Ben Blewett Junior High School - Junior Life Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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How Mead Scored Us Off When Mead first came to the school, we were all taken in by his girlish looks, and no wonder. He had fair, curly hair, bright blue eyes, and a girl's pink and white complexion. He looked about fifteen years old. He arrived late one nightg so none of us saw him till the next morning. In the morning he came down to breakfast in a new blue suit without a speck of dust on it, and a spotlessly white collar. After breakfast a lot of the fellows began to question him as to what his name was and what his father did. He was as cool as a cucumber-most new chaps are awfully nervous at first, but he just said very coolly, My father is a gentleman, and so am I. My name is Adolphus Meadf' and then he turned away. The fellows were so astonished that they just stared after him without a word. I never saw such a chap in all my life. Well, time passed. and Mead was as bad as ever. One day, my chum, Cox, said to me, Look here, Todd, we've just got to take Mead down a peg or two. He's simply awful. Yesterday afternoon he came into the study While I was doing prep, and, taking up my Latin dictionaryg he said, 'I'll just borrow your dictionary for awhile,' and out he went, banging the door behind him, before I could say a word, and I've never seen a sign of my book since. Now, what do you think of that for a bit of cheek?', I don't know, I replied. 'Tm sick of Meadg I wish I'd never set eyes on him, so do shut up about him. That evening Cox came to me and said excitedly, I've thought of a rip- ping plan, old chap. Then he told me that he had heard that Lady Parke- stone, who lived about a mile from our school, was giving a big dance. Well, I said impatiently, whatever has that got to do with us? Why, don't you see. answered Cox, it's a splendid opportunity for us to pay out Mead. I didn't see what Lady Parkestone or her dance had to do with Mead and us, until Cox condescended to explain his idea. Well, he said, I asked Mead quite casually the other day if he knew Lady Parkestone, and he replied in an off hand tone that he thought his mother knew herg so let's write him a note from her ladyship inviting him 7

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to her dance. He'll feel an awful fool when he goes and finds he wasn't really asked. I told Cox that it was quite surprising how even idiots occasionally hit on a decent idea, because I didn't want him to get too uppish over his plan, which really wasn't a half bad one. After a fierce skirmish, in which I considerably damaged his beauty, we wrote the note. Next day Mead re- ceived the note, and, as he opened it, we saw he looked a bit astonished, which made Cox nudge me violently. On the night of the dance we found out that he had been granted leave to go. As we crossed the playground next morning, we met Mead, and he was grinning like a Cheshire cat. He said in that cheeky tone of his, I say, you two, it was awfully kind of you to invite me to Lady Plarkestone's dance: I enjoyed it immensely. Cox looked rather glum at this, so I retorted hastily, Ah! we took you in nicely that time. You needn't tell us you enjoyed yourself, I bet you felt jolly small when you got there, and I hope it's given you a lesson. Quite the contrary, he answered calmly, so that I felt like punching his head, Lady Parkestone happens to be my motherls cousin, and, as I had already received another invitation from her, I guessed it was supposed to be a trick. All the same it was very thoughtful of you to invite me, and I thoroughly appreciated it. The grub was ripping, and her ladyship tipped me before I went, so I quite enjoyed my 'lesson'. as you call it. He went off whistling cheerfully, leaving Cox and me staring at each other in as- tonishment. We were a couple of fools , groaned Cox, and I agreed. After that we let him alone, and he is just as bad as ever. When he wants to annoy us he says, When's Lady Parkestone's next dance? and of course, we can't say a word. Eugene Jacques-9th Grade. An Amazing Adventure No, I said, there is no real adventure, excitement, or romance in lifeg it is all fiction. People like it, so I write it, but it is well I have a strong imagination? A But , interrupted Tom Van Dyne, you are wrong, very wrong, Greg- ory Eliot, and some day we Che swept his arm above the little group of peo- plej will prove how wrong you are in such. a way that you will never again be able to say with a clear conscience what you have just stated. One night several months later a storm rose to such a height that I went to the window to close the shutters. It is indeed a night when one can be glad he is inside looking out , I said. As I looked, a dim shape detatched itself from, the black shadows and pouring rain, crept stealthily across the small space where the flickering 8