. Why?” “Well, I thought you might like to have a game or two with a young fel¬ low staying at the hotel. He’s finding it sort of hard to put in the evenings.” “I’d be glad to. Is he a good player?” Mr. Brown struck a match and lighted his pipe before answering. “I don’t think he has been playing very long, seeing he’s so young. If you come over this evening, you can use the checker table in the lobby.” “All right. I’ll be over.” Mr. Brown wore a smile of satisfac¬ tion as he left the store. His plans couldn’t be working more smoothly. Next, Mr. Brown made a tour of the town, visiting most of his checker-play¬ ing friends. He received pats on the back, and gleeful laughter followed in his wake. Other people who saw him concluded that he must be telling a very good, new joke. But why he should go to the trouble of telling it to a score of different citizens of the town was beyond them. That evening, when Abe arrived at 20