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Northeastern University DAY DIVISION SCHOOL of ENGINEERING In co-operation with engineering firms, offers curricula leading to the Bachelor of Science degree in the following branches of engineer- ing: Civil Engineering Mechanical Engineering Electrical Engineering Chemical Engineering Industrial Engineering SCHOOL of BUSINESS ADMINISTRATION Co-operating with business firms, offers courses leading to the degree of Bachelor of Science in the fol- lowing fields of business: Accounting Banking and Finance Business Management The Co-operative Plan of training combines theory with two years of practice. It enables the student to earn his tuition and a part of his other school expenses. Graduates of Quincy High School may be admitted without examina- tions if grades are satisfactory to the Department of Admissions. EVENING DIVISION (COEDUCATIONAL) An effective university education is available in the evening for high school graduates who for financial or other reasons cannot enter da l colleges but must go to work following graduation: School of Business Grants B. B.A. and M.B.A. degrees. Specializes in accounting, and business administration Only 24.9% of graduates held executive po- sitions on entering school; 71.9% now in major executive positions. Graduates outstandingly successful in C. P. A. examinations. Actual business problem' the basis of in- struction. School of Law Four-year course. LL.B. degree. Prepares for bar examinations and practice. Case method of instruction similar to that in best day law schools. A school of high standards adapted to the needs of employed men and women. Alumni outstandingly successful as lawyers, judges, business executives. Graduates of Quinctf High School admitted without examinations Catalogs or further information sent upon request NORTHEASTERN UNIVERSITY BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS Some of the Ads in this issue are student written. See if you can find them INCE this magazine appears in April, we had to choose be- tween showers and fools. We selected the latter as suiting us better. Therefore with the deepest affection and esteem we dedicate this, the token of our kinship, to--- Mr. Thomas D---------. Foolery. Published Q u arterly by Pupils of the Quincy High School We Golden Rod Member of C. S. P. A. APR. 1932 Volume XLIV No.3 QUINCY Massachusetts PRICE—TWENTY-FIVE CENTS STAFF Editor-in-chief............. Assistant Editor............ Literary Editor............. Joke Editor................. Athletic Editor............. Exchange Editor............. Alumni Editor............... News Editor................. Art Editor.................. J ’32 ...............Arthur Peel .........Ragnhild Lindberg .................Ruth Darr .....Cornelius VanTwuyver .............John Marshall .............Karin Johnson ............Henriette Marr .............Robert Jordan ...............Louise Rood Business Manager.......................Lynwood Littlefield Advertising iManager.............................Constance Blinn CLASS REPRESENTATIVES Sylvia Koose...F ’33 Cabi Comoletti..F ’34 William Coates.J '33 Jack Sharp..........J ’34 FACULTY ADVISORS Ethel C. Crockett Vera Call Muriel J. Goudey Catherine I. Walsh Leslie C. Millard Entered as second class matter, June 26, 1928, at the post office at Boston, Mass., under the Act of March 3, 1879. n LITERARY ==,:::::s:: ::::: . OON UO SlPPLC nj 8 THE GOLDEN-ROD ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS Due to the limited space we are unable to answer all letters received but others will be published when space permits. D. Arne—For mending the air which was rent with shouts on your husband’s return, use either a sailor’s yarn or the thread of a discourse, according to the size of the rent. 0. K. K.—We know of nothing that will mend jokes cracked in after- dinner speech. Usually they are so old as to be beyond repair. Dolly—We referred your letter to the Motherhood Dept., who said that a monkey-wrench would be the most suitable Christmas gift for your pet ape. Beauty—Your question regarding the complexion has been re- ferred to the department “Cheek-to-cheek Talks,” which you will find on page of this number. Raindon—We are sorry on our own account as well as yours that we know of no place where they re- cover borrowed umbrellas. Amateur Actress—For the scene where you are eating fruit when the fire breaks out, you should wear burnt orange with watered ribbons and garden hose. An alarm clock should be among the stage furnishings. “Brownie” Whitehead. 31list Have Been a Penthouse “Where is your “House of the Sev- en Gables?” “O-mi-gosh! I left it in my home room.” Then there is the Sotchman who stayed at home and let his mind wander. My analyze over the ocean, My analyze over the sea, Oh, who will go over the ocean And bring back my anatomy. —Ex. No 3Vonder It Sounded Hollow Professor: “What is a vacuum?” Stude: “I have it in my head, but I can’t think of it just now.” Did you know that the corridor in the vicinity of room 213 is referred to by the traffic squad as “Thomp- son’s Corner?” Mr. Lyon (discussing solutions in cliem.): “Never mind ‘supersaturat- ed’ now; let’s get ‘saturated.’” Voice: “Do you mean soused?” Do you like codfish balls? I don’t know; I never attended one. —Ex. Pete: “Mister, will you please hold my books?” Principal: “Son, do you know that I am the