Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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BILLY’S MISTAKE NE—two—three—four—five—six—seven! sounded the grand- father clock, and presently from the kitchen mother called: “Billy—oh, Billy—it’s time you were up!” Billy turned over and sleepily rubbed his big blue eyes, feeling the need of some sort of a prop with wrhich to make them stay open. “Say, what day is this?” he asked himself. “What dreadful event is going to happen today?” The sight of his school books, reposing on his desk chair, and particularly that of a large geography book, served to refresh his memory. “Oh—the geography match,” he exclaimed. “Oh, how I wish I didn’t have to go to school. Well—I won’t go, that’s all. But, oh dear, mother won’t let me stay home just because Miss Clark is going to give a geography quiz. She won’t ever let me stay home unless I’m sick. Well, I’ll be sick today.” “Billy, are you up? I want you to go to the store before school. Billy, answer me!” There was no answer from above. So presently steps were heard ascending the stairs. The door was opened and mother stood amazed on the threshold. “Why, Billy, you’re not even up—and just the morning when I needed you, too.” “Oh, oh,” groaned Billy, tossing from one side to the other of his little white bed, “I’m so sick I don’t know what to do.” “Why, what is the matter? Why didn’t you call me? Do you feel very sick? Where is the pain?” Thus mother queried as she stroked the curly head. Poor Billy attempted to answer, but not knowing just how to pro- ceed, renewed his groaning and moaning. “Well,” said mother, “I guess you need a good dose of castor oil. Then if you’re not better, we’ll send for the doctor.” “Ugh,” thought Billy, “Castor oil! Anyway, that’s lots better than a geography match.” After the medicine had been administered, mother left him in order to prepare breakfast for the other members of her family. Then Billy very slyly crawled out of bed and tiptoed over to his desk, from which he took a large story book entitled “Pirates at Sea.” Next, he crawled back into bed and proceeded to enjoy himself with his book. He heard Page Eleven

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by melody from human lips? After solving this problem in his mind by quickly considering all facts of the case, he decided to act at once. Accordingly he clambered down from the safety of the oak tree and faced the bear, who sat licking his chops nearby. Thus he began his solo. Such melody rang forth through the forest as had never rung be- fore or will ever ring again. It was a melody which might be discussed freely by the public if the public had strong will power enough to listen to it; in fact it might be discussed too freely in another language (used mostly by men). When the professor finished, and gasped for breath, he saw a strange spectacle before him. Upon the grass lay two rattlesnakes lulled to sleep by his musical charm; nearby a wolf snored, resting his head against a tree trunk. In the brook fishes floated unconscious upon the water, and bullfrogs were stretched lazily upon the sand. All were asleep but the bear, who sat respectfully upon his hind legs nearby. Once more, the professor began, this time selecting opera for his melody. As he sang, his whole soul burst forth, likewise his lungs. When he had finished his masterpiece he looked down to see the snakes sneaking stealthily into the nearby grasses, the wolf slinking into the neighboring woods, the fishes hiding themselves among the rocks and the bullfrogs diving into the muddy depths of the brook. The bear alone sat motionless. The professor advanced slowly and touched him. The bear toppled over, still motionless upon the grass—he was dead! The sight dimmed, blackness appeared and then he awoke to find himself bending over a porch chair, which he had pushed off the porch. His wife declared he must be a crazy man because he had risen in his slumber and tried to sing in a queer voice. Upon retrieving his scattered senses, he imported to his wife that never would he eat two pieces of apple pie for dinner again. D. COLLESTER. UAAAAA A TXT Page Ten

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the others leave for school, heard the last bell ring, and then settled down with a sigh of content. “But what is that I smell? Hot muffins and fried ham, I’ll bet. I’m hungry, too.” “Mother,” he called, “I’m hungry. Please bring me something to eat.” Soon mother came in, bearing a tray which she placed within Billy’s reach. The tray contained a glass of milk and a plate upon which was a single slice of toast. “But, Mother,” cried the boy, “I want a real breakfast—hot muffins and the rest, like I eat every morning.” “Oh, no,” replied mother. “I don’t want your stomach upset now of all times.” The toast and milk speedily disappeared and mother took the tray away. Billy read on for a short time until the clock struck ten. “Ten o’clock,” sighed the little boy. “Now they are all lining up for the match and soon questions will be going back and forth at a great rate. Any- way, I won’t be there to fail.” At eleven he breathed a sigh of relief and ventured to get up and dress himself; the match was probably over. When Mrs. Blake saw her small son coming downstairs she said, “Oh, Billy, are you better, dear? I’m so glad. Sit right down here by the fire and if you stay in all day I guess you’ll be all right tomorrow.” “Oh, isn’t this an easy life,” thought Billy, when suddenly the tele- phone rang and Mrs. Blake, after listening an instant called, “Oh, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Anderson, but Billy isn’t well today and I don’t think it would wise to allow him to attend the party. Thank you just the same. Yes. Good-bye.” “Mother—Mother, what is it?” cried Billy in consternation. “Of course I can go to the party.” “No, dear. The party is this afternoon and I couldn’t think of letting you go where you would eat things which might bring back those ter- rible pains.” Poor Billy, with visions of the fancy cakes, candies and ice cream that he might have had, sat heavily down, resolving next time to locate his pain in another part of his body. ELINOR E. HANNA, ’22. Page Twelve