Barstow School - Weathercock Yearbook (Kansas City, MO)

Page 31 text:

A DISASTER AT SEA Z7 MWC must sneak away from the passengers! No one must suspect, even if it fails. Mr. Lear jumped a foot! Two desperadoes! A murderous plot! And hc must foil it. Picking up his scattered luggage and trying to moderate any appearance of importance. he gave his interpretation of Sherlock l-lolmes's careless shuffle as he silently tracked the two criminals to their doom. But why, when he was so cool, should his umbrella go clattering down the gangplank and splash with a flat gurgle, as he saw one of the men coo words of encouragement to the deadly black box? Again Mr. Lear was distinctly annoyed. l-le couldnt report that an infernal machine was on the boat. But he could follow it about and see that no harm was done. The departure of the big liner was a happy one. The band boomed forth America and an army of white handkerchiefs fluttered over the rail, hiding many a misty eye. The very first throb of the mighty engine certainly sent some kind of thrill up the spine of Mr. P. Q. Lear, first-class. I-le lcft the delightful mysteries of the ship to be explored later.-that is. if there should be any mysteries left after the little black box had done its work,-and sank weakly on a divan facing stateroom 43. Through that door the men had disappeared. Mr. Lear couldn't follow them but he could wait outside and keep faithful guard. l-le puckered up his scanty eyebrows, stuck on vertically instead of horizontally by some slip of nature. and began thinking what pleasant looking scoundrels these laughing fellows were, But then. The more saint-like the person, the worse the sin, he reflected. Mr. Lear was just then awakened from thought by a metallic voice which. just for a minute, he dreamed was that of his stenographer, ordering him to hand over that fresh copy. Then he came back to earth. and realized that he was really crossing the ocean. and that the next voice. cooing uncertainly, with a high girlish giggle on 'he end, belonged to an elderly maid of uncertain age. Miss Almira Perkins was consoling her mates with a dissertation on mankind. Theres not one of them that would play with us. Well, deep sigh, it's their loss, not ours. Nervous giggles. But at that moment their accusing gaze rested on poor Mr. Lear, vainly trying to make himself smaller than the red-plush arm of his com- fortable couch, Ah, that's a nice little mang I know he'l1 come and play bridge with us! Thus it was a very uneasy, squirming man that renigged the ace of hearts and caused lvfiss Almira with remarkable versatility to suddenly veer from one view to another as she remarked, beaming encouragingly on him, An ideal husband need not necessarily be expert at trivial things,