principal of this school?” Pete: “Oh, that is all right; you look honest enough.” Senior (to soph, scratching his head): “Do you still get a kick play- ing with wooden blocks? Soph.: “Why, of course not.” Senior: “Then leave your head alone.” Buried here Lies Eddie Lakes— Going sixty Forgot the brakes. Herbert Morris Miss Tuthill: “What is the mean- ing of ‘Posthumus’ on a musical composition?” Bright student: “Written after death.” When all the beasts are gathered in, And Peter shuts the gate, At heaven’s door, as here in school Will seniors come in late? “Now we will hear a little silence.” THE GOLDEN-ROD 9 Perhaps He’s Right Miss Crocket (talking of the prize the G. R. won in the national con- test) : “Besides being classified as to the type of school, the magazines were also classified as to the number of inhabitants.” Voice from rear: “You don’t mean inhabitants, you mean inmates.” John M.: “I can’t run the hundred today, coach.” Mr. Wilson: “Dash it!” The Hall Is a Good Example What are you taking up in school? Everything that isn’t nailed down.” A school teacher (helping a little soph to fasten his coat): “Did your mother hook this coat for you?” “No,” was the indignant reply. “She bought it.” “Marblehead” Paul (in English class): “Hey, Miss Raycroft, you know that last sentence we just corrected? Well, I think . . .” Frank (interrupting): “With what?” EPITAPH ON A SOPH’S GRAVE Here lies a poor and lowly soph, To him we send our praises: In English, he amused the class By using perfect phrases. In French you should have heard him. He couldn't parlez-vous,” He once (?) was bounced from study hall Because he liked to chew. He never did his homework, We’re certain that he knew The meaning of that little phrase Report at half past two.” Tom Collins Overheard in Squantum’s Own Toon- erville Trolley “Better keep your head inside the window, sonny.” Wet: “I’ll keep it out if I want to.” “Certainly,” warned the conductor, “but if you damage any of the elec- tric light poles, you’ll pay for it.” i ! til! I Why Not Write More Legibly? Teacher: “Smith, this is the third time I have seen you looking on your neighbors paper.” Smith: “Yes, sir; he writes so badly.” Teacher: “What does ‘sic transit’ mean?” Student: “An ambulance.” 10 THE GOLDEN-ROD Look what John W. Wilson orig- inated. Either The Editor pumped him too hard or he is in love. “Battleship Kate”: “You Done Me Dirt,” “You Rascal You,” “You Told Me That You Loved Me,” “But You Told Him, Too.” “You Used to Be” “My Every- thing,” but now “What Do I Care for You,” because “When I’m With You I’m Lonesome.” “When We Are Alone” “Together” “I Get Those Weary Blues.” “I Suppose I Was Mistaken in You.” You had “Me” “Kneeling at Your Altar of Love,” but now “It’s Over” “You Made Me Cry.” “Was That the Human Thing to Do?” Yours was a “Come Easy, Go Easy Love.” “Remember” “Life Is Just a Bowl of Cherries,” “Even Though” “The Thrill Is Gone.” “Disappointed,” “Little Joe.” The answer to this amazing piece of work will be published in the next issue. Watch for it. Mr. Bridges to Francis Lindberg: “Be quiet or there will be another Lindberg baby missing.” Why doesn’t the Discus Thrower heave the darned thing and get it over with? He: “Do you believe in prepared- ness?” She: “I wouldn’t mind being in arms.” There was a young fellow named Reed Who drove a big car at top speed. But a car came one day Prom the opposite way— Now the angels will have to take heed. Robert Jordan Heard at the Senior Reception “What a surprise to see you in a tux. Did you rent it?” “No, but every time I stooped over T thought it would.” The caterpillar crawls around on his stomach, but the bedbug ain’t so particular. The following are some hitherto unknown facts on the World War: Germany was given fifteen days to excavate all the land on the left bank of the Rhine. The airplane enabled the Germans to boom Tours. There was a boy named Pete Who took great care of his feet. But when at a dance He was taking a chance And they bounced him out in the street. It was not an act of chivalry Xor yet the fear of scorn; He offered her his street car seat To keep her off his corn. D. McLaughlin Here is proof that even the teach- ers make mistakes. Recently Miss Goudey wrote on a note “Bully hoo,” meaning of course------------. We think it is about time that somebody answered the appeal of the Indian. Walkovers make good shoes; ba- nanas good slippers. PICKEREL FISHING Brownie Whitehead I wade along the pond's calm shore. And cast into its mystic depth. With all its unforgotten lore. And wait with baited hook and breath. I play just where the pickerel lurk My pole with hook and line so free: Splash! A tug! I give one jerk, And lo. my fish is in a tree. The study of chlorine gas is strangulating, as well as interesting. Ask any chem student. Teacher: “Where is Cologne?” Pupil: “In the bottle.” 