Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

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THE SENIOR MAGNET 7 was an impossibility to step on her toes. I managed however to disregard entirely the time of the music with this result.” “Oh! How originally you dance, Bob. I just love that syncopated step.” “Nothing marks the amateur dancer more than to slip on a turn. The next turn I made I threw one foot out so that by all rules I should have skidded beautifully. Did I slip? I did not. Some flapper like Marion probably felt lost without the wad of wrigglemint on which my toe had caught.” “After the ball we dropped into a restaurant where I pulled my coup d’etat by ordering chicken salad. “I just adore chicken salad and I haven’t had any for ages,” said Marion. “I reached for a glass of water.” Here Bob paused in his recital of woe. After due time I gently asked, “And how did you finally lose the dear little thing?” “Keep it under your hat, old man, but I want you to be best man. Sometime next June. You will, wont you?” “Of course I will and consider it an honor. Congratulations and all that.”

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6 THE SENIOR MAGNET stuck, and I was almost in the same fix. I used to think that I had a fair understanding of modern slang, usually being able to make out whatever the office boy tries to tell me; but the line of disconnected words that girl could talk was downright marvelous. I decided that, since Aunt Mae would have to bear with her all the time I was at work, it was up to me to take care of her in the evenings. I suggested that perhaps she was tired from her trip and would wish to retire early. Tired? Not she. The only time she got tired was on the morning after. That being the case, I took her to the theatre.” “The evening was a distinct novelty for me. I spent the intervals during which she was quiet enough for me to hear myself think, in trying to figure out how she got that way, and whether the rest of the crowd that looked about like her were really as bad off as she.” “One night wasn’t bad, but the second evening grew monotonous; and after three nights of it, her line was very much on my nerves.” “I came home early Thursday evening and as I was hanging up my coat and hat, I heard Marion and Aunt Mae talking in the next room. Neither had noticed my arrival, and I was unintentionally eavesdropping. Marion was speaking.” “Yeh, I really should beat it tomorrow, but Bob hasn’t proposed yet. I’ll have to stick around till he flops.” “I gathered from Aunt Mae’s reply that she thought the girl was joking. She hadn’t been out three evenings with Marion or she would have known better. I slammed a door to announce myself. “I determined after another desperate night, that although the Lord only knew how glad I would be when the girl left, Marion’s vanity would never be tickled by my proposing to her. Work fortunately being lax at the office the next day, I was trying to rest my head by glancing through a magazine. Suddenly 1 came upon advertisement which held an inspiration. The ad contained a sad story of a man who was not popular because of one thing. It ended with a trite sentence to the effect that the insidious thing about halatosis was that your own mother-in-law wouldn’t tell you about it. Now, unpopularity with a certain person was what I desired above all things. I started systematically through the magazine for other ideas on how not to be popular. I found some others I thought would do. You see I couldn’t make myself deliberately disagreeable to Marion while Aunt Mae was around, so I had to find some other way to get her to dislike me. That night we were to attend a ball for the benefit of one of Aunt Mae’s pet charities. I smoked some of the rankest cigars I could find and otherwise developed a fine case of halatosis. But the cigars gave me a headache so I stopped at a drugstore on the way to the ball and asked for a box of asperin. The clerk, making change for another customer with one hand, handed me a box with the other, and I swallowed a couple of the tablets as I hurried out of the store. As I was stepping into the car beside Marion, it occurred to me that those asperin tablets had tasted queer. I pulled the box out of my pocket and read a label extolling the virtues of “Breath of Spring Breath Purifiers.” We arrived at the ball. One of those ads I had read assured everyone that only graceful dancers could hope to achieve popularity. I intended to show Marion some of the worst dancing possible. I soon discovered that the girl followed so well that it

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8 THE SENIOR MAGNET A Day of Rest By Agnes Snyder. The click, click, click of Virginia Dunn’s typewriter was the onlv sound that broke the stillness of the office. The warm August sun beat mercilessly down on the roofs of the nearby buildings. Virginia looked up from her work. It was so warm, and she had so much work to do. She sighed. But such wras the life of a stenographer. She gazed idly out of the window and yawned sleepily; finally her head fell slowly and rested on the desk. At that instant the door opened and Tom Randolph walked in. “Say, Virginia, how about a little spin in the country? It’s so warm, and you’d enjoy the country.” “I’d love to, Tom, but look at all the work I have to do. What would Mr. Fleming say?” “It’s all right with him,” laughed Tom, “I saw him before I came here. He said, ‘Sure, go right ahead.’ ” Well, then wait ’till I powder my nose and I’ll be right with you.” Tom was Virginia’s fiance. The two had been engaged for nearly three years. Virginia had set the day for the wedding several times, but on each occasion had changed her mind and the wedding had been postponed. The two seated themselves in the little green roadster and were soon speeding toward the country. “Watch out for traffic cops” cautioned Virginia, “You’ll never be satisfied until you are arrested for speeding.” Tom laughed. “Wouldn’t that be a scandal ?” Virginia leaned her head back and breathed freely of the pure country air. How refreshing it was! “Where are we going?” she inquired as they came to the Evergreen road, “I suppose to the Roadside Inn as usual?” Tom did not answer, but instead of steering his car to the right when he camo to the country club, he continued to go straight ahead. “Where are you taking me?” asked Virginia, not in the least caring. “This isn’t the way to the Inn.” “Well, Virginia, I shall tell you. Just sit back like a nice little girl and listen attentively.” “You know, dear, we have come to no conclusion during the last year in regard to our wedding. You have been wearing the same old diamond for three years now, and I think it’s about time to wear a new’ ring, and besides”— “But Tom,” broke in Virginia, “you know I shall marry you in just a short time. Mr. Fleming hates to see me give up my position and”— “Position or no position—you know I want you. Virginia, and I can’t wait any longer. Just think of it! Three long years of waiting and no results. But the point is that I am going to marry you right now— this afternoon. That’s where we’re going now.” “Why Tom,” said Virginia, surprised at this new tone. “You needn’t be so excited over it, let’s go to the Inn.” “Inn nothing,” said Tom, “we’re going to be married. I have the ring here safe in my pocket.” His fiancee gasped . Could it be possible that this was the gentle Tom who had always before meekly agreed to postpone the wedding when she suggested it?