East High School - Quill Yearbook (Des Moines, IA)

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Effects of F rowns If you should frown, and I should frown While walking out together The happy folk about the town Would say The clouds are settling down In spite of pleasant weather. FRANCES PERKINS. The Early Bus With a push and a hearty shove we crowd ourselves into the street car. A few are lucky enough to get a seatg Come on, Lucky. If-Iold my books for me. That's a nice pal, frankly calls a friend. Do you think this street car will catch the early bus ? asks a painted, waxen flapper between the chaws of her favorite gu1n. 'fYes, I'm sure it will. I ran some in order to catch it, is the answer. With a stretch of many necks and a cheer from several voices, we see the bus standing waiting as we turn the corner. Like a center smash, we go from the street car to the already crowded bus. The bus is built to seat 'thirty-five, but the driver makes eighty his limit. ' Move on back there, Cheese! Well for gosh sakes, Mary, who can help it if your white socks get wiped on, calmly assures a young student to his closely pressed neighborg As we ride merrily along, one can hear various scraps of conversation. Ouch, somebody's pen is sticking my back. 'Tm standing like a button hook. Who has my history? Oh gee, I'surely did. get the Worst bawling out today I have ever had. Some one cries with pain. Who in the world has on a porcupine coat? Others almost die with laughter. That note was a scream. Say, big boy, hand over my handker- chief, come on, pass it over, chirps an angry teased girl. 4 As we make our way through the crowded aisle to the door, it re- minds one of a boa constrictor trying to swallow a fat cow. Witl1 a sigh of relief, we get off the bus and snatch from the windows our scattered belongings that are not fortunate enough to be stationary like a nose or an ear. , BEULAH Hour, '32. Time's Messengers Who bring the tidings that make time pass? Golden sand in an hour glass, The sun a-tossing its flaming head, And an orange moon when day has Hedg A robin, in spring, to tell he's back, A calendar's numbers of red and black, Little feathers of snow to show winter's here, And a tiny red leaf bringing autumn near,- We'll always know that the Past is past, For Time's messengers bring the news so fast. . ' MARGARET PECK, '31, Page Fourteen

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Us AIQDUND THE FIIQESIDQE The Open Fire P i Open fires have always attracted me. As a child I would sit hour after hour staring into my grandmotl1er's lireplace. The red and laven- der Hames seemed to enchant me. As I watched them flicker and leap, I became unconscious of all else. I was in fairyland. Love, romance, and adventure appeared to me in this wonderland of color. I imagined myself in strange lands seeing queer sights, or I was on the high seas lighting with pirates. Instead of just being a small lad with a great imagination, I was, in this fairyland, a prince leading great forces to light for righteousness, a king governing broad pleasant lands, a poet, or an inventor. How pleasant it was to sit before the fireplace while Granny told stories and the wind whistled wildly through the lofty pines. Great dreams unfolded before me as I listened to Granny's words. I saw the struggle man had made to raise himself out of barbarism. I saw the rise and fall of beautiful cities and great nations. The brightly colored pages of history's enormous book opened before my eyes as I gazed at the fire. People called me a dreamer, but I am sure they could not seed what I saw, as the flames of red, orange, blue, and green danced and llickered before my eyes. MARY GOLDBERG, '30. Mm. Recipe for Happiness jest happy as a blue bird, A-singin' blithe and gay, Oh, that's the life for anyone Who's happy all the day. Don't sit around all time an' mope, See how the sun's a-shinin'g An' watch the clouds go floatin' by jest like a lazy lamb. It doesn't pay to' sit an' cry, You're jest a-wastin' water. So tell your tear drops all goodby, An' 611 your heart with laughter. T'wi1l make a better man of you To say that you don't care. . An' as the sunshine dries up dew, Watch all your sorrows fly. MARGARET WILLEY, '30. Page' Thirteen

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e B1 Revenge is Sweet Undoubtedly he had been seriously wronged. He had merely climbed up on the roof of the summer-house to hear what would be said down be- low. lt was not his fault that the straw-thatched roof had broken in' and he had fallen through, disturbing an otherwise very pleasant meeting between Bess and her next best boy friend. To be sure, he did land on Mr. Childings' foot rather hard, but that was no excuse for Bess's insist- ing that his father should paddle him, and then make him stay in bed all the next morning. Bess said he had just spoiled everythingg she and Mr. Childlings were talking along nicely, when Jimmy came down through the roof so noisily and abruptly that Mr. Childings supposed for a second that the sky had fallen in. 'Course she would say that, because he came through just when action was at its highest. But he'd get even with her somehow or other, all he needed was time. The disaster did not have such a bad effect on Bess that she forgot to have a good time in the next few days. Oh, no! Bess was lively and kept things going wherever she was. In two days, everyone in the family but Jimmy had forgotten the incident. They were all too busy to .remember anything now. Bess was to have a lawn party that night, and everything had to be ready in time. Jimmy, somehow, could not be found that morning. The door to his room, however. which overlooked the side yard, was locked and queer noises were issuing from within. The general surmise was that Jimmy was monkeying with that use- less old ,searchlight of his again. VVell, let him 'amuse himself with it. He would only be in the way if he came downstairs. About noon Jimmy appeared. He ate his dinner in silence and then disappeared in the general direction of town. In half an hour he was back again. This time he wandered around the summer house and in a little while became very much interested in the chairs there. He was not bothered, for everyone was busy with Bessis affairsr He stayed in the summer house for about half an hour and then disappeared in the barn. E Wlieii jimmy went into the barn, he did not. as might be supposed, wish to get anything from the store of treasures in the loft, he went in for business. After crawling through devious dark passages and under- neath old boxes, so constructed as to form a tunnel, he arrived at the other side of the barn which was next to the neighbor's yard. Here he lifted back a board in the wall, and by. much puffing and twisting, man- aged to squeeze through and come out in the neighboring yard. He gave the gang whistle, and in a moment or two was joined by a red-haired, freckle-faced boy, whose real name was Bill, but who was Willia.111 Stuart Romney, according to his mother. V Hullo, Bill? Hullo. A Say, you still got that cannon cracker you' saved from the Fourth of july ? ' ' Sure Wl1at'll you take for it ?,' Nothin'. I wantto keep her. A 4 Page Fifteen