Garfield Junior High School - Gleaner Yearbook (Berkeley, CA)

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You mean it was the kids who were here? asked the astonished officer when he saw the basket. It was, rephed the old man, his eyes dancing merrily. How do you account for the moan? asked Mike scratching his head. The children probably saw you and tried to frighten you with their moaning, answered the old man wisely. Well-er-a you won ' t mention this to anyone — not that it matters or anything, but you won ' t tell — will you? pleaded the embarrassed officer. Well I ' ll think about it, said Johann going out the door, his eyes twinkling merrily, and a Merry Christmas to you. Merry Christmas, stammered Mikke, twitching his fingers nerv- ously. Ruth Worthington, HigJo Nine. THE KID The kind of kid I am speaking about, is the species that is a general nuisance. Although both kinds are equally bad in that respect. This particular one came into this world of triatls and tribulations for baby goats, on April i, 1881; on a farm in the blue grass state of Kentucky. He was a surprise to all, but even poor Mamma Goat, who had that gentle reproachful look in her gray-blue eyes, did not know how much of a surprise he was going to turn out to be. From the moment he stood up on his thin wobbly legs and yawned right into our unsuspecting faces till the day of his most timely death, he was destined to be an unfailing source of employment for all of us. That morning after we had trooped in to breakfast and had discussed his arrival, we began to think about what we would name him. Mother said we had better wait awhile before decid- ing, but Bess said she wanted to name him Precious. This started an argument, for Bob wanted him to be called Buffalo Bill . My personal name for him was Butter, but the hired man showed more foresight when he said, Wal, I reckon I ' ll jist call him ' Nuisance ' . The first important episode I wish to call your attention to, was on the night of December 24, just after a heavy downpour of chiUing rain. This sweet little goat (call him what you will) emitted such a terrified bawl that the whole household turned out in full force. We emerged to find our water barrel half filled with a frightened, upside-down baby goat. We dragged him safely back to his mother and went wearily, and with that usual sinking feeling in our hearts, up the back stairs (in order to save the carpet on the front ones) . This was not the first time we had been startled to wakefulness by that same raucous voice. In the morning we found a bedraggled but greatly subdued young goat sleeping demurely by his mother ' s side, as if he were sorry but could not help it if he did see a vision of a mocking goat looking at him out of the rain barrel. This attitude did not last, hov ever, for as this young goat gentleman began to grow up, he wanted to show his mother what an enterprising

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MERRY CHRISTMAS! The great town clock struck nine as the watchmaker locked his little shop. He looked at his gold watch and smiled to himself as he saw that it kept perfect time with the town clock. Then shoving his hands deep down in his pockets, he started home. There were not many people on the streets at this time of night, for in Canada it gets dark quickly in the winter time. Johann Briggs whistled gaily as he made his way down a narrow side street. Why shouldn ' t he whistle? Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and Johann did not work then. A few minutes later a shadow crouched in the doorway of the clock shop. Someone was quietly working at the lock. The door opened and the shadow went in. Mike, the superstitious policeman who patrolled the eastern section of the town and who the people said couldn ' t catch anything but the measles, walked quickly to the shop. He soon walked away for surely no one would go into the clock shop. Everyone in the town loved Johann. People often stopped to talk to the little watchmaker with the long white beard and twinkly blue eyes, who had a kind word for everybody. Now the streets were completely deserted and a quiet hush settled over the town. Mike was making his final round when a low moan came from the watch shop. He paused and listened. Then he started to go in, but decided that he had better investigate. He put his hand on the door and it opened. Did Johann forget to lock the door? He stepped cau- tiously into the room. While groping about for a light switch, he touched the window shade which went up with a bang! The terrified policeman sprang to the door, but seeing it was only the shade, gained courage again. Suddenly something swept past him. He backed quickly against the wall at the same time pushing on the switch and flooding the room with light. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary the officer left the shop thinking that perhaps a cat had been causing all the commotion. The next morning Johann got up quite early and not having anything to do, decided to walk down to his shop to see if everything was all right. Upon entering the shop he noticed that the door to the great grandfather clock was ajar. When he opened the door, out fell a large package. The old man ' s eyes glistened as he untied the string. As the paper fell away a large basket containing a Christmas dinner and presents for Johann was revealed. The old watchmaker also knew that it was the school children who had left it there for him. They had given him a basket each year, but it had always been left on his door step. At first he thought they had forgotten him, but finding it in the shop was even a greater surprise. Do you know! cried Mike coming into the shop breathlessly a few minutes later just as Johann was going home, that someone was prowling around your shop last night and when I came near they all ran away! Come here, said Johann, and Fll show you what the night prowlers left.

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young person he could be. He immediately tried diving in the duck pond and so caused a commotion there. Almost before the ducks were out of the water, he was right after them, undoubtedly aiming to show off his ability as a duck hunter. On the hired man ' s advice, we decided to tame Butter (or any other aforementioned name) by making him go hungry. But before we knew it, our screen door had been butted in and nine-tenths of our larder was gone. What had not been eaten had been badly molested and even the canned goods were widely scattered about the kitchen and pantry. Mother decided that we would have the whole house redecorated because our Uncle Joshua, a missionary to China, was coming to pay us a visit. After we finished the painstaking job of painting, we went down to the village for the mail. During our absence an inquisitive black nose surrounded by half grown white whiskers, was thrust under the pantry screen. You can guess what followed that nose through the window. Well, when we returned, our sorrow and wrat h were great; but Uncle Joshua was destined to come to a country home freshly scrubbed even if not adorned with fresh paint. We took our Saturday night baths on Wednesday and went to bed in a flurry because Uncle Joshua was due on Thursday morning. He was joyously received by the whole farm yard whose curiosity was great since they hadn ' t seen a missionary in all their lives. The chickens sat on the gate post and the pigs peered shyly around the corner of the house. In order to show his enthusiasm, Butter decided to welcome him in his own quaint way. When Uncle Josh did arrive and had set his bags down, Butter thtrough friendly curiosity, silently and dexterously chewed the handles off. He then investigated the contents. But what funny tasting thing is this? thought Mr. Butter when he came across the shaving brush. And what is this stuff in a tube? Butter almost said aloud, for you see he was a most unusual goat, and when excited, was likely to act almost human. Sorry as I am to say it, his undue curiosity prompted by Uncle Joshua ' s arrival, was the undoing of Butter . One thing that his digestive tract could not stand, was the sticky brown stuff in the tube, which was insect paste. (Uncle Josh had brought it with him for an analysis by a chemist. ) And so ended the trials and tribulations of Butter . He was buried among the blooming buttercups. Dorothy Ayer, High Nine. THE HEAD BANKERS OF GARFIELD There are two Low Nine boys in charge of the banking. They are Marsden Manson and Eugene Mayer. Their duty is to help the banker from the American Trust Bank. You have probably seen these boys when they are delivering the bank envelopes to your room. Vyelaine Cunningham, Low Nine,