Gordon Bell High School - Purple and Gold Yearbook (Winnipeg, Manitoba Canada)

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54 GORDON BELL HIGH SCHOOL into its yawning mouth. This he proceeded to do, but not without assuring himself of its destruction, with the aid of a lighted match. As the embers of the discarded clothes were dying out, he distinctly heard a scratching sound in one of the other rooms. Somewhere in the house a window was being opened, but where, he knew not. And now, startled and thoroughly worried, “Happy” walked silently into the main hall and stood in waiting for the visitor. The noise which was heard by Mr. Madigan was none other than the entry of Reginald Allington-Smith, another gentleman with taking ways. Reginald considered himself a handsome and dashing chevalier of the Robin Hood type, robbing from the rich and giving to the poor. The one flaw in Reggie’s idea of likening himself to that historical character was his view that the poor meant Allington-Smith, and that to him only should be given. The gallant Reginald was dressed in his customary smart business suit, with a carnation in his button¬ hole and a soft grey felt hat upon his head. He stood quietly in the study of the Waverley Mansion, and then for a brief second, proceeded slowly along the As Mr. Madigan came forward to meet the invader, Mr. Allington-Smith came to the door of the study and stepped boldly into the hall. There followed two resounding thumps, accompanied by two agonized grunts as Messrs. Alling¬ ton-Smith and Madigan sat down heavily on the floor, propelled by the force of their collision. The two sat and glared at each other through the darkness, both breathing heavily. Mr. Madigan was the first to recover and regain his feet He quickly decided upon a plan for the frustration and immediate removal of this porch-climber from his rightful “game.” The porch-climber, however, was not easily beaten, and he too formed a plan for the speedy exit of his ad¬ versary. As the brilliant “Happy” flashed on the lights with a dignified “Humph!” Reginald surprised that individual by using the very words which Mr. Madigan himself had intended to use. “Why .... why,” he said thunderously, “what are you doing in my house?” “Your house?” exploded the enraged “Happy,” “this is my house!” “Why man you’re crazy,” vehemently declared Reginald, “I am Sir James Waverley, and this is my house.” As he said this he -drew himself up to his full regal height of five feet three and one-half inches. This show of braggadocio did not deter the determined Mr. Madigan from his .purpose. He had the chances of some good “swag” and he was not going to lose them through any meddling sneak-thief such as this insignificant runt. He, in turn, stretched himself and puffed out his chest, sixty-six inches of sham indignation and bluff. “I’ll call the police and have you arrested if you don’t get out of my house,” he roared at the now doubtful Mr. Allington-Smith. The bluffer made no motions to carry out his threat and Reggie quickly regained his composure. Hadn’t he read that Mr. James Waverley was vacationing in England? Somehow he knew that this man was just a low-bred cat burglar. “Well,” he said haughtily, “ the fact that my house has been broken into by a burglar will not stop me from having my midnight snack.” He thought that this nonchalance on his part would show his opponent that Reginald Alling¬ ton-Smith was by far the smarter of the two, and walking into the kitchen, feeling as important as possible under the circumstances, he began searching for the light switch. He managed to find it only after journeying the length of the kitchen on the wrong side of the doorway. His glaring error filled him with uncertainty and Mr. Madigan with confidence. “I think I’ll have a chop tonight. Would you mind joining me, sir?” Reginald felt very humiliated at the idea of addressing such an inferior being as “sir.” However, he felt that he simply must do it to keep up his lordly manners in his masquerade as Sir James Waverley, and with these words he strolled non¬ chalantly to the frigidaire and opened one of its many doors. “Hang it all!” thought he, “why must it hatre been the wrong one?” Not to be outdone Mr. Madigan staked all on his luck and sprang forward. “This is the door,” he said with assurance. And so it was. Again Mr Allington-Smith began to have his doubts.

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GORDON BELL HIGH SCHOOL It Happened Like This By STAFFORD WILSON yejVIDNIGHT. The huge Waverley Mansion stood dark and forbidding at ft I I the very end of the fashionable Willow Park Drive. It had been reported in the local paper two days previously that its owner, Sir James Waverley, and his family, had left for a six months’ vacation in England; and now the splendid old mansion stood silent and spectre-like amid its thickly wooded grounds. The huge elms and oaks waved silently in the cool night air, while the mist settled like a protective blanket over the empty walks and their orna¬ mental shrubs and flower beds. Suddenly the