Boston University College of Practical Arts and Letters - Sivad Yearbook (Boston, MA)

Page 199 text:

193

Page 198 text:

Back Row: Miss Hughes, Miss Arratto, Miss Armstrong, Hess, Miss Vaughan, Limric, Miss Kirby Front Row: Taylor, Miss Carleton, Ahern, Miss Hemeon, Sharp Junior Week—the week of weeks! Prom night—the night of nights! That’s what every Junior exists for—the only thing that keeps her going through the long weary year. The first thing on the program was the Panadelphic Dance at the Bruns- wick—success one!! Then came the show on Wednesday night, ‘‘My Juliet,”’ at the Boston Opera House. C. 5S. 5S. is mighty proud of the showing the girls made this year. And the after-theatre dance helped to make this event success number two! C.5.S. then decided to take an active hand in the festivities and gave a tea dance at the Hotel Westminster on April 19. It was unanimously voted a good time, and so we came home happy from success number three! And Prom night! At the Somerset—Bert Lowe’s orchestra—attractive favors—everyone dressed up in beautiful clothes—who could help having ‘‘a marvelous time?’’ And we danced until three and weren’t a bit tired. In fact, a good many of us topped the week off with fraternity dances on Saturday night. Anyway, for the second All-University Prom, everything meant SUCCESS in capital letters. 192

Page 200 text:

St. Peter Sees the Class of 1924 2000 A.D.! St. Peter looked up at the new calendar above his desk in sur- prise, and shaking his hoary head, exclaimed, ‘‘My time has come at last. Judg- ment Day is come, after all these weary centuries of waiting.” THAT DAY there was no light. Cyclones swept away all that men had built, and rain and hail washed clean the sites where the signs of civilization and culture had been. Early the Summons thundered forth from Heaven for all humankind to gather outside the Celestial Gates. Only once would the Gates be opened to admit the waiting throng. Within a brief space of time, millions of poor, miserable human beings, with bowed heads and trembling limbs had as- sembled and were admitted into the Great Chamber, guarded by St. Peter alone, there to await their Call. At last the gates were closed. Suddenly, there was a shrill cry: “O, St. Peter, please open the gates and let mein. I am only a minute late!” “Your name?”’ sternly demanded St. Peter. “It is Theresa Arratto. It was going to be changed, but I was late for the wedding. Oh, please let me in!” Throughout that Chamber echoed the name of Theresa Arratto, and one hundred and ten gray-haired women pushed their way through the multitude to St. Peter and pleaded with him to permit their remaining classmate to enter. Moved to compassion by their pleas, he opened the Gates and let the stray wan- derer in. There were tears of joy at this ultimate reunion and fond embraces, and all the multitude rejoiced with the little group. “Theresa,” they cried, ‘‘of 1924. Where have you been all these years, and what made you so late TODAY?” “T was a social satelite in Paris until THIS happened, and had hundreds of admirers at my feet, ready to obey my most whimsical command. I was just planning a ball in honor of the second Lady Vascelles (‘Peg’ Kirby, you know— the dancer) when the Summons came, and I simply had to finish making out the invitation list. Why, here is ‘Peg’ herself, and ‘Lil’ Lehmann, who used to be editor of our ‘Sivad.’ Honestly, ‘Lil,’ your hands are still stained with ink!”’ “That,’’ Lillian answered with a smile, ‘‘was caused by all the excitement. I was working on my greatest novel when I was commanded to come here and in my haste tipped over an enormous inkwell. “Tl tell you what. Since we are all here, let each girl give an account of herself since graduation in 1924.”’ All agreed to this suggestion, and the stories were begun. Glancing at St. Peter, I saw him seated at his desk, pen in hand, ready to write. Moved by great curiosity, I looked over his shoulder and watched him write the following: “Florrie Alderson met with success as an aviatrix and explorer. 194