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Page 65 text:
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Page 64 text:
FRESHMAN HISTORY We, the Freshmen of P. H. S., having emerged from the dark ages of the grammar grades and entered upon our high school career, naturally feel our importance. Year by year we are struggling to reach those sublime heights when we shall be looked up to and respected as we look up to and respect our Seniors. We are gradually awakening to the meaning of the word study, which our noble teachers of the past have so firmly and faithfully attempted to impress upon our minds. The Freshman year is divided into two sections, one of which is pursuing a scientific course, the other a classical course. With the patient struggling of Miss Woodyard we are fast becoming able to talk Latin fluently. Miss Finks has the up- hill work of teaching us to speak correctly and find resting places in our minds for Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar.” Mrs. Cox’s x-y-z’s are much less interesting than cross-word puzzles, al- though 1 have heard they are more enlightening. Miss Thomas is truly a magician, weaving a spell about us so that at the ring- ing of the p eriod bell we are startled to find ourselves in the twentieth instead of the fifth century. Among the high lights of our teachers is Mr. Eckman, who inspires us to reason and study. The mid-term exams were passed with very few failures, and we hope to all join hands and pull the Sophomore grade together. Our Class is thoroughly interested in everything for the betterment of old P. H. S., furnishing a second team in basket- ball and several good football players. We are going at full speed with all four cylinders hitting. We know no law but progress, we know no rule but tun. “All aboard! Let’s go with the Freshman Class of P. H. S., for, if pep means Freshman, we’re it!” As we go the Sophs hold their breath, the Juniors faint, and the Seniors throw up then- hands in holy horror and cry, “The Peppy Freshman.” Nell Bowles, ' 2Q. [ 60 ]
Page 66 text:
AFTER THE BALL WAS OVER “Jane, please find your brother. This is the fourth time he has been late for dinner this week, and this is only the fourth day of this week!” sighed Mrs. Roth. “All love-sick shieks must be dressed, even though they de- lay the family dinner. He has a date with his queen tonight. He makes me sick — in love with a different girl every week and thinks his line would catch every girl in the world.” “Shut up. A lot you know about me or lines,” shrieked Bob in her ears as he slunk into his seat at the table. “Yes, Grandpa!” This type of conversation continued through the meal and afterwards Jane and Bob went up stairs to finish his dressing. “Sis, will you please come and hook me up? This darn suit doesn’t fit at all.” “I guess your fond Margaret hasn’t seen you in that rig. It’s a shout!” “Aw, quit laughing. I know it’s awful, but we’ll have masques.” Jane, as a younger sister to this decidedly collegiate youth, suffered much from his superiority. She was a mere child to him and he regarded her youthful friends disdainfully, for he thought himself quite old and sophisticated. Jane decided she knew lots more than Bob thought. On overhearing a tele- phone conversation Jane had learned that Margaret was going as a ballet dancer with Bob as her Pierrot escort to the mas- querade, and that Bob was to call for Margaret at a quarter to nine. After looking appraisingly at himself for about a dozen times, Bob started to the garage, feeling confident that a girl like Margaret would surely fall for a line like his. But Jane, in the afternoon, had untwisted a wire that would delay Bob and allow her a few minutes. As soon as she heard Bob leave the room she ran to her closet, dragged out a gorgeous silver costume and hustled into it. Hiding it under a long black cape, she ran down the walk to the tune of the unpleasant things Bob was saying to the old bus. Arriving at Margaret’s yard she waited a minute until she heard a mysterious whistle from a tree a little distance from her. She ran over to it and a Pierrot [ 62 ]
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