Kingswood School Cranbrook - Woodwinds Yearbook (Bloomfield Hills, MI)

Page 41 text:

UNDERCLASSMEN

Page 40 text:

THE MESSENGER Judy Allen? Sure I know her! Practically brought her up after her mother died. That was, lemme see, ten years ago, Judy was ten—she’ll be twenty this year. A right pretty gal, and lots a’ spunk, too. Why, I remember when Judy was seventeen—tall, and long-limbed like a colt, with somethin’ clean about her. You know the way girls are at seventeen—long hair the color of taffy, that used to sparkle like gold in the sun, and wide blue eyes. Used to 'mind me of the bay waters in the summer—just like her mother, Peg Allen, used to look. Well, long about August that year, Judy was a goner for Chuck Pierce, one of the nicest kids I’ve ever knowed, spite of what the old tabbies in town used to say about his wild livin’. But I always maintain, a youngster’s a better one to sow his wild oats than an old man like me. So Judy really was gone on him. And him on her too, far as I could see. Lord, every day you’d see ’em together, sailin’, playin’ tennis, or just together. And nights they’d ride in Chuck’s car or walk, ’specially when it rained—Judy always liked walkin’ in the rain. Yep, they was always together--a great pair of kids. Funny thing, though, with all his livin' outdoors, Chuck weren’t never very strong. Oh, I’ll warrant he looked tough as a bull with them shoulders and that tan. But he’d always be tired 'way before Judy, and had a funny look around his mouth sometimes, little white lines. Well, about two years ago, that was in thirty-eight, I think—anyway it was gossip around town that Chuck Pierce was goin’ to die of T. B. if he didn’t go to a sanatorium right away for a good long cure. ’Course that meant he wouldn’t be able to support a wife for three years at least, and him and Judy had been dead set on gettin’ married that spring. Well, it pretty near broke Judy’s heart to think of sayin’ goodbye to Chuck, but she couldn't do nodiin’ else. Too bad it had to happen then - • - But, say, mister, I been runnin’ on like an old fool, never askin’ what you wanted. Where does Judy Allen live now? Well, up there on King’s Landing Hill, only she ain’t Judy Allen no more. Nope—she married Chuck just ’fore he left for the sanitorium, two years ago, come this August, and he’s due back in a year. She’s been workin’ like a trooper to have everythin' ready for him, spick and span. I always said Judy had spunk. Why, beg pardon, sir, I didn’t think to tell you—thanks fer remindin’ me of my manners. I’m Mr. Allen. What’s your name? Mr. Fiske from Pinewood Sanitorium? You what? Looking for Judy? What! Chuck won’t ever come back? . . . Yes, sir . . . I’ll tell her myself—she might take it better that way. Harriett Cress C}6]

Page 42 text:

GONE No ONE knew who had taken Miss Augur’s dessert. It had been a fleecy lemon pie, just lightly browned on top when it appeared from the kitchen and was placed in front of her. Then it disappeared. Of course it had no name tape, and thus was too difficult to find. Shortly after this a student's toy cat with electric eyes was among the missing. Once more there was no name tape, so what could be done about it? Then there was a sudden shortage of silver in the dining room, and every single thumb tack from the Bulletin Board disappeared, two or three of which were found in very odd places. That was the end, the “straw that broke the camel’s back.” Our despondent faculty congealed into one of diose mysterious faculty meetings. “Members of the faculty,” said the chairman, “you all know too well what we are here to discuss this evening.” They wisely nodded their heads and looked even more solemn. “Yes, indeed, we know.” I have asked Senator Bret Rutler, who is visiting us from Alabama, to say a few words. Senator?” “Deah members of the Faculty,” said he in a soft Southern voice. “A1» realize how this pre- sent catastrophe has affected you all, and ah do wish ah could do something to aid you and thank you all for the pleasure of visiting your beautiful school. Everybody has been so kind co me, and your girls do nave such takin’ ways. Ah do think ...” He was interrupted by a knock. Come in.” “Madam Chairman,” gasped a boarder, much overcome by the solemnity of the room, “some- thing awful has happened in the art room.” “Yes, what is it?” “The wall is gone!” “Wall gone? Such nonsense. Come, what do you mean? First diere were just a few bricks missing from the corner, and when I came back from dinner, the whole wall was gone!” The faculty solemnly marched over to verify the statement. Not only one wall, but all four were missing. “Yes, indeed,” said the faculty, “we knew it was serious. They filed back to their silent room to study the mystery. They were all ouiet and thoughtful except Senator Rutler who seemed to have misplaced his watch. A knock was heard at the door. “Come in.” Madam Chairman,” said the same over-awed-boarder, “something awful has happened in the dorm!” “Yes, what is it?” “The walls are gone! “The walls gone? Such nonsense. Come. We shall see.” “Yes, indeed, said the faculty wisely nodding their heads and looking even more solemn, “we knew it was serious.” They marched to the dormitory and found it was no more. Precisely at eight the next morning, Kingswood's first sleepy day student drove in the gate, and as she was indulging in a last sleepy yawn her half closed eyes flew open with surprise; she clutched the cold steering wheel and closed her mouth with a snap. There lay Kingswood’s beautiful grounds . . . but no school! Every single brick and stone was gone, with just one exception. The walls of the faculty room gleamed triumphantly through the dawn, and around the tables sat the faculty. Yes, indeed, said the faculty, wisely nodding their heads, and looking even more solemn, We knew it was serious.” Ada Ward