Bristol High School - Green and White Yearbook (Bristol, RI)

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01 VINE RETRIBUTION Hark, my children And I’ll tell to thee A fairy tale By Marjorie Magee. As the colored congregation in the small church rose enthusiastically to its feet to sing all verses of “Onward Christian Soldiers,” the guest-preacher, a tall, dusky individual with a face which would astound—nay, frighten the most stalwart person, walked with a menacing gait toward the pulpit. During the singing of the second verse, a suave, sinister man dressed in chauffeur’s livery, strolled nonchalantly into the church, and seated himself in an obscure corner of the room. When the assembly had finished singing the hymn, the minister, in a rusty voice, commenced his sermon on “Crime Does Not Pay.” Soon his voice began to increase in volume, and the congregation shuddered in rhythm with the frequent crackings of his voice, during one of which the organ joined, making a melodic chord which faintly resembled the opening note of the “Star Spangled Banner.” The throng rose in a body, and then discovering its mistake, hastily sat down again. At this peculiar action, the young man who was sitting in the rear of the church began to squirm uneasily, and cast suspicious glances at the rest of the congregation, especially those who occasionally murmured “Hallelujah for no apparent reason. Now the minister seemed to be singing his sermon, for he found it difficult to talk with an organ note continually playing. A few minutes passed without any added distractions, but then there was a rumbling noise and—Cr-r-ack! As one of the pipes began to make weird noises, the perspiration broke out on the young man’s forehead. With the preacher orating in a sing-song voice, the organ playing and the pipes taking the place of drums, the finished result resembled the attempts of an amateurish jazz orchestra. If one had looked closely at the suave stranger, one would have discovered a haunted, shifty look in his hitherto cool gaze. He seemed to be trying to leave the church as unobstrusively as possible, but there was a stalwart group of ardent churchmen with folded arms and grim expressions standing in front of the door. But it was all in vain; escape was impossible. Just as the chauffeur was beginning to regain his composure, there was a decided “whish,” and a large sea-gull flew into the church, and soared majestically about the electrified hair of the minister. With an agonized yelp the stranger jumped to his feet exclaiming, “Forgive me! I’m sorry I did it! I took the money out of the collection box—me—Sigcr Thark ! Please get me out of this place—Please!” MARJORIE MAGEE, ’36. “HIGHBROW” “Say, Al. who arc those two attractive girls over there?” asked Billie pointing in the direction of a house which stood just off the road. “Oh, just summer residents here, replied Al, “but say, that blonde is not hard to look at.” “She’s all right, but take a look at the other. She’s my idea of what a girl really should look like.” The object of Billie’s remarks was indeed a very attractive looking girl. Tall, with a pose that made one look twice at her, she really looked like a goddess standing there in the sunlight. “Boy! I could go for her,” Billie said dream-ingly. “Brother, you haven’t got a chance. Her father is a retired banker. You have got to be a big shot to get next to her.” ‘‘Yes, I suppose one has to be,” Billie said sighing. “Say, they must be going rowing. They’ve got a pair of oars with them.” said Billie, “and they are coming this way! Why don’t you ask GI I I S mmdL WJ1H: 27

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JUNIOR CLASS—COMMERCIAL AND PRACTICAL ARTS DIVISION

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them if you can carry their oars to the boat? I’ll wait here for you.” The girls were approaching the spot where Billie and A1 were sitting. Their conversation could be heard. “I wonder if we’ll catch any fish this morning. Virginia” said the tall girl. “I don't think so, Barbara. We never do,” replied Virginia. “Say, Billie, Old Pal, you know their names now . Ask if they need any help.” A1 said jokingly. The girls were just passing them. Billie, with a brave attempt at nonchalance, suddenly said, “Pardon me, but do you girls need any help?” “Certainly, these oars are heavy and if you don’t mind,” answered Virginia. Billie in his most gallant manner hastened to relieve Virginia. Bashful A1 who waited patiently for Billie’s return was greeted by “Well. Al. old kid, how’s that?” “Oh. that was all right, but why didn’t you carry Barbara’s oar?” “What! Didn’t I carry her oar? Well I’ll be a dirty so—and so. I fixed it up anyway. You and I are going to take them fishing the day after tomorrow.” “I don’t believe you,” Al retorted. “Well, Barbara invited us. Didn’t I tell you she was my type of girl? Boy! I tell you she has blue eyes ! Ah ! Love! What!” Two days later Billie and Al were slowly walking to the summer colony. Billie was speaking. “Al, we’ll take them to the dance tonight. Afterwards we’ll go riding.” “Stop dreaming and wake up. There’s Virginia up ahead of us. Barbara isn’t with her though.” Al said. “She’s probably in the house,” replied Billie. “Hello, Virginia, where’s Barbara?” asked Billie. “She’s gone.” replied Virginia, “but she left this note for you.” Billie took the note and slowly opened it. “Come on, read it,” Al said poking him. Billie looked at the note and read: “I left yesterday for South America with Daddy. I’m going where there are gentlemen who will carry a lady’s oar when he so graciously asks her. Sorry I couldn’t go fishing with you. I am going to do some deep sea fishing down here. I’ll send you a picture of my first catch. If you are ever down this way call on me and I’ll let you row my boat. Barbara.” “So she’s just your type,” said Al sarcastically. “Well, she certainly knows the fish to pull in. She hooked you very easily.” THOMAS OLSTEAD, 12B WHERE? Sergeant Tom Cassidy nonchalantly picked up the telephone that had been ringing furiously, and muttered, “Police station, Ser-wa-what? Murder? Carl Rhend, fourteen Oak Street? O. K. Who are you?” Cassidy received no answer for the person on the other end of the wire had hastily hung up. “Hey, Mike, wake up!” Cassidy vociferated so loudly that Detective Mike O’Neil of the homicide bureau, who had been peacefully sleeping, awoke with a start As they rushed from the station, and jumped into a police car at the curb O’Neil panted: “Whats a matter, Sarge?” “Don’t know yet.” Cassidy replied. “Sounds like somebody’s going to get their throat cut at fourteen Oak Street. That’s where Carl Rhend, the famous diamond importer lives. Step on the gas and maybe we’ll be in at the death!” As the police car plunged down the street, two patrol cars, instructed by a short wave radio, proceeded to the same address. The car screamed towards its destination and came to a grinding stop before a three story GREEN dMrudL WDIOTTE- 28