Fairhaven High School - Huttlestonian Yearbook (Fairhaven, MA)

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22 THE HUTTLESTONIAN MURDOCK PHONES, RADIO DETECTIVE I entered the room by the usual way; that is, the doorway, after first beating a solo upon the panels of the door. I came in urgent summons from Murdock Phones. Once in the room I was completely lost in a cloud of vapor. “Ah!” thought I, at first. “Is this one of the fogs from his favorite London?” But nay. Murdock came to my rescue and piloted me safely through the vaporous obstruction which was nothing more than a smoke screen laid by the long pipe protruding from Murdock’s mouth and a black cigar that dangled from the lips of his visitor, probably a client. “Welcome, Watson,” said Murdock, scooping me into a chair. “Glad you came. I see that you stayed at home and dined on sar¬ dines instead of going to the restaurant, last night.” “Who informed you of all that?” “No one. I can see for myself. Just a simple train of deduction. You have broken your thumb-nail. Most unusual thing for a quiet man like you to do. You most likely did it in opening your pocket knife. Now, Watson, yours is always well oiled, so the one that broke your nail must be stiff and new. “Something, therefore, must be wrong with the old knife to cause you to need a new one. Lost? No, you are too careful. Broken? Probably, and in opening a can. Of tomatoes? No. A sardine can, the most obstinate of all cans. You would of course eat the sardines at home.” “Excellent!” I cried. “Excellent! But why did I not eat at the restaurant?” “That’s more difficult,” said he, thoughtfully studying my physi¬ ognomy. “I should say it was because the restaurant had previously served you a bad and odorous egg.” “Quite true!” I admitted. “How ever did you deduce it?” “Oh, simply enough. When you came in, I noticed you were pale and nervous. I concluded that you had been shell-shocked.” Murdock’s visitor evidently wanted to speak, for he was making some weird guttural sounds. It may have been that he had swal¬ lowed his cigar during Murdock’s amazing deduction. I now saw

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THE HUTTLESTONIAN 21 Picture in your mind ' s eye two male members of our faculty lying- side by side on the floor, lost to sight under a large blanket, while the rest of the faculty circles about them in solemn processions ! The party at Mr. Dickey’s home was jolly from the moment we got inside the door, till the time we bade wee Mary a reluctant farewell, some hours later. It marked the oc¬ casion of our one social get-together so far this year, and school-talk was absolutely taboo. A short time ago, a teacher’s in¬ stitute for all Fairhaven teachers was held one afternoon at the High School. Interesting addresses and discussions were carried on in all parts of the building. One especially interesting talk was given before the High School teachers by the Dean of Girls of the Taunton High School. Also one Friday, we all attended a Bristol County Teachers’ Convention in Fall River, and had a day full of inspiration and dis¬ cussion of teachers’ problems. Several hundred school-teachers, singing lustily in a large theatre, are worth going far to hear. Were you to peek into the gymnasium at a certain hour on a certain afternoon each week, you would be amazed—or would you?— to see some of our dignified teachers performing the steps of an Irish jig, at a speed of about forty miles an hour. Ask any one of them and they will tell you that folk-dancing is their favorite indoor sport! HELEN F. NORTHUP, Instructor.

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THE HUTTLESTONIAN 23 that this man was stout, very stout, so stout in fact that he appeared to be all hills and no valleys. Murdock came to his rescue: “Mr. Lareau, who is the pro¬ prietor of the Near-Yeast Restaurant, has been so kind as to dis¬ cover a mystery. Some time ago, Mr. Lareau patented a most original idea. He met, however, much opposition from some un¬ known enemy. His plan was to broadcast by radio, delicious odors and smells of things that are cooked in his restaurant. Besides being a delightful recreation, it advertises his eating-place. Re¬ cently, some one, possibly this same enemy, has been causing serious interference.” He paused. “That, Watson, is the problem. As a step towards solution, let us examine this interference at first-hand.” Turning to his wonderful expec-to-dyne receiving set, he struck a match and lit the lights inside. He then wound the set up by some knobs on front. Soon a voice within the hour announced: “This is station C-A-F-E of the Near-Yeast Restaurant. We are about to broadcast the grand opera ‘The Baker of Seville.’ We are sure that all our friends will agree that this grand opera is mag¬ nificent.” Then began a delightful overture of soupy smells followed by choruses, arias, and concerted music consisting of the odors of heated canines, Irish grapes, et cetera. We had just begun to enjoy ourselves when a sickly, thickish, greenish and odious smell gradually pervaded the room. Lareau and I immediately stopped up our nostrils, but Murdock sniffed the atmosphere with the air of a connoisseur. After a short time spent in thought he arose from his chair and obtained from a dark recess of the room, an iceless refrigerator and an ice-cream freezer. He connected this apparatus in series with the radio set and began to turn the freezer’s crank. The odor was immediately frozen into chunks of what we soon recognized were limberger cheese. “How derrible!” said I, my speech greatly affected by the fierceness with which I hung on to my nose. “O, this is very delicate-smelling compared to some cheeses I have sniffed,” said Murdock. “In fact, it is so delicate as to lead me to believe it came from a delicatessen.”