12 THE GOLDEN-ROD THROUGH A SUB’S EYES The Short, Short Story By ED. GOODMAN “Oh, I always knew that you had to have a drag to get on one of Coach Jones’s teams, anyway. Why did I ever come out for basketball? Look at Dick Smith floundering around out there in my position. Why doesn’t the coach send me in? What’s that, Coach, you want me? Oh. you want me to get the first aid kit in the locker room? Oh, no, Coach. I wasn’t swearing under my breath.” (Intermission is over and the second half begins.) “Gee, it seems as though the coach is looking at me. What's that, Coach, you want me? Oh, you want to see Robinson in back of me? Look at that, he’s sending in that third string substitute. I always thought that the coach was cockeyed and now I know it. I know 1 shouldn’t be thinking this, but I wish some- body would get hurt out there so that I could strut my stuff. Wouldn’t Pa be proud of me if I should come home with a great big sweater with a red “A” emblazoned on the front. And won’t Mary Smith be proud of her big athlete? Is that Ma and Pa up in the stands or are my eyes de- ceiving me? Is that the Coach look- ing at me? It is. Go in in place of Smith? Okay. Gee, I always knew that the Coach was a good fellow. He certainly knows his stuff.” And substitute Jimmy Johnson went out on the floor and gave his all for good old Abadaba while half a score of substitutes watched, with dreams of their winning games for the old alma mater written all over their faces, meanwhile cursing the Coach, team, and everybody in gen- eral. And ’twill ever be thus. Continued from Page 1« truchio had not seen before. He promptly declared it looked disas- trous on her and commanded her to take it off. Just as promptly Kath- erina took off the hat. The guests, though impressed, laughed and joked at Katherina’s submissiveness. “My dear, it’s silly,” said Marie, lighting a cigaret in a foot-long holder, “to let your husband have such complete control over every- thing you say or do.” “It’s a wife’s duty,” said Katherina coolly, “to love, honor and obey her husband.” Petruchio smiled to himself and set down another score for himself. Riding home through the night dusk Petruchio and Katherina were silent. The round, yellow moon hung above them in the wide heaven. Presently Petruchio said, “How bright the moon is.” “Yes,” said Katherina. Petruchio smiled down at her. “You’re sure it’s the moon?” “Oh, yes,” said Katherine, smiling back at him. Petruchio found it necessary at that moment to stop the car and put his arm around his wife. “Now,” he said, “protest if you dare.” “I don’t,” replied Katherina, so consequently was promptly kissed. TWILIGHT Just to see birds homeward flying. And to hear the forest sighing Because the sunset's dying. When it’s twilight. Just to hear the wavelets babble On each tiny stone and pebble; Sound like a bluebird’s treble Just at twilight. Just when stars begin to quiver, And a rising moon gleams on the river. Would that it would last forever But it’s only twilight. Frances L. Carlson. LIZZIE’S GANG I just love my Aunt Liz-zie, When she comes with her familie: Cousin Clarence—ain’t he cute Tearing up my school note book? Then there’s Sis—into my room She strolls, and everything goes boom! Powders, perfumes—what a mess! But this is just the life. I guess. Uncle Daniel—he’s a peach! Always trying to make a speech. None of them have manners, gee! What’s that in a familie? Don’t this show’ just what a pang Is left when Liz goes with her gang? Dee Burr. TAMING OF THE SHREW ( With apologies to Bill Shakespeare') By Dorothy Hunt TAXI stopped before the ex- clusive men’s Club in the midst of the hustle and bus- tle of Manhattan. A young man, slender and well-dressed, jumped out and paid his fare with a flourish. Entering the lighted por- tals of the Club, he showed his card to the doorman, then stood tucking ing it back into his wallet and look- ing about him. There was a group of young men around him the next moment. They noisily greeted him with fond back- slaps and warm hand-clasps. “Petruchio, old pal, how’s tricks!” “What’s the idea of stayin’ away so long, kid?” “Goa have mercy on us, he’s rais- ing a mustache!” Petruchio twirled the budding mustache above his upper lip with apparent vanity. “Say, what’s been doin’?” They entered the lounge, talking together and drawing out cigarets. Seated in large, comfortable easy chairs they related to Petruchio the recent happenings in New York City. “And I?” Lucentio mourned sadly, “have had my wedding postponed again.” Petruchio laughed at the woeful expression of the young man. “Why?” he asked. “It’s that darn sister of hers! The old man won’t let Bianca marry me until Katherina is hitched up. And before that dame snares a guy, Ni- agara Falls will be running up-hill!” Amid laughter the others agreed. “And why,” asked Petruchio, “is the young lady so distasteful to you?” “Why!” cried Lucentio, “just wait ’til you meet her! Of all the disa- greeable, conceited, insufferable . . .” “Wait,” Petruchio laughed, “could you manage an introduction for me? I’m half in love with the girl al- ready.” Lucentio looked worried. “I could, but I think too much of you, Petru- chio. If you didn’t get a kick in the teeth during the first five minutes, you’d get your eyes scratched out before the evening was over.” “Playful lass,” decided Petruchio. “Who’s her father?” “Old Baptista, and he’s bound to make Bianca and me wait ’til that devil of a Katherina is married.” “I think,” said Petruchio, crushing out his butt, “that I will pay a visit to Miss Katherina very shortly.” “For cryin’ in a cup, Petruchio, there’s plenty of good-natured girls around!” “Granted,” said Petruchio, “but variety is the spice of life.” Baptista and Petruchio waited in the drawing-room for the appear- ance of Katherina. Baptista was ill at ease and frequently wiped his brow with a large white handker- chief. Petruchio sat coolly looking through the latest “Ballyhoo.” “I—er— I—” Baptista pulled at his collar, “I feel I must—er—warn you. young man.” “Yes?” Petruchio looked up cas- ually. “Er—yes. Katherina is a rather unruly girl, that is—” “Oh, have no fear. I’ve known her a long time and now I find I’m really quite fond of her,” lied Petruchio earnestly. “I’m afraid you don’t give her credit for her charm and gra- ciousness.” Baptista looked bewildered and unhappy, and truly baffled. He con- tinued to pace up and down and ponder uneasily. Suddenly a young man rushed into the room, holding his hand to his head and making queer sounds in his throat. “I’m through, I’m through!” he cried. “This is the end! I can stand no more! I am a gentleman, sir. 14 THE GOLDEN-ROD and a gentleman does not accept such treatment without comment of some sort!” “Most decidedly not,” agreed Pe- truchio firmly. “What’s the matter?” The young man eyed him scorn- fully and turned to Baptista. “Your daughter broke the music-rack over my head, sir. That makes the sev- enth this week. I’m through!” He turned haughtily toward the door and left. Baptista sighed wearily and mopped his brow again. “Katherina will have her little jokes,” laughed Pe- truchio. At that moment a slim young woman with black curls and flashing blue eyes en- tered the room. “Hello, Kate,” Pe- truchio grinned. “My name,” said the girl frigidly, “is Katherina!” “Not to me it isn’t,” declared Petruchio; “I like Kate better.” “How dare you be so familiar, you young fool! ” cried Kather- ina. “Leave at once!” “Nothing d o i n ” said Petruchio, light- ing a cigaret; “I’ve only just got here.” Baptista was almost biting his finger nails with worriment. “And besides,” continued the young man, “I’ve got something to tell you.” “I’ll listen to nothing you have to say,” stated Katherine icily. “Sure, you will, Kate. Listen, we’re going to be married next Sun- day; isn’t that swell news?” “You,” said Katherina with con- viction, “are insane.” “Oh no,” objected Petruchio. “Quite sane. Your father has given his consent,” Baptista nodded miser- ably, “so I’ll be seeing you. Be good ’til Sunday.” He donned his hat and coat and left, sending a gay grin over his shoulder to the fiery-eyed Katherina. Sunday at the home of Baptista and his daughters brought a gala occasion indeed. In the gravel drive- way stood many low, gleaming cars and on the wide, cool veranda were grouped lovely young women and trim young men, laughing and chat- tering. Katherina and her father sat in the parlor. Baptista paced and Kath- erina sulked. She looked beautiful in her white gown, but her brows were pulled together and her lips were tight. One silver-shod foot tapped the floor furiously. Petruchio was an hour late and Katherina thought she would burst with pent-up anger and hu- miliation. The radio hummed with the sound of Arthur Jar- ret’s sentimental theme song and Kath- erina jumped up and stamped over to shut it off. When Petruchio ar- rived it was with great noise and color. He stopped before the veranda in a very an- cient contraption one might have called an automobile in 1900. It was unpainted and exceedingly rusty. The mud-guards were dented and the left rear one was absent. Petruchio was dressed in dirty tennis pants and a torn orange sweater much too large for him. He hadn’t shaved all week. Jumping over the side of the car he ran up the steps of the ve- randa, calling greetings to his friends. Consequently, there was much commotion. The friends screeched and applauded and laughed. Every- one liked the effect and raved about Petruchio’s originality. That is, all except Katherina. She stood like stone with her hands clenched by her sides. THE GOLDEN-ROD 15 “You can’t do this!” she cried. “It’s impossible for you to appear like this! You’re insane!” “You look swell, Kate,” declared Petruchio with a grin. “I won’t permit this!'” stormed his bride-to-be. “Say, babe, you’re marrying me, not my clothes!” “I’ll marry neither!” cried Kath- erina. But the ceremony went on. Pe- truchio spilled cocktails at every op- portunity. Katherina wept and the guests enjoyed themselves. Petru- chio would not stay for the lavish wedding supper which Baptista had prepared. He took his bride away in his old, rusty rattletrap and they jounced over all the worst roads leading to his home. At the top of a high, rough hill the car suddenly wheezed to a stop and rolled back down to the bottom. Petruchio swore and shouted and Katherina sat huddled on the hard seat as he tinkered beneath the hood, crying with misery and hunger. “You beast! You contemptible pig! Take me home!” “How dare you talk to me like that!” “Then shut up!” Katherina wept in vain. They arrived at Petruchio’s home, a rambilng old country house set back among elms and wide lawns. Upon entering the hallway Kather- ina went straight to the telephone table. “What are you going to do?” asked her husband? “I’m going to call my father and tell him what a fool he is! He forced me into this marriage and now he’s going to get me out of it. You and he are the two most contemptible wretches I ever met!” Petruchio leaned carelessly against the doorway and regarded his bride with a grin. “The telephone’s dis- connected and anyway it’s time for supper. Come on.” “I’ll not go a step farther with you!” declared Katherina hotly. Whereupon Petruchio picked her up bodily and took her into the din- ing-room, where he sat her down none too