Arlington High School - Indian Yearbook (Arlington, MA)

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THE ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION. 7 in the city.— Note the crease; — never more will so-called friends stop yon on the street and, pointing to your knee, snicker, ‘See that hump?’ when you are the wearer of this garment. Fur- ther, the owner of this pair of trousers has solved the razor problem. Often have I used this crease when my razor has been too dull and stupid to perform it’s task. And now, gentlemen, how much am I offered for this— this melody in G flat ?” But the excitement was intense when the coveted dress-suit was held up. Dick and Phil pushed forward, each eager to become it’s possessor. “A most artistic bit of clothing,” Bob earnestly informed his hearers. “One of the best works of art in modern archi- tecture — quite a masterpiece, I may say. E ' elicately moulded from the broadest broadcloth on the continent, and lined within and without with most exquisite satin. Warranted to fit anyone who can wear it. Come, gentlemen, who can look upon so fair a garment and not be moved to part with his money? Breathes there a man with soul so dead — ” “Twenty dollars,” Dick sang out. “Oh, cruel sir,” with a reproachful look over his spectacles, “how could’st mock me thus? Twenty paltry dollars for a suit such as a queen might be proud to — ” Twenty-five,” broke in Phil. “And three.” “Raise it two.” Dick hesitated and flushed a bit. Then he called “Thirty-three.” “ — five,” a little less certain. And now both bidders became very cautious. Neither knew just how much higher the other could go, and each knew that he was nearing his own limit. Finally, for thirty-nine dollars and thirty cents, the suit was handed down to Dick by Bob, who wept in a tearless, but nevertheless heart-rending manner over the loss of his beloved dress-suit. It was now nearly five o’clock. As the last article had been disposed of, Bob very unkindly turned the crowd from his rooms, and sat down to count his small fortune. He had barelv seated himself when a note was handed in from his cousin Nan. “Dear Bob — ” be read “I know you have been anxious to take Janet somewhere for a long time, so here’s your chance. — Call for her to- night at seven-thirty, and meet the rest ot the crowd on the seven-thirty-five car from the Square. I’m getting up an impromptu theatre party for this even- ing, and we’re going to have a box, so near your dress-suit. “As ever, “Nan.” Then it was that Bob broke his repu tation and swore 1 WHAT THE TWINS WROTE HOME. O Mother, dear : This is the dearest old school ! Eileen and I are just in love with it so soon. We have been out all over the grounds exploring and, Mumsie if you could see the gnarled old apple trees, the ramb- ling old stone walls and the elms! It’s just like home and we aren’t going to be the least bit lonesome. We met the professors at supper, and had to curb our spirits rather too much for comfort. It’s all so very dignified in the dining room, and quiet and gloomy. There is a sure enough English butler. Perkins, who nearly drives me into fits just to look at him. And Eileen choked over her soup when he passed the crackers ! It’s enough to make anyone choke to see that great arm coming ma- gestically in front of one’s face and to hear that strenuous breathing (I think Perkins is afflicted with asthma. ) Our German professor is a dear. He’s rather short and wears spectacles and smiles at you so queerly from his twink- ley grey eyes. Pie speaks broken Eng- lish, (very much broken) and gets so fussed up trying to express himself that he rumples his curly hair ' til it looks as if a cyclone had struck it! I think he ' ll be lots of fun. The girls told us that thev have discovered a romance between

