Catholic Central High School - Banner Yearbook (Fort Madison, IA)

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N frantic. Why had she gone to that shallow, old party the other night? And then a temptation came to her. Something whisperedin her ear: Why dont you copy that poem out of that old newspaper you found in the attic the oth- er day? Dorothy tried to put the wicked thought aside, but it would not go. So in sheer desperation, she got the newspaper. My, how dark it is up here! exclaimed Dorothy. Oooh, what was that noise? I'm going to hurry. Finally after rummaging around, she found what she was looking for, and with many a glance backward, she hurried down the stairs. It was on the Commencement night that the winner of the prize was to be announced. The school was in a flurry of excitement. It seemed as though the air itself whispered about the great event. Girls in demure gray college gown and cap, their faces flushed with excitement, sat on the stage. Restlessly they moved from one position to the other, and though the boys too, were equally excited, they were trying hard not to show it. The auditorium was filled to its utmost capacity. Mothers, fathers, relations, friends, and teachers, it seemed the whole town was there. The program progressed, the diplomas were awarded, and then Mr. Alcott arose with proper dignity and went to the center of the stage. I take great pleasure this evening, my friends, in announcing to you the winner of the much talked of prize. Although there were numerous praiseworthy entries, the judges find that the most remarkable literary specimen was the poem,-the grad- uates shifted, the audience leaned forward eagerly-a sweet summer breeze from some whispering tree blew in through the open window and cooled Mary's fev- erish forehead-entitled To an Autumn Leaf, by Miss Mary Fulley. The hall rang with applause. Mary gasped. Ralph Fowler looked at first a little disappointed, and then he too broke into applause. But Dorothy, poor Dorothy, who had sold her selfrespect, her honor for a forged poem, and then didn't win! Mary rose in obedience to a common summons, and in a trem- bling voice uttered her thanks to Mr. Alcott, and to the audience. But what was Mr. Winly saying? And Mr. Gordan James accepts with great pleasure this young lady's poem. Another storm of handclapping. Both Dorothy and Mary sat with bowed heads, one with a light, happy heart, the other with a heavy cumbrous feeling clutching at her very soul. -ELLA BUCKMAN, '31. FORTY-NINE

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DON T PUT OFF UNTIL TOMORROW WHAT YOU CAN DO TODAY You Mary, Mary wait a minute! Mary Fulley glanced around and saw her schoolrnate Dorothy Vic hurrying to catch up with her. Mary and Dorothy were not special friends, but then it is much pleasanter to have a companion to talk to, and Mary being a sweet girl, stopped to wait. Did you hear the latest news?,' Dorothy panted as she reached Mary's side, and not waiting for an answer, rushed on. Mr. Alcott, the millionaire, has offered a five hundred dollar prize to the one who submits the best poem, on or before May 29th, and you know, they say too, that Gordan James, the editor of the 'Adelphia,' is surprisingly interested. Perhaps he will publish it in his magazine, if it is up to his standard. I suppose you will try for it, won't you? I know I certainly will. After this flood of conversation on the part of Dorothy, the two reached the Central High, and were swallowed up in the mass of knowledge seekers. So Mary did not have time to answer Dorothy's question. But in her mind she re- solved she would try. VVhile these two girls are in school studying Latin and what not, I shall sit on the steps of the main entrance and soliloquize on their respective characters. Mary was, what one would call, a typical American girl, a lover of sports, and the great out-of-doors, and yet interested in music, art and literature, es- pecially in literature. Always since she had put behind her her dolls and play- things, had she been known for her fondness for composition. She had al- ready entered upon her last year in high school, and had established many friends by her winning disposition and true blue character. Dorothy, too, had literary ability, but was of a more sophisticated nature, and she was I1Of so fond of sports such as basketball, tennis, or the like, for fcar of mussing her skirts, or jarring the powder off her nose. Still, all in all, Dorothy had a very likeable character, and was quickly recognized as a leader in class activities. Though scores of other competitors had entered from C. C. H., it was gen- erally agreed upon that the outcome of the race was somewhere between Mary, Dorothy and Ralph Fowler, the latter another budding genius. That evening after Mary had finished sweeping the small kitchen of the Fulley home, she sat down in earliest to write her poem. She racked her brain for hours and at last succeeded in getting a goodly amount of inspiration. There- fore she remained up till midnight, to write all her thoughts on paper. After weeks and weeks of writing and rewriting, scratching and putting down, Mary had a lovely thing called, To an Autumn Leaf ready to hand to the Principal. With Dorothy it was different. Night after night she had sat down at her desk, with very good intentions. Then she would suddenly remember some- thing she just had to do and, of course, she could not write. Or the phone would ring, and she would rush off in consequence to an evening's enjoyment. Accordingly, the finger on the Almanac pointed to May 27th, and Dorothy was FORTY-EIGHT

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