Cleveland High School - Beacon Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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He called the young woman the following morning, and she promised to come for Flip that evening. Schurz regretted having done this almost immediately after hanging up the receiver. He thought of how lonely he would be without his companion-how he should miss the spirited little pup. It was a long dreary day for him, and, when he came home, he had almost decided to tell Miss Hayes that she could not have his dog. But to have her come there and then to say thatihe had decided to keep Flip would be impossible. No, that would not do. She came early. The pup made a great fuss over her-he always had. On the evenings she came for lessons, he would bring her Schurz's slip- pers, the ball his master had bought for him, or even a cherished bone from some secluded corner. On this evening he dragged out Schurz's best hat. He came trotting up with it, the brim between his teeth, and deposited it at the feet of Miss Hayes. She picked him up and he began to lickher face, but when she carried him to the door he squirmed and twisted so in her arms that she was scarcely able to hold him. When he had worn. him- self out, he gazed beseechingly across her shoulder at Schurz. The man was heart-broken enough, but to see Flip in so helpless a position only added more to the misery of losing him. He went over to stroke the puppy's head and felt the warm little tongue on his hand. I'll take very good care of him, Miss Hayes was saying. Oh, by the way, what does he eat 'F' Why did she stand there talking! Why did she not take the dog and go! Anything, he answered distractedly. He likes puppy cakes and milk. Meat-feed him meat-and an occasional bone. I want to thank you again, Mr. Schurz-, she began. No, don't thank me-1'-d rather you wouldn't. His voice trembled. Poor Flip, poor puppy. Mr. Schurz caught a glimpse of the dog's eyes as she carried it down the stairs. They were wide and the expression in them was one of aston- ishment, one that said that he could not comprehend being treated so. Then they were gone, she and his dog, and he was alone. The week that followed was dull. The rooms seemed so large and empty, everything was so intolerably still. There were no torn mules, no mangled brushes, the welcoming bark that had greeted him on his return from the school was missing. All the new joy Schurz had found in life had vanished. It was a cold, rainy day, his first Sunday without Flip. He had been sitting gazing out the Window across the empty streets and watching the rain roll down the window pane. The lights were being turned on and from over in the northeast the great Lindbergh beacon was cutting through the mist. He had come to the conclusion that it was impossible for him to be without Flip. What did it matter though the pup chewed up all his brushes Page Thirteen

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one eye, the other was half-erect, but looped over at the top. He had long brown and white hair, and when his tail came out of its hiding place, it curled in a spiral over his back and was rather bushy. Schurz carried the dog home. He fed it and fixed a bed for it with some old blankets he had. The pup was thin and ate the food that was offered him voraciously, but he was not content to lie down and sleepg he went about exploring every corner of his new home. U Schurz was trying to think of a name for him. There were all those worn-out ones like Sport and Beauty, but he did not want those. Besides, although Sport might have fitted the pup, Beauty was no name for him- he was far from being beautiful. Watching him as he trotted back and forth through the rooms with that air of ownership which dogs assume, Schurz laughed and thought how flippantly he treated everything, how he sniffed at the few canvases that were stacked against the wall, or how he put his forepaws on the sill of the window and looked out. There could be only one name for him. Something suggestive of that half-interest, half- scorn he had for all things. Flippant was the word to describe him, but one could not call a dog Flippant. He decided to cut it down to Flip and found himself quite satisfied with the name. In the following month, Henry Schurz learned several things about Flip. That the dog had a disagreeable habit of tearing to pieces anything within his reach, from newspapers to bed-room slippers and once even a chintz covering from the studio-couch. These things were nothing, how- ever, to what happened one eventful December day. It had snowed and the wind was extremely bitter, whirling the pow- dered snow in eddies across the side-walks. Schurz was returning from the school. His face was stiff with cold and his hands felt numb. He was glad to turn into his doorway and to get upstairs, out of the frigid world. When he opened the door, a horrifying sight met his eyes. In his haste to get out on time that morning he had carelessly left several of his smaller canvases and his best brushes on the couch. Now they lay in the middle of the floor, the canvases tattered into shreds, the brushes chewed until they had lost all resemblance to their original state. And above all there sat Flip, his tail wagging hysterically, looking devilishly proud with his head held high and with one ear almost entirely erect. Schurz collapsed into a chair and gazed at the ruin that lay before him. Flip came over and put his head into his master's lap. Poor fellow, he was hardly to blame-he was only a pup, thought Schurz. It was his own fault for having left his belongings where the dog could get them. But after all, an artist's studio was no place for a frisky pup. He wondered if that private pupil of his, she who had liked Flip so much, would still Want him. He would have a good home and he would never be left alone all day. It would be lonesome without him, but it was best that the dog should go. Page Twelve

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l u l Q l E E F i or ripped all his canvases to strips? One could hardly find any canvas or any brush that could fill the place of a faithful friend. Someone had left the street-door open 3 he could feel the draft from it. The room was becoming cold. Several times he decided to go down and close it, but each time he found it too diflicult to gather enough energy to do so. Suddenly he was awakened from his stupor by a scratching sound out- side. Schurz went slowly to the door. He opened it just a crack, but as he did so it was given a mighty thrust, and something small streaked past him into the room. It was Flip. Around and around the room he went, yapping and upsetting every- thing in his path. Then he came back to Schurz and danced around his feet, rubbing his snout against the man's leg and barking into his face. Flip, cried Schurz, good old Flip. And he picked him up and held his face close to that of the little dog. Flip's tongue was caressing his cheek, his ears, his neck. His tail was beating wildly against his master's chest. Good old Flip, sobbed the man, you've come back to me. 2... X f 0 ZW X wl- 'aw i f Page F'ozwteen.