Cass City High School - Perannos Yearbook (Cass City, MI)

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Marlew wasn't the only girl who had scandalously broken the sacred law. Six of the prettiest and liveliest girls from Dept. D were gone--gone! But where? Goodness only knew! What shall I do? If Miss Carew ever hears of this-oh dear! I just must find those wicked girls ! Flinging a warm shawl about her, she went out into the night. Her steps, Argus- directed, led straight to that big white gate! But stay! What tell-tale object lies just beyond the gate to tempt her farther? Eagerly she clambered over the gate and there, glistening like a thousand rare gems in the flickering moonlight, was a bursted sack of gleaming white sugar! Sugar! Aha! Perhaps, after all, the old owl isn't alone in his supreme wisdom. Silently, fleetly, Miss Brock speeds down the winding road, past the dark sombre houses whose slumbering inhabitants little dream that both Oldman's and Miss Carew's Academies are this very night disgraced forever by the rash merrymaking of twelve gay students! On she goes-and on. Mercy upon us! Would she never get there? At last she comes to the experiment building and sure enough, a bold, unshadcd light streams cheerily from a cellar window! Silently she creeps closer and there in the bare recess of the cellar twelve eager young faces bend over a chafing dish and the odor that fills the air is the odor of fudge. The crimson glow of disapproval is obvious on Miss Brock's face and an instant later she has opened the inner door and is standing in all the fierceness of her authoritative person before the guilty culprits. Oh, mercy I Disclosure, expulsion and disgrace confront each and every one of the fugitive fudge-makers! Helena Lane screamed, Jessie Clark fainted and Billey Grands, in his confusion, ran right into the very arms of Miss Brock! Oh, please Miss Brock, you won't report us to Miss Carew? We just- If I do, I lose my position for not bolting that cellar door,-you ought to get a severe scolding though, but in scolding a bunch like this-Oh! What's the use? That night for rather morningj pretty Betty Marlew slept with a queer looking yellow envelope under her pillow and dreamed of a far away land that, though in the war zone, held the realization of a long cherished hope-a dream of a dark, hungry sea and a lone steamer plowing its way through dense fog and mist but always just ahead was a bright, inextinguishable light. at at ak is ak Scene: Western British Coast. Two long weeks have lagged wearily by and on the British coast all remains unchanged, yes-even the wind which is still bleak and westerly. Yankee sits on the favorite box, idly clicking his boots together and racking his brain for something funny to say but with slender hopes of ever developing a turn for conversation in Bolt, who paces the frozen strand with that same restless, ill-at-ease step. Nothing has happened- nothing, it seems, ever will, only blood-curdling war rumors and awful, purpose-blunting suspense. Oh, thought Yankee, if a German Zeppelin

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Miss Brock, in charge of the Domestic Science branch at Miss Carolina Carew's Academy for Young Ladies, emerged from the special experiment building after many tediously repeated experiments with a new salad fad of which she had heard Betty Marlew speak, and being as usual too tired to go to the rear of the building to fasten a door leading to the cellar which she remembered had been unbolted for at least two weeks fdespite Miss Carewfs severity concerning unbolted doorsl and being convinced that the cellar really contained nothing covetable anyway, Walked briskly away towards the Academy which, together with Olds- man College for young men, was nearly a quarter of a mile distant. When the ponderous oak door swung shut behind her all was still in the vicinity. It is late. Unheeded the soft moonbeams play at hide and seek among the leafless twigs of the shadowy hedge and the old Academy owl, laboriously tamed by Miss Carew herself, surveys with a proud eye, the vast domain over which he now reigns supreme from the dark intricacy of his favorite elm. But list! What group of darkly clad figures descend the side stairs of the Academy and glide noiselessly across the extensive lawn? Ay! And look again! Where another group steal from out the brooding darkness surrounding Oldsman and silently move to the big white gate to meet the culprits from the Academy! Well done, very well indeed! The Academy figures are all safely over the white gate and two by two they glide silently down the dimly lighted road into the dead of night. But, if you please, is it not a serious misdemeanor-ay, an unpar- donable crime for one of Miss Carew's girls to be found out of her private dormitory after 9:00 P. M.? Well, rather! The great owl sees but holds his peace. Ah, yes, but they are very young ! And is he not a wise old fellow? An hour later Miss Brock looked quickly up from the note-book in which she was making the day's last entry. Lin-n-ng-a-ling 1 The door-bell at that hour! What could it mean Y She hurried down the long corridor, reverberating with the shrill echo, turned the key in the lock and fearlessly opened wide the door. A special wireless for Miss Betty Marlew. Just arrived-from Europe. No answer required-fee paid. Good night. He was gone. Miss Brock stared at the big yellow envelope in sheer amazement. From England! What can it be? I must give it to Betty at once although it is a perfect shame to waken the child I She felt her way carefully flest she disturb the slumbering girlsl to Betty's door and inserted her pocket key, entered, to find-the room deserted! What? Betty Marlow not in her room at midnight? Impossible! Why, it meant disgrace for life! The spotless reputation of the Academy was ruined forever-but where could she be? In a fit of excited frenzy Miss Brock soon found, to her uncomprehendable amazement, that Betty

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or something would only appear! This suspense, this expectation, is maddening! Say, Yankee, I left some important papers open on my trunk at the camp, would you mind bringing them? The camp was nearly two miles distant, but Yankee was off on the run. For several moments Balt continued his everlasting walk without interruption, when suddenly, just as the echo of Yankee's footfalls died into nothingness, he thought he heard a queer whistle. Instinctively raising his spy-glass and switching on the electric attachment, a gleam of yellow light pierced through the darkness and revealed, though dim in the distance, what Bolt knew to be the outline of a ship. The dismal sky, crowded with clouds, oHered no assistance and with the petty glare from his glass, Bolt could only see that the ship was coming nearer and nearer-probably bound for Liverpool-but he could not see the Hag. His challenge, Who goes? Friend or foe ? rang through his dazed brain and his hand trembled violently. What was this strange emotion- still he watched and still the ship came on. Now it was quite near-so near indeed that as Bolt peered through the darkness he could see, by the aid of his powerful glass, that the flag was wound around the pole so that its colors were indistinguishable. Anxiously, expectantly he waited some clue, some sign by which to tell the nationality of the steamer, but none was given. Now, he saw distinctly. The steamer was sailing straight for Liver- pool and would soon be out of reach. He must hurry. Soon he was at the wireless station, and way up in the funny looking building, he dictated his war challenge which sang out across the dark Atlantic. Who goes? Friend or foe ? They waited-the operator, anxiously-Bolt, with every nerve tense, but no answer came and when the message was repeated, still no reply. Bolt was nearly frantic. Again, again! he whispered thickly and once more the sharp, startled cry rang out across the water. Friend or foe ? But no response, all was still as death. Then snatching up the operator's glass, Bolt saw, and his face turned livid at the sight, that the flag was at half mast! A flag at half mast in the war zone? Who dares! Cowardly knaves! As if that couldn't be seen were it wound around the pole a dozen times! Down the stairs and over the ground he sped, seized the dozing gun-man by the collar and shook him violently! Wake up man, in God's name! That ship is sneaking colors at half mast and is sailing due for Liverpool! She may be a German cruiser in disguise-she must be stepped! The sleepy gun-man rubbed his eyes hard and blinked up stupidly into Bolt's face but the look he found there brought him down to earth with a merciless crash. He fumbled excitedly for a cannon ball and at last produced a small one at sight of which Bolt roared like one insane, Bigger -man, bigger ! Then with a terrible oath, You'll give the pass port or