Natick High School - Sassamon Yearbook (Natick, MA)

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1 THE SASSAMON PAGE THIRTEEN listen on a radio when someone is shaking a furnace? If it doesn't make you grit your teeth, I'll lose my guess. Bob came up with a great air of triumph. What are you getting now? he asked, trying hard to hide a smile. Oh, replied Dick, just as you went down to shake the furnace, the station signed off for three minutes. They've just begun again. Dick tried hard, but he couldn't help laughing. Finally peace was declared for ten min- utes. Dick got WEAG in New York. Say, Dick, you want to turn that dial there a little to the left. Who's doing this, you or I, cried Dick, in an angry voice. ' Hal Ha! Makes a diiference who says that, Dick, doesn't it? Can you keep quiet for a few minutes? Dick inquired, in a still angrier voice. Well, mother, said Mr. Howard, I guess it is about time we went to bed. It's half past ten. You're no kind of radio fan, dad, said Bob, with a covered up yawn. Can't we stay up a while longer? No more tonight, boys. The music may have been good, but the only music I heard was that of you and Dick. Then the boys felt ashamed. They thought over the events of the evening. Not very satisfactory. Without another word the boys went quickly to bed. At eleven o'clock peace once more reigned in the Howard house. I wonder what hap- pened the next evening. People who have a radio can use their imagination! ELEANOR HOLDEN. A FRIEND INDEED One afternoon, in early September, four girls were standing outside the Faybrooke High School, engaged in a lively conversa- tion. It's a mean thing! declared one mem- ber of the group. Mean! this from Jean Preston, I call it outrageous! To think that the town has built as fine a school as this, and with such a splendid gymnasium and now, you might say, not be able to use it because we lack an instructor. Well, said Marion Sayre, philosophical- ly, I suppose that if the town can't afford to pay one, we must go without this year, but maybe next year-. Next year! Jean broke in, scornfully, what good will that do us next year, when we're graduating this year? Besides, it's high time this town did decide whether they can afford one or not. Here it is the sec- ond week of school and the decision was an- nounced only last night. Now, after set- ting our hearts on building up girls' ath- letics in this town, and counting on it ever since they started this new building, our plans go to smash. Well, said another girl, hopefully, maybe we will be allowed to use the gym anyway, even without an instructor. Oh! of course, returned Jean, but we want to get up a snappy basketball team and we need someone to coach us. I won- der--yes, I believe we can do it. Do what? asked the other girls, in chorus. Well, don't you think that by having a drive, as you might say, that we girls could raise sufficient money to hire an instruc- tor ourselves? The girls were enthusiastic over the idea and decided to meet that very evening at Jean's house, to plan the details. When the girls were all assembled at Jean's home, that night, she, being the or- iginator of the idea set forth her plans at once. Now, she said, I have talked it over with the folks and they think we .ought to succeed in this undertaking, so let's pair up and divide the work. Therefore, they planned to cover each street in town. For the first few days of their campaign- ing, the girls were very enthusiastic, but after four days of this, after school hours, their spirits and interest began to decrease. At each house the plan to obtain a physi- cal instructor for the new school had to be explained, and this was done so much that

