Bloomington High School - Aepix Yearbook (Bloomington, IL)

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ii l .fl . 1. l. i 1 I ff l I i .QQ 'f l . ,i Q-l 'Y . .5 Qs! iii: , 1 if L.. 4 ia .S i Ev' ' .f ' V' 1355: - 'ist' si' 1 ' rgcg. i -2 I 4 :fi '1f'if ' spyi- , 4 . sqm!! ' ,, eff iff., 'i J-TZ' ,. ' .-V i 7922 THE AEG-IS Blount 8: Christie, Inc. GICRVAISIC lSU'r1.1iR, 'ZZ tXVinner second prize Merwin Cup Contestj Little Kliss Christie sat at her desk in her tiny green office and typed-and typed-but she did not mind typing for Ann Christie had long ago gotten over the little aches in the finger tips from pounding hard, merciless keys. And this day especially Bliss Christie didn't mind, for she saw the wide, blue harbor shim- mering outside the windows of the Trans-Oceanic offices and on her desk was a leaf brown bowl of golden daffodils. Spring had come to New York and Miss Christie's heart rejoiced, not that it had not rejoiced every Spring, but this Spring somehow, the little plot of lawn in front of her boarding house seemed to get green sooner and the Howers in Central Park seemed more eager to bloom and that very morning a robin had winged his way over her head, as she walked to the car line. Somehow or other, the very air seemed filled with budding hope and peace and then too. Ann Christie's pay envelope had been slightly swelled by a recent addition of five dollars a week. Ann Christie had worked as Harvey J. Blount's private secretary for fifteen years. He had been a young, good looking fellow of thirty when she entered his employ and when she saw him with his adored wife and seven year old youngster, he became Ann Christie's special deity. Not that Harvey Blount ever paid any attention to her, but she liked his keen, athletic strides when he walked. the way he bit off the end of his Havana, the tilt at which he wore his hat and the way he ran his words together.-Ann Christie loved them all. Yes, she had been with the Trans-Oceanic for fifteen years-fifteen long years -in which Ann Christie's rose leaf skin was crossed and recrossed by tiny lines-years in which her dancing brown eyes were starred at the corners by spidery crow's feet-years in which Harvey j's beautiful wife died and his son grew up into an exact counterpart of his handsome father. except for his blue eyes, his mother's one gift besides the hazy memories of her. So this day, Ann Christie typed away at her reports on the Spring shipping schedule and looked out of the window, inhaling the fragrance of her bowl of daffodils and mentally dancing with the amazing little wavelets that broke up the calm expanse of blue sea. She was sharply recalled from her reverie by the opening of the office door and Harvey J. came in, a little less handsome and athletic, a trifle heavier around the waistband and very much grayer, but his eyes were the same snappy brown and Ann Christie noticed none of the other failings. Miss Christie, is that schedule report ready for the board, please? You know'we meet at two-thirty and it's two now. All but two lines, Mr. Blount, the last two, said Anng her fingers typing on. Very well, Miss Christie, and l'd like to take you to dinner this evening, l've something important I want to talk to you about. Have you a previous en- gagement ? M, s Ann Christie's fingers stopped and then resumed their tapping as she looked up. Why, no, Mr. Blount. I haven't, but where shall we go, so I'll know what to wear F Page 26 7' i......nT Ii. 31.1 L.. Z. 41.2. , Q

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is lt fs THE AEGIS 1922 Beauty of Nature Beauty is each springing Hower, Each dewdrop pearl, each pink rose bower. Each lacey, silver, cobweb thread, The eastern sky all flaming red, Beauty is the bright sunshine, The honeysuckle. the columbineg It is the summer's bluest sky, The fleecy clouds that sail on high, The snow-capped mountains, and purple hills, The waterfalls, and rushing rills, The lacey shadows of the trees, The butterflies, the hum of bees. Each shady path, each mossy nook, Each meadow green, each bubbling brook, The August moon so round, so bright, A million stars that shine at night, The harvest Helds of golden grain, The black storm clouds. the falling rain. Beauty is the bluebird's call, Each red-gold leaf that, in the fall, Drifts through the air like a fairy boat. Upon its crystal sea afloat. 'Tis the squirrel's black eyes and bushy tail, The silver dove and speckled quail, The tall bare trees, ridged deep with snow, The whistle of the winds that blow, Each giant oak, each slender pine, Each dead, brown, shrivelled clinging vine. Beauty does not fade away, It is at night, it is at day, One thing comes when another goes, The golden-rod when fades the rose. Beautiful nature is God's own work, , He painted the sky, He gave voice to the brook, Every beauty above, in sea, or on land, VVas made by the Master's wonderful hand. BERTHA DAWSON, '24, Page 25

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- i A THE AEGIS gy 1922 VVell, I think it'll be best to go to Lord's. They're quiet and exclusive and they make a specialty of chicken pie. You like chicken pie, I believe, Miss Christie? and your business clothes will be quite all right. Very well. Mr. Blount, I love chicken pie, Ann's eyes twinkled, You can call for me at eight and here's your report, Mr. Blount, and she handed him the carefully typed sheets. Thank you, Miss Christie, l'll be there at eight and thank you againli' Harvey J. bowed himself out of his little secretaryis office. Harvey tl. was at the door, promptly at eight, hat in hand, and he escorted her down the steps and into the waiting roadster, which. contrary to the usual policy of older men, he drove himself. They rolled swiftly and noiselessly down the long avenues, surrounded by twinkling lights. The keen night air speedily whipped Ann's face to a delicate, Hushed pink and her brown eyes sparkled and danced like two fringed topazes. They stopped before the wide doors of Lord's, which was situated in what had been the city's most exclusive district. Harvey J. gravely, assisted Ann out of the machine and into the restaurant, where they checked their wraps. The waiter led them to a quiet. rose-lighted table and Harvey ordered, as he had always, and over the demi-tasse he finally came to the point. , Ann, I want to talk to you about Junior. I've been worried about him for two months. He doesn't seem to care anything for shipping-I've brought him to the office several times and he loiters around and then goes home, but that doesn't bother me as much as that affair with that fresh Peyton youngster over some silly little giggling fool. He's been no good since it occurred and he's gotten into a fast bunch that will never do anything but make him worse. XVhy, think of it, Miss Christie, he hasn't reached home once, not once, in the past month before three in the morning and I heard him tell the butler that he had been at a hip tea party till the wee, twinkie hoursf, those are his exact words. He's over-spent his allow- ance by half this last month and I'm helpless. I know shipping but I don't know boys, I'll admit it-Miss Christie, Iim stumped. Ann Christie quietly smiled to herself. Harvey probably never thought of the fact that she, in all her forty years, had not had as much contact with boys as he had, but Ann was ready. VVell, Mr. Blount, boys aren't exactly a typist's long suit, office boys especially, but they're far more interesting than any type- writer on the market because. in my mind, every man is a boy, with just a little more of life's struggle and knocks and merciless antagonism printed on him, with the self-confidence a little more taken out of him and his forehead a little more creased with little worry wrinkles, but every man's a great, big boy and if you give him the chance. heill prove it. Concerning Junior personally, if you're worry- ing about his companions, lid go out with him more. By the way, Mr. Blount, do you ever go out with Junior Ann Christie's eyes fastened directly on Harvey ,Vs and he reddenned. XVell, no. Miss Christie. He and I don't care for the same sort of entertain- ment. I never have cared tor anything concerned with musical shows and lim afraid Junior hasn't inherited my taste for the drama., There, Mr. Blount, is the reason why Junior is worrying you. IVhat reason, Miss Christie F Page 27