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6 THE ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION. tion in his rooms and auction off some of his glad rags,” explained Merrill. Jove! Me for a dress-suit!” began Dick Holway. I need one like time, and — ” “Oh you Dick ! Same here, I see where there’s some tall bidding,” broke in Phil Wentworth, with a smile. “Me for his new pumps ! Pretty kip- py pieces of furniture, I call ’em.” “I’m going in strong for his snappy overcoat, if he has it up for sale,” said Merrill. “Heigho, — here’s Cabby him- self!” and a shout was raised which spoke well for Bob Cabot’s popularity among his friends. “Well, are you sports coming to my auction sale Thursday?” inquired he, beaming genially on all. “Sure, we’ll be there with tinsel on,” answered Holway, speaking for the crowd. “What is it, Bob? Debts too heavy for you?” inquired Billy Mason. “Why don’t you try the pawn-shop? Go to Rubenstein’s — Ruby’s a jewel for fair,” — looking fondly at two pawn-tickets which he had drawn from his pocket. “Can’t. — Father’s on to it and made a kick. Not enough money in it anyway. Yes, I’m hard up for money and this seems to be the easiest thing. I don’t get any more money from home until the thirtieth and here it is only the sixth. I guess I can manage to live without so many clothes for a month. I’ll try and get some of them back then, paying in- terest, if you say so.” “How interesting, ' ’ murmured Billy. “ Purina nee, thy name is Mason,” growded Holway. “We shall have to punish you punctiliously. “Out with him ! Roll him in the snow,” roared the others, and then pro- ceeded to suit the action to the words. Then Wentworth asked, anxiously. — “Are you really going to buy your dress- suit back. Bob? I’m willing to put up a good price for it. I need one bad and — ” “Oh well, it all depends. Of course it may be so worn that it would pay to buy a new one, you know,” drawled Bob. •‘Wouldn’t any one think I was a dead game sport, though !” exclaimed Phil. “Hear him rave! Tell you what boys, let’s make it a point not to let Cabby buy any of his things back until the first of March. That’s two months, and I reallv think that he shouldn’t attend so many social functions.” “He sure can’t if we have his clothes,” laughed Merrill. “Good idea. Phil, — for you. All right, then, — no glad rags for Cabby for two months !” “Oh, I say fellows !” pleaded Bob — “That ' s a nice way to treat your little friend. — Why, I might have a hurry bid somewhere and want some decent clothes more than they’re worth.” “What if Janet should invite you some- where, Caleb? maliciously inquired Hol- way. Bob whistled. Then his ' face fell. “Things don’t seem to lie that way just at present,” he said, very gravely for him. Oh well, buck up, old man !” cried Billy, clapping him on the back. “These are going to be pretty dead months, I guess, by the looks of things. There’ll be nothing doing, — absolutely nothing.” “Let us hope not,” came fervently from Bob. Then, — “ advertise this thing around, will you, boys? Thank heaven. I have got plenty of clothes, at any rate, but perhaps ’twould be wise to save out two common suits, at least.” A few minutes later, the crowd dis- persed, full of Bob Cabot’s latest money making scheme. So enthusiastically had the auction been noised about college, that twentv students, or more, had gathered in Bob’s room on Thursday afternoon to witness the fun. Promptly at three o’clock, Bob, en- veloped in a long linen duster, and wear- ing a pair of spectacles, over which he peered in a most ludicrous manner, stepped up on the window seat, struck a gong, and the auction commenced. He spoke in his deepest, oratoriai tones, reeling yard after yard, so to speak, concerning the merits of each ga rment. “Here y’are, gents,” he roared, hold- ing up a pair, of trousers, ‘the best made

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8 THE ARLINGTON HIGH SCHOOL CLARION. him and the English teacher, who comes from Texas. Every morning there is a bunch of flowers in her class room and whenever Mr. Hokaus passes her in the hallways, he turns the “fieriest” red, but never says a word. The other teachers seem nice, too, and the Botany one is just a girl straight from college and she acts scared stiff. We fixed our rooms tonight and they certainly look chic. My bestest love to all my dear ones, Your tired but happy Eleanor. My Dear Jack: Well, it’s two weeks since we arrived and up to now Eve let Eleanor do the family writing for various reasons. I ' m very glad you’re not within a hundred miles of this place ’cause, with your habit of continuous crushes, you “wouldn ' t know just presactly whether you were here or there,” as Katy says. There is such a bunch of girls ! All kinds and de- scriptions, and you ' d have to have hearts made by the wholesale to supply them, I think. 1 wish you’d send your guitar — or do you still need it to serenade your fair Alice? Didn’t he want to be teased about his little affairs? Never mind, brother mine, you’ll be a truly man next October and then — May be it would do you good to see our German teacher and the little west- ern girl who teaches us English, for if ever two people were in love, those two are, and I’m beginning to think that per- haps the worse you get it, the better it is for you afterward (like the mumps you know). Any way, it’s certainly worth while. Must say good night. Eleanor sends love and so do I. Affectionately, Eileen. Dearest Father : Two solid months since your two ter- rors departed ! Flow are you surviving the shock? And how is Katy serving your coffee without little me to drop the sugar in ? You’re an angel to send us here. Dad, and we love it. I have to study, which goes just a bit funny with me, but I’m going to know so much when I get home that you ' ll wish I’d air my knowledge elsewhere. I told you about Perkins, didn ' t I ? But did I tell you about “Perkins and the puppy?” You must know that that sol- emn gentleman has a most wholesome hatred for small dogs and so I borrowed one from the boy that brings the express bundles, and tied the canine up in the china closet. It barked some, but finally subsided ' til Perkins came to set the table for tea and then, such a rumpus ! A whole bunch of the girls were in the room and they nearly doubled over, laughing at Perkin ' s efforts to get the animal out. “Most unseemly conduct, young ladies,” was all his highness deigned to say. 1 think he suspects me. Don ' t you think. Dad, that it’s a whole lot more interesting to live right in a love story than to read about one? That’s what we’re doing. If you could see Mr. Hokaus and Miss Marlowe I know you ' d love them both, only it ' s getting on my nerves because he takes so long. I would have liked to have seen you and Mother when you were like that. Eileen has got the bluest blues you ever did see, but I don ' t dare ask any questions, ’cause Avery’s class banner has been put back in the trunk ! Won’t you be glad when vacation time comes, Daddy ? Love from “Pat.” Dear Brother : Glad to hear from you so soon. No! most emphatically no! I don ' t want you to say anything whatever to Avery about me. If he wants to know what the trou- ble is let him ask me and not try to find out in that way. I’ll tell you, but no one else, Jackie. He sent me a letter in- tended for another girl and, well, he called her all sorts of pet names that he used to call me, that’s all. I’m not angry, only just sorry and unhappy, and oh. I want to come home so, but I won ' t give in because of Eleanor. Dear, you ' ve al- w ays helped me out and can you find any explanation for that letter? I’ve tried