gently before the table. “What, no caviar!” stormed Kath- erina. Petruchio looked exceedingly sur- prised and echoed, “No caviar? And look, Kate, the lousy grub they ex- pect us to eat! I shall fire all the servants!” He stood up with dignity and swept all the dishes into his arms. Katherina looked on fear- fully. “The rest is all right, Petruchio, don’t take it back.” “I’m sure,” said Petruchio gallant- ly, “that my bride is worthy of a better supper than this upon her wedding night.” He marched away with the dishes and Katherina, weak with hunger, burst into tears again. In their bedroom Katherina sank down into a deep armchair and closed her tired eyes. Petruchio sat down on the bed to take off his shoes. As soon as he touched the bed, he sprang up and swore loudly. Katherine opened her eyes and looked at him apprehensively. “And how is anyone expected to sleep on this mess of rocks!” cried Petruchio. He ripped off the bed covers and yanked at the mattress. “Those servants, I shall fire them all!” “Petruchio, stop it!” cried Kath- erina. “But you can’t sleep on a bed like this, Kate, it would kill you!” He continued to pull off the mattress and sheets. Katherina was almost at the hair- tearing point. She sat up all night lamenting her fate, while Petruchio paced the floor and cursed the serv- ants. The next morning Petruchio, sun- ny-faced and cheery, brought his wife breakfast. Katherina bright- ened a little at the sight of the sav- ory food, but it was all snatched 16 THE GOLDEN-ROD away from her before she could fin- ish. Petruchio had invited scores of dressmakers and milliners to the house from whose stocks his wife was to choose clothes. Katherina was pleased by the stunning array of dresses and stood before the mir- ror trying them on. Petruchio eyed a trim, black hat with dissatisfaction. “Take it off, Kate; it looks lousey!” Katherina said, “I think I’ll buy it, I like it.” “It’s worse than a washerwoman’s derby. Take it off.” “I certainly will not!” Petruchio approached her and snatched it from her head, mussing her black curls and starting the tears again. Then he dismissed all the tradesmen without a single pur- chase. “Brute, I hate you!” “Keep still, you give me the head- ache.” “You can’t talk to me like that!” “Oh, no?” “You’re a wretch!” “Your language is sadly unrefined. Kate.” “I never want to see you again! You worm, I hate you!” Petruchio gave her a smart cuff on the back of the head and left her raging furiously. They made a journey the next day to Katherina’s home to obtain her wardrobe of clothes. This time they rode in Petruchio’s low-slung roadster of gleaming black and sil- ver and Petruchio wore white flan- nels and a dark blue jacket. Kath- erina was so thankful that she could have wept again. It was a bright afternoon and the wind was warm and sweet. Petruchio said, “How bright the moon is.” “What do you mean, the moon!” scoffed Katherina, “that’s the sun!” “I said it was the moon!” cried Petruchio. “And what I say goes!” Katherina set her lips and was silent. “And furthermore,” continued Pe- truchio, “unless you agree it’s the moon we turn back.” “All right,” sighed Katherina wearily, “it’s the moon.” At Baptista's they found a double wedding in process. Bianca and Lu- centio with two friends were taking the vows. Petruchio’s men friends hinted within their joking conversation that they sympathized with him for having obtained such an ill-tempered girl for a wife. “Gee, Marie is so easy to get along with,” said one. “We never argue.” “Boy, you should taste the lemon pies my dame slings across the sup- per table!” boasted another. “Well, boys,” grinned Petruchio, “1 11 bet five bucks that Katherina is more obedient than any of your worthy spouses.” “I could use five bucks,” said Lu- centio, digging into his pocket. Laughingly the others took up the bet. They sent a servant to Bianca first, telling her that her husband wanted her at once. The servant, looking pleasantly bored, returned saying that the young lady was too busy to come. The other young wives were also “busy.” “Now,” said Petruchio, “watch Katherina sprint.” Katherina appeared almost imme- diately and asked what her husband wished. “What,” asked Petruchio, “are the other girls doing?” “We were only sitting in my room talking,” answered Katherina. Several young men looked sheep- ish and Petruchio was twenty dol- lars richer. The evening wore on filled with merriment, noise and music. Mel- ody was hot and sweet and laughter was light. Petruchio stood on top of the piano and executed a tap dance, and to her own surprise Ka- therina found herself applauding with the others. When the evening ended Kather- ine appeared wearing a hat that Pe- (Continued on Pape ii) REPAIR WORK By Wi-nona Mutch QANCY, stop acting like a child! Has it come to the point where I must com- mand you to go into that ballroom?” Nancy, eyes blazing, faced her mother defiantly. “I can’t help it! I refuse to force myself on people! Can’t you under- stand that I’m not—! “No, I can’t! Stop balking! A girl as lovely as you should be as unconscious with these people as you are with working men. You could be, if you wished!” “Mother, don’t you suppose I want to be popular? Why should I come to a ball like this just to sit, and feel silly all evening? I won't go in there! You forced me here, but you cant (jet me past this threshold! Just be- cause Ronald Barnaby—!” “Keep