West Fairmont High School - Maple Leaves Yearbook (Fairmont, WV)

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org-Hfgb F f 'rn X u ,9 - f . a, H - .4 , A I H i , 9 oN1--'Iii' ' -V V WJVWD, ,,. . , Wy fa guy, not a nickel between him and starvation. No prospects, no hopes, no ideas, no job, not even a trinket that was worth pawning. If that isn't a nice out- look for a man, twenty-three years of age, I don't know what is. He sat down at the tiny table and figured it out. He could live another day on the meal he had just eaten, and after that he could beg a few pennies to keep him until the room rent was due, Then he would be out of luck for sure. When he had given up hope, the door opened and his creditor entered. 'You here?' asked the gentleman in qusetion, taking a quick survey of the room. . 'Yes,' murmured John, dully. 'What is it?' 'I hear you're in financial difl'iculty,' said the man. 'I've been watching you for a long time and I think you're the man I want. Now, I've a propo- sition I want to make. There's a job on B- Street that I want to pull- thirty thousand dollars--fifteen smacks apiece, and I can't do it alone. 'With that money, you can marry that Jane and pull stakes for Europe or South America or Mexico-some place. And all for an hour's work. Does it sound good?' 'It does,' agreed John, 'but I'm not going to accept. I'm not going to sneak about through the alleys like a beaten cur. I'm not going to go through the life of a thief and a robber. I may be poverty itself, but I'm not dead yet. I'm going to stand up for my rights if I get knocked down on every corner. John Andrews is going to stay here and iight. That's what I 'm going to do- FIGI-ITl' The gentleman from the eleventh floor rubbed his chin gingerly. 'Derned if I don't think you're right,' he concluded. 'At least it has the right feel to it. I ought to know. I can tell you the combination of a lock just by the weight of the tumblers. Er-you won't tell?' he added nervously. No,' was the answer, 'I won't. It's every man for himself and the best man wins the pot. It's none of my business what you do so long as it does not concern me.' 'You're right. Will you shake on that?' asked the safeman. 'I must be running along-say, here, the boy brought a telegram while you were gone- plumb forgot all about it-I signed for it. So longl' 'Good-byel' said John, as he tore the envelope and spread the sheet before him. I don't remember the exact words, but I know that a certain lawyer wished to notify a John Andrews that his uncle had chosen this particular time to die and had named his nephew as sole heir to a two-million-dollar estatef' Make it snappy, urged Wally. It's almost time for the whistle. What did he do then? Take Prudence and go to Florida for the winter? Mr. Williams was deep in the realms of an uninteresting ledger. Hey, come to earth! yelled someone. What happened to John then? Jack threw a vacant stare over his shoulder. Oh, that guy? Why-he jumped down the elevator shaft. LEROY FREEMAN, ZS Page 128

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V 1-Hr6,V coli -ff-L - mlvit seisf . 'V 'w,,,,,..-Af' , ,, r J Ten Stories R. JACKSON B. WILLIAMS, expert accountant, pivoted himself l around on his revolving stool and scratched the lobe of his ear ll Gs X with a hard lead pencil. When it comes to telling stories, he l 1 .af Q5 -3. 9 l said, That's where you're all out of gas. f Supposin' you tell us one, suggested a bald-headed clerk. You can't tell me a thing about 'em, asserted the office boy as he settled himself upon a convenient wastebasket. They're all the same. The hero takes a last swat at the villian, then he marries the girl and they live happily ever after. Bunk-that's all-bunk. Well, said Mr. Williams, I could tell you of a time when it didn't work out, but- If it's time you're a-needin', said Wally, the janitor. We've got better than a half-hour yet. Jack Williams leaned back against his desk and buried his elbows in the cluttered papers assembled there. Well, he surmised, allowing himself a satis- fied smile, his name was John--John Andrews--and he was a salesman. John liked to sell things: it didn't matter what it was, he could sell it. He could sell a plug hat to a boiler mechanic and make him think it would keep his ears warm. One day John decided not to sell things any more, but to hunt himself a more stable and more profitable job. He wanted a job which needed a man with 10076 confidence in himself, 10076 nerve, and grit enough to shove a proposition down the single track to success-all because he had met The girl: and her name was -- Maude, chorused the listeners. Jack smiled, showing his even teeth. Wrong, he said. All wrong. It is Prudence. Well, he gave up the old job and looked for the work he felt capable of doing, but that was a scarce article in those days. Each prospective employer gave him that old one about, Sorry, but we're full up: and he watched his money go and go until he was down to his very last thin dollar. Of course, Prudence knew nothing of the matter, and John did not tell her because he knew she would want to lend him money. Late one evening, John climbed the stairs to his tiny apartment. He had taken Prudence to a movie and after that to dine. All he could remember was Sha? the man in the flat above him held his I. O. U. for the sum of forty-nine o ars. Just where it all went to was what Sherlock Holmes gets paid for. It was gone-every read cent-and his pocketbook was as flat as the spare tire on my brother's Ford. When he opened the door to his rooms, he started thinking. Here he was: Page 127

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6,1-HIGM 'th N K 4 1 lf f .7 3 I , , Q u fl. V . L N f v - I V4 M',f,fff Y sew' ff! U 'Using Your Head .-,- ,-yt !OHN and Tom were on their way to town to buy some radio parts ., ' and to mail a package at the postoffice for John's father. On their way they were discussing the new hookup of Mr. , Ricks, a local inventor. ' A As they passed his house they heard him call: John, are you going to town? Yes, sir, answered John. Could you mail this letter for me? I would like to have it go out in tonight's mail. Yes, Mr. Ricks, and the two boys went to the porch to get the letter. By the way, how is your new hookup. Mr. Ricks? asked John. Well, boys, it seems to work to a certain extent, but not to my satisfaction. Come in, boys, if you have time, and I will show you the set. John and Tom were glad to have a chance to see the workshop and the new set, and they needed not a second invitation. There along the walls were tools in the neatest order and gauges of different kinds, but on the work bench was the neatest and best-looking set they had ever seen. ' John, said Mr, Ricks, after he had explained several of the line points of the set, in this coil here, pointing to a small, compactly wound coil, is the most important part of the set. I have wound this coil in a different way and it is insulated better than any I ever made, but yet there seems to be a defect somewhere in the coil. I would give anybody fifty dollars if he could find the trouble. John, taking a better look at the coil, said: What form of acid did you use in soldering, a solid or a liquid? A liquid, John. I always use a liquid, for I think I get better results with it, said Mr. Ricks. Miz Ricks, I had a trouble in a coil and could not find it until I remem- bered I had used a liquid acid in soldering, and thought maybe I had dropped a little acid on the coil, and sure enough a tiny bit of insulation was destroyed, causing a short. Maybe that is your trouble, Mr. Ricks. And then they examined the coil, and found something had removed part of the insulation. Well, said Tom, we must be going. after Mr. Ricks had fixed the defect and they got the letter and proceeded down the street. At the postofiice John Went to give the man at the window a one-dollar bill for a stamp when he noticed a fifty-dollar bill with a note, saying A gift to a boy who uses his head. JAMES DARRAH, '29 Page 129