Bay Ridge High School - Maroon and White Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

Page 23 text:

for use as Candela Wicks, another form her sister's stinginess took. Lee re- belled against this, too, since she was getting Baggs under her eyes from reading by candlelight. Sis is certainly a iBlodget on the family iscutcheon', said Lee, rue- fuily. HSometimes I feel that I should Welsh on her, but there is nobody to welsh on her to. It is too bad that mother and father are in Europe. A kinder, Braverman never lived than father. He is a perfect quI and Deg- hueest person I've ever knowneand ambitious! HI-Ie worked that whole Gran' Field of Wheat and sugar Kain When he was younger. HBut, sisteneoh! I am barely Ebel to hold up my head. Dick tells me that I am so Cerino, but little does he know that What Israel is that I am very much disturbed at my lot in life. He thinks I havent a Ker in the world, but I Havecker. 'Malone in this Wicked wide world! I cannot Barrett much longer. HWeII, I think it's Tonder go to the Miller, the Baker, and the Weaver to pay my bills, which are many. Ah, me, the Wolfe is at my door . . . soon I won't have a Kupfer to drink from. That reminds me, I must away and cool my fevered brow With an Alka-Stelzer! TI-IE EN D Editor's Note: Serota be a law against this sort of thing. CHEMISTRY, PHYSICS AND BIOLOGY

Page 22 text:

tEditoWs Comment: This stowy was contributed to the Ridge Echo a year ago by An'n Hardie. It was handed back with the accompanying cm'ticism by the Echo adviseq', Mr. Anton B. Serota. The Maroon and White now takes 97'th pleasurre in printing both the original stowy and M7 Serotats comment. THWARTED GIRLHOOD or THE PUN-Y STORY OF CINDEREL-LEE Lee's sister had Benway for several Weeks touring the British Isles and reveling in the delights that Avon and Shropshire and other lovely places had to offer. She had returned home that morning at the crHackedorn and was reKleining on the Sopher as she talked with Lee. iil suppose you are glad to be Back, said Lee, attempting to be Witte. ul am, her sister replied, to Lee's surprise, iibut l was a little upset when I was crossing the Waters. HYou don't look so well . . . not quite as Staudt as when you left.'.' HAnd I'm very tired. I have a Stack of letters to answer, said her sister. I go through all this at the end of every Somer. Vacationing always Putz me back a few weeks, in my correspondence. 0, Powers that be! If I were only King with a dozen secretaries to do my letter-writing! Thenl might Behrman and his follieseand lettersff HYes. It's a pity that you have so many Franz, Schneered Lee, going into the Hall where she could conceal her emotions, for Lee was Greene with envy. . Well, thank goodness, I'm Fried of any worries like yours, she called, putting on her hat. nGoodbye. .l'm going for a walk in the Forrest. Some of the trees need Bruning. Hlt it's rabbits you want to Hunt, Ley. said her sister, with a smirk, HThen stop Stahling and hurry. We have nothing in the house for your supper. Are you trying to be Finney? tBut Lee was used to this kind of treatmentj uWe have a couple of things: Faust, a can of beans and second, some spinach, said the sister, gleefully. HWell, all right, then. I'll be Levin you, said Lee, as she Drew on her gloves. Crozier eyes and go to sleep while I am away. I hope that sister of mine will Draper muffler about her shoulders, said the sister, when Lee had left. HShe's been Coffin a lot, today. She must have caught Cole. somehow. Soliloquizing further, she said: ill wonder if Dick likes the way she Combs her Brown hair, now. It so, Denham and her will get married, may- be, and I will not have to worry about her welfare any longer. Meanwhile, as she Randles through the forest, Lee is thinking: ill do wish Sis wouldn't be so Close. 1 have to beg for a month, even if I only want a Buck, while she goes out and buys herself whatever her little heart desires and keeps up with the latest Stiles. Her life is the Katz! As she went further into the forest, she gathered certain vines suitable Seventy-four

Page 24 text:

Nothing Ever Happens A TRUE STORY BY AUDREY HOAG Woodbury, New Jersey EAR RUTH, D I guess my letters have been pretty dull up to now. Nothing ever seems to happen in Woodbury. In the daytime the natives gossip over the back yard fences and in the evening they crochet . . . such fun! But last night we were seated at the dinner table when the doorbell rang . . . Daddy rose to answer it. He opened the door and there stood a tall, slightly stooped man of about fifty. His high Cheek bones, dark, unfathom- able eyes and coarse black hair proclaimed him of another w0Ild. He twisted a weather beaten hat in his hands as he asked in a voice that had a trace of Western twang: uDo the Dimmicks live here? No. I'm sorry, said Dad. uI believe they occupied this house before we moved in, but I don't know where they are now. HYou couldn't help me find them? The voice was weary now. It's imperative that I get in touch with a young woman who lives with them. I don't know where she is at present and my only hope of finding her is through the Dimmicks. I've traveled quite a distance and I should like to accomplish something before returning home. HPerhaps Alma would know where you could reach her, ventured mother. I'll run over and ask. You come in and rest awhile. You look tired out. With that, she departed for the house across the street. We gazed at the stranger with frank curiosity, and he, sensing this, twisted his mouth in an odd, sad smile. III suppose you are wondering who I am and what my mission is, he said. HI have just come from Washington where some of my friends and I have conferred with the President about providing better housing condi- tions for us Indians. nYou look surprised, my boy, he said, looking at my young brother. nYes, I'm an Indian, but without the blanket and tomahawk with which you usually associate those of my kind. Well, Ruth, I had to blink to keep my eyes from popping out. Imagine such a thing happening to us-especially in a town like Woodbury where nothing ever happens! lll've come to Woodbury to find my daughter whom I haven't seen for nearly twenty years, continued the Indian. llln the summer of 1919, Mr. and Mrs. Dimmick traveled out west, and stopped at our reservation. Bess was a scrawny, neglected child of seven. Her mother had died the year before, and 1, young and ambitious, was attending Colsted University, and unfortunately had little time to tend to her needs. Mrs. Dimmick, in a tour of our Village, was attracted to Bess. Under strange circumstances, Mr. Dimmick rescued the Chief's nephew from the Seventy-six