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PAGE TWELVE THE SASSAMGN It was finally decided that the suggester was to be the spokesman. At last, after a mile of tiresome wading through snow hip deep, and slush almost a foot deep, they reached the summit. The man foremost in the sombre procession ut- tered a muffled exclamlation. ' Somebody must have taken the shack away! he cried. Another member of the sensed the situation and broke into Daffy a run, the others stringing out- behind him. After a short run they reached the place the cabin once stood. where The thaw, after the first snow, had made a soft, slippery slush. A heavy snow had then fallen and the whole mass, with its slippery base started slowly to move down the hill. The great mass gathered moment- um and with characteristic force hurled it- self against the back of the tiny home. Curiously the front wall withstood the shock, but the roof and sides bulged out- ward like paper. The back wall was pressed snugly against the front like a horizontal press. Against the front window, which was still intact, were jammed the lifeless bod- ies of The Widow and her son. As this group of lumbermen stood spell- bound for a moment, a thought passed through the mind of each, just as it passed through mine, whether or not the pair had been killed instantly or whether they had just been pinned there to die slowly in un- merciful agony. Who knows? FRED' KUNZ. THAT RADIO Second Prize Mrs. Howard was calmly sweeping the back piazza. Suddenly she heard a terrible noise. It sounded as if someone was fall- ing down the stairs. Bob and Dick, her two sons, came rushing out to her. Mother, said Dick, it's my tum---. No, it isn't either, yelled Bob. It is too. It is not. Boys, boys, what is the matter now? Mother, said Bob, pleadingly, isn't it my turn to tune in on the radio tonight? Now, mum, you said I could, Dick yelled at the top of his voice. Boys, stop this noise at once or I won't let either of you even touch it, Mrs. How- ard sternly replied. This silenced the two boys, for they knew that their mother always kept her word. Each determined to ask father and see what he said. That night at the supper table Mr. How- ard was very much surprised to fmd the boys so quiet. Usually one or the other had to be asked to soften his voice a little. Every once in a while Bob gave his father a pleading look. Mr. Howard could not un- derstand it, but he was soon to find out. When supper was over and the family were ready to listen to the radio, Bob and Dick made a dash to see who could reach it first. Bob was lucky. Dick said nothing, but quietly sat down. WNAC-The Shepard Stores, Boston. Did you hear that? cried Bob, excit- edly. 'Tisn't very clear. Just turn that dial a little to the right, said Dick, in a know- it-all voice. Say, who's doing' this? asked Bob. Careful, boys, said Mr. Howard, in a quiet voice. WGI-Medford Hillside-Violin Solo. Isn't that woman a dandy player! Dick said, excitedly. I wish I could play like that. Depends upon what you call a fine play- er. Then Bob, with a twist of his thumb lost the station. Of course, there was a great hullabaloo. . Let me try it for a while. l'll get you something worth hearing, said Dick, in that tone that Bob could not stand. O, go ahead. I suppose we'll have some- thing fine now, said Bob, sarcastically. Dick had better luck than Bob and Mrs. Howard praised himl. You see, Dick was her favorite son. Bob could stand it no longer. With a dash he ran out of the room, down into the cellar and started to shake the furnace. Have you happened to

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PAGE FOURTEEN THE SASSAMON Jean declared at the end of a week that she could recite it in her sleep. Not only was the collecting tiresome, but, as a matter of fact, the donations were not as large as the girls had expected or hoped. Nevertheless, when the town had prac- tically been covered, it was found that only S100 of what the girls had estimated as a necessary amount was lacking. Having gone as far as this, we must make up that S100 some way, said Jean. However, there are several places on the outskirts of the town we haven't reached yet and whatever we get there, will help. After that we will have to think up some scheme in order to make up the rest of the money. So the next day found the girls round- ing up the untouched places. Jean, being the acknowledged leader of the crowd, had assigned each girl a par- ticular place to go, leaving to herself a re- mote part of the town with which she was more or less unfamiliar. Jean had gone to only three houses when she was ready to turn back home, because in each the people had been extraordinarily unpleasant, and had expressed their opin- ions in regard to the plan as ridiculous After the first reception, such as this, Jean excused it, making the excuse in her mind that maybe their lack of interest was due to not having children in school and their distance from the center of the town, but after the third, she was fairly discouraged and was ready to give up when she caught sight of a little white house farther up the road. It looked so cheerful and inviting that before she knew it, she was ringing the bell. Almost instantly the door was opened by a vited her in. Seated in plained her tering away Suddenly smiling young woman, who in- a sunny little room, Jean ex- visit and soon she was chat- to a sympathetic listener. she jumped up, realizing that half an hour had passed. The stranger had been so interesting that Jean even forgot the object of her call and was leaving, when the lady said, Won't you accept my dona- tion to the worthy cause? But then, on second thought, I believe I'll send you a check. With this promise ringing in her ears, Jean trudged home happily. On the way she was thinking about the little lady she had just left. Suddenly she remembered that she had not found out her name and then began to get curious, for she recalled the stranger's saying that she moved out to the little white house, because it was such a pleasant and quiet place for her to work. But what sort of work did she do? That question was answered the next day when the check came, which, by the way, easily made up the amount of the fund that was lacking. Jean glanced at the name signed on the check and gasped, Alice Page, the great writer! And to think that I chatted away to her, of all people, like an old friend. When a slip of paper fiuttered to the floor and Jean found it was an invitation from Miss Page to call again very soon, her mother said, Evidently she enjoyed your chattering. ALMA CARTIER. BlLL'S ADVENTURE Bill Adamson was not making very much progress at Columbia University. Bill, as his father called him, was about due for a vacation. His father had been very lenient with him as far as his success in school was con- cerned. It was Bill's Sophomore year, and, as he had been fooling away just about two- thirds of his time, his father was beginning to despair. He, under his father's orders, and like many other college chaps, was forced to leave college. As was expected, Bill was a clerk in dad's office. It was not at all pleasing to Bill, who had been used to kicking around just about as he pleased, and really never knew what work was. A half-year of office work elapsed and Bill claimed he was not going to work there any more.