Clifton High School - Rotunda Yearbook (Clifton, NJ)

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A PENNY A WORD OT unlike the drowning person who so eagerly clutches at a straw, Bob, with a quick nervous grasp, clutched the tele- gram and tore it open. So eagerly did he absorb its con- tents that his eyes fairly bulged. The words were so black and cold, and yet—so full of meaning. It read thus: “Not another cent—allowance cut off. Father.” Impatient, and in a hopelessly desperate frame of mind, Bob nerv- ously paced the floor. A hundred jumbled thoughts flashed through his mind. Mr. Volstead’s hoarse demanding threat—$25 spot cash, by six o’clock, or I notify your father. Then what? Expulsion from college, just for thoughtless extravagance—disgrace, and what not. Another monotonous repetition of hand delving into pocket, but always with the same unmistakable result. Not a cent did he possess. The clock struck four. Two hours remained. A knock on the door brought him to his senses—awakened him, from his orgy of hideous thoughts. “Come in!” Doris Breamer, his fascinating cousin, entered the room. “How are you, Bob?” “Hello, Doris. This is surely a pleasant surprise.” “I’m on my way to meet mother. She wants you to come for dinner with us,” was her explanation. “Sorry”—Bob remembered his predicament—“But I have something on for tonight.” Her unexpected appearance—previous conversations with the fellows —and then almost instantaneously, Bob was struck with an idea. Her presence gave him courage, and like a dying spark kindling into fire, hope seized him. She would have him—and she would. How? Borrow money from her? No. How then? Indirectly. Would she know? Never. Had not the fellows agreed to give Bob five dollars for the privilege of being able to speak to Doris for an hour? Would they keep their promises? Willingly. Did not the opportunity offer itself now, and did he not urgently need the money? All these thoughts flashed through his mind. “Excuse me for half a minute, Doris. Have to phone a friend— Page Nineteen

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THE CULPRIT HIS way and that, through the maze of dark city streets, a stealthy figure crept. Unmindful of the dreary rain drizz- ling and dripping about ths unsheltered form, and oozing forth from the low, unprotected boots, the figure furtively darted along, with cap pulled to the eye-brows, and coat collar upturned, leaving only the furtive black eyes visible. Both hands nervously clutched a dark package hidden beneath the dampened coat while its owner crept cautiously in the shadow of the darkened buildings. Hesitating and wary, the figure emerged to a more frequented thor- oughfare, drew a short sigh of relief, and resumed its stealthy way, darting hurriedly along with face averted from the gaze of the passing- throng. '‘Oh, Peggy! Wait!” cried a voice near at hand. With a low, startled cry at the sound of the name, the girl clutched her package more frantically than ever, and sped on down a side street, turned into another one, dashed up a marble stairway, into a spacious hallway, up another stairway, and, with a breathless cry, slammed and locked the door of her own room. The package dropped unheeded to the floor while the girl threw her drenched and breathless self upon the spotless bed. At last, with a sigh of mingled relief, dread, and curiosity, she jumped up, snatched off her small cap, and, with eyes wide, viewed her- self in the mirror. How unfamiliar the reflection! The fearful expres sion in the brown eyes soon faded before a mischievous twinkle, and changed to a hearty laugh when the girl glanced down at the tell-tale package out of which peeped a beautiful silken-? Even as she looked, a picture came before her eyes—a picture of her mother’s utter horror when she should see her daughter—minus the long black------? Again the girl laughed—laughed wildly, exultantly, at—her bobbed hair! ELEANOR WOODRUFF, ’22. Page Eighteen

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very urgent.” So saying, Bob entered an adjoining room. A second later he returned, triumphant, his face wrinkled with smiles. Fifteen minutes later a shuffling of feet was heard outside the door. Someone knocked. “Come in!” Five chaps eagerly entered. On seeing Doris, they made an ineffec- tual attempt to leave. “Easy, fellows. I want you to meet a cousin of mine.” The pleasant procedure of introduction over, the fellows demanded that Bob solve a problem in math for them. For an hour Bob bluffed through an imaginary problem. For an hour the others laughed, and chatted. “I’ll have to be moving. Good-bye, Bob. Good-bye, boys.” At this farewell greeting, five chaps as if suddenly pricked with needles sprang up, and asked for permission to escort her home. “Sorry, boys, but I’ve got to meet mother.” It was now 5:20. Forty more minutes remained in which to settle his debt. As each fellow left, he tendered Bob a five dollar bill. “Oh! what a wonderful girl she is!” was the single unanimous shout of satisfaction. Bob pinched himself unmercifully. Ouch! It hurts. No, he wasn’t dreaming. Triumphantly, he counted the bills—five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty-five. LEWIS RICHMOND, ’23. Page Twenty