quiet! Here he comes!” Clutching Nancy’s reluctant arm and radiating cordiality, she stepped forward to greet the young man who was passing. Smiling sweetly, one fluttering hand on Nancy’s arm, the other pat- ting her hair, she asked: “Nancy, you remember Ronald, do you not? I have the cunningest snap- shot of you as babies playing to- gether on our lawn.” Then, through the haze of her em- barrassment jabbing her program card against the wall, dropping it. twisting her lacy handkerchief. Nancy saw a tall man with shiny dark hair and delicate looking hands, certainly not the hands of the explorer he was supposed to be, and heard herself saying in a choked voice, “Of course, how do you do?” Excusing himself, Ronald soon left them with a request for a dance later on. Then, the partners. Old men. fat men, bald men, uncles, fathers, a scattering of dutiful young men. And through it all, her mother’s watchful, sharp eyes and the acute consciousness of that sleek, black, self-confident head continually sur- rounded by perfect marcels and fluffy dresses. Then, suddenly, a deep voice. “You promised me a dance, Nancy. May I have this one?” “Certainly;” she gasped. It was painfully long. Vainly she searched her mind for something to say. She felt her mother’s eyes bor- ing into her back constantly. The music seemed as if it would go on forever. Then, it ended. A failure! A bleak, bare failure, as usual. Oh, to get away from it all: some place away from mocking explorers with perfectly groomed ham's and sleek black hair! Then she saw her mother sweep- ing rapidly, eagerlv, upon her. “Well—?” Nancy cringed. “Of course, lie’s taking you home? That was the last dance.” “Oh, mother, keep still! Why can’t you leave me alone for a change?” Her mother stiffened perceptibly. “Very well! Let’s go home.” Silence. Dense silence all the way home. A curt good night at her bed- room door, and at last—alone! She tossed and turned. Finally she dozed only to be wakened by nightmares of eyes staring at her out of the darkness. Mocking, charming eyes. She awoke again. Why must she be thrown at men who didn’t want her? Men she didn’t want. The night dragged on. Then, at last dawn! She heard the clock strike seven and her mother stir heavily. “I can’t, can’t see her this morn- ing.” she choked, and hurriedly dressed and went out unseen. Her car was still in the driveway. She climbed in and drove at a breakneck speed down the road. 18 THE GOLDEN-ROD At a stoplight she skidded halfway across the road and stopped. The unsuccessful stop was like fresh fuel to her dying temper, but the car refused to start, and she climbed out and went into a garage around the corner. An exceedingly greasy young man stuck his head out from under a car. “My car’s around the corner. Go get it. I’ll be in tomorrow,” Nancy snapped. Arriving at home, she squared her shoulders and prepared herself for a scene. Boldly opening the door she walked into the living room. “Nancy, you’re here at last! Oh, I have the most wonderful news! Ronald is coming for tea tomorrow! I called him this morning.” “Really? What fun! He’s rather a snob, don’t you think?” “Nancy, can’t you choose a more delicate word? ‘Snob’ sounds so vulgar!” “Sorry, mother, ‘snob’ fits him so much better than any other word. I’ll be down for lunch as soon as I change.” The next day found Nancy again in the garage perched on the box. Jerry Sear, as the garage man’s name proved to be, was sharing his sandwiches with her. “You stripped the gears on that car. Beside it hasn’t been used right. You can’t treat a car like that!” “Oh. can’t I? It’s my car!” she grinned. “Well, it can’t be finished today. It’ll take quite a while to fix that car up right.” “Are you trying to get rid of me, by any chance?” “If I was I’d tell you to go. What do you do in the evenings?” “Nothing.” “Want to go to the movies Friday night?” “I’d love to. Oh, gee! I forgot. Mother’s having company and I must hurry home. I suppose I’ve got to go.” Rushing into the living room, she was surprised to see Ronald talking to her mother. “Oh! Hello there! Aren’t you early?” Horror of horrors! She had for- gotten to be embarrassed. Clenching her teeth she muttered, “Keep it up, Nancy! You’ll learn yet!” She giggled as she slipped her aft- ernoon dress over her head. She had at least surprised him out of his snobbishness for one minute! The next three weeks passed quickly. Movies with Jerry. Long days at the garage with Jerry. Lunches with Jerry. Dances and teas with Ron- nie, invitations received and accept- ed by Mrs.- Leton. Then, matters got worse. Ronnie was always under- foot. One day in the garage Jerry came over suddenly and sat down beside her. “Nancy, I’ve got a confession to make. You see, it’s this way—” Fifteen minutes later, Nancy, seated on her box, eyes sparkling, raptly listening, was startled by a fa- miliar figure in the doorway. Slowly raising her eyes she met the shocked, incredible gaze of Ronnie! Regaining his usual unshakable poise he spoke coldly to Jerry. “Will you please overhaul my car? I'll be in for it later.” Nancy rose. “Ronnie, will you tell mother something for me?” “Most assuredly,” Ronnie said haughtily. “I’ve got some news that will tickle her to death. Jerry and I are going to be married. Tell her not to worry, that Jerry’s father is Charles Sear, the automobile manufacturer. Jerry’s just been trying to learn something about automobiles, so he’d be able to take over his father’s business.” EDITOR’S NOTE: “Word Signs and Love Songs” published in the last issue of the “Golden Rod” was written by Mary Connors. Through an oversight on the part of the staff, the name of the author was omitted. THE PLUG-UGLY’S PROGRESS Bringing the Pilgrim up to Date With many apologies to John Banyan. By Joe Bunion S I roamed the streets and alleys of the Great City, I came to a certain place where was a Den the Cops hadn’t closed. I entered there, and called for the Pipe and the Drug. And I laid me down, and dreamed a Dream. I saw in my Dream a Man, and the Man was sitting in the seat of a Truck. The man was not driving, but looked at a paper in his hand, and as he looked he bewailed loudly. And as he was thus lamenting, a man called Devilish came up, and asked him why he cried. Said the man. I have here an or- der to deliver this Load of Bootleg to Joe Speakprop in the City of Law- lessness, and I don’t know how to get to his place. Then said Devilish, Do you see that Bridge? No, said the man. Do you see that Stop Light? said Dev- ilish. I think so, said he. Then fol- low the Light and cross the Bridge, said Devilish, and turn rght. At the Wicked Gate you will be told what to do. So Rum-Runner, for that was the man’s name, thanked Devilish and started. And I saw in my Dream that he had not gone many miles when, behold! the Truck became stuck fast in mud. Rum-Runner shifted to Low, but the Wheels spun. He threw her in Reverse, but the Truck didn’t move. He got out and pushed, but still the Truck would not move. And just when he was de- spairing of ever her getting out, I saw that a man named Sucker ap- proached. And seeing the Truch in the mud, he got a Team of Horses and pulled it out. And Sucker said, How art thou come to be in that place, which we call the Slough of Filth? Said Rum-Runner, T was directed this way by a man named Devilish, but truly I know not how 1 fell in the Slough. And Sucker said. There is a hard Road even through the midst of the Slough, but it is narrow, and often men lose it because of Darkness or Dizziness of the Head from Drink- ing. After some further talk Rum-Run- ner went on his way, and before long came to the Wicked Gate. And I saw that a Keeper came out, and said. By what right do you come? I know Joe, said Rum-Runner. So the Gate was opened to him, and the Keeper gave him directions, and asked about his Journey. Then Rum-Runner continued again. And I saw in my Dream that he came to a High Hill, the which he climbed in Low. Then going down the other side, he heard a loud noise; and be- hold! when he got out he found a Flat Tire. So he prepared him for a Struggle, and Wrestled with the Flat Tire for a long time. But in the end he prevailed, and went once more on his journey. And I saw that Rum-Runner was coming to a narrow Valley, and one side of the road was a Ditch and the other a Pit. And across the Road at that Place was a Car, and in the Car were some men, called Hijack- ers. Now Rum-Runner saw the Car, but increased his speed, for he thought by ramming it to get by. But he saw that the Hijackers had a Sub-Machine Gun, and he was pre- vailed on to stop. Seeing him stop, the Hijackers boarded the Truck. And when they poked a Revolver in his Ribs, he was constrained to go with them. So Rum-Runner was bound and put in the Car, and a Hijacker took his Truck. 20 THE GOLDEN-ROD Now I saw in my Dream that They came presently to a Wood, called the Forest of Sudden Death. And the Hijackers took Rum-Runner and Plugged him in the Dome, and left him there. So I saw that Rum-Run- ner came to his end. And I awoke from my Dream, and lo! it was but a Dream. But I heard a Great Noise of many feet, for the Cops were raiding the Place. So I left by the Back Door as they came in the Front. TO DIET To diet, or not to diet: that is the question. Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer The pangs and darts of underfed body Or to take forks against a sea of foods And by opposing end them. To diet; to reduce. No more: and by reducing, to say we end The clumsiness and the thousand discomforts That so much flesh is heir to; ’tis a con- summation Devoutly to be wished. To diet, to reduce. To reduce; perchance to be undernourished; ay. there’s the rub! For in that reduction what illnesses may come When we have entered on a strict period of fasting Must give us pause. There's the respect That makes calamity of so long diet; For who would bear the sight of forbidden food. The juicy chocolate, the creamy ice. The crisp potato chip, the frosted cup cake. The delectable sweets and pastries Which the thin the fat delight to tease with. When he himself might eat and eat Of their refreshment? Who would abstain from sweets To long for and desire under a no-sweet diet. But that the dread of gaining more flesh That greatly-to-be-dreaded condition Which no person wishes, strengthens the will pow'r. And makes us rather bear the flesh we have Than gain more that we do not want of? Thus fear does make strong the will of all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is made more great with the imagination And cakes that tempt and beckon With this regard their currants turned awry. And lose their toothsome temptation. Ruth Darr. A Complete Music Store for music lovers and musi- cians where all Foreign and American music is always available. A charge account gladly opened for the convenience of all of our patrons. The Boston Music Co.. 116 Boylston St.. Boston. Mass. PLYMOUTH ROCK ICE CREAM Is Served at our Cafeteria IT’S GOOD FOR THE, CHILDREN ALEXANDER’S TRIAL By Rita Doane UST where the edge of the wood began, in a little clearing, is a lonely, di- lapidated house. On the tenth day of June, 1902, a muscular woman stood at the door of the house, overlooking the vast extent of the valley. She saw the vast fields of summer grains and cornstalks, that were moved to and fro by the breeze. The woman knew that soon her son would return. That was why she watched so anxiously a speck that seemed to near the house. To make doubly sure she brought to bear an old spyglass, whose principal lens was cracked entirely through and gave her a smoky view of the road. Now she was entirely certain that her son, who had been three weeks absent, was coming home. Binzy, the house-dog, which had been watching her, seemed to know it, too, perfectly well; for, as the woman turned from her survey through the glass, his canine body developed a degree of wriggling friskiness, of which the grave old dog seemed half ashamed. He whined, and walked about the door- yard for a few moments, then gave iiis mistress a long, steady look, and seemingly satisfied with what he read in her face, jumped over the fence and started down the road into the valley at a full run. The woman knew that three or four hours must yet elapse before Alexander and Binzy would come along the path together, tired by their long tramp up from the valley. She thought and waited, as lonely mothers think and wait for absent sons. At about four o’clock a young, dark-eyed man, followed by the dog, came up the road and to the house. “Heigho, mother; all well?” was his greeting. The woman’s greeting was only, “How do you do, Alexan- der?” There was no show of senti- ment, not even a handshake; but a bright look in the man’s face, and a tremor in the voice of the woman conveyed the impression that these plain people felt a great deal more than they expressed. Two hours passed by, and after supper, the neighbors, who had seen Alexander and the dog come up the road, dropped in for a talk with “master Alexander,” as Alexander was called by his friends. Soon the inquiry was made, “Where did you leave your cousin Herman?” Alexander had taken his cousin Herman, who lived in town, with him upon his last trip, and hence the question. But Alexander did not answer the question directly. He seemed trou- bled and unhappy about it. He final- ly acknowledged that he and Her- man had not agreed, and that high words and blows had passed between them, adding that his cousin had finally left him and gone away in a huff, he knew not where, but some- where into the pineries of Canada. He declared, getting warm in his recollection of the quarrel, that he “didn’t care a darn” where Herman went, anyway. A month passed. It was July; Cousin Herman did not return. But certainly strange stories came from Canada, and reached the dwellers along the valley road. No Cousin Herman had been seen in the piner- ies; but just across the Canadian line, at the mouth of Fish River, where the sloops were moored to re- ceive their lading of lumber, a bruised, swollen, festering corpse had risen and floated in the glare of a hot July sun. The boatmen res- cued it, and buried it upon the shore. They described it as the body of a hale, vigorous young man, agreeing in height, size, and appearance with Cousin Herman. p b offense was committed in Canada, a Justice in the United States had no jurisdiction in the matter. It was many days before the wom- an saw her son again. She had not much opportunity to indulge in mel- ancholy fancies; she spent much of her time in pulling brush and wood out of the snow and breaking it with an axe, so as to adapt it to the size of her stove. The neighbors tried to be kind, but after all, what could neighbors amount to, when the nearest of them lived a mile away, and all of them were plain to say that they believed she was the mother of a murderer? But the neighbors also said the woman did not seem to mind the solitude and the rough work. She received three letters from Alexander in the course of the win- ter. The first told her that he was imprisoned, and awaiting his trial; and the last two said he had been convicted and must die. As March went out, and spring days and sunshine came, it was no- ticed that the face of Alexander’s mother looked sharp and white, but she went about the same duties as before, without seeming to be weak or ill. As the warm weather advanced, the time came for Alexander’s exe- cution. It was a sorrowful scene; the woman saw her son before he went to his death, but only for a few mo- ments. The son that she raised to a man was being punished for a crime he had never comniitted. She knew that he was not guilty, the only one who really believed in him. The strong woman became weak; and, as the June flowers began to bloom, she ceased to move about and sat most of each day in a chair by the open door. A few friendly neigh- bors came to the little house and helped the woman carry on the work to be done. Her mind changed with the relaxation of her physical frame. She no longer strove to hide her tears, but, like a tired infant, would weep without restraint or conceal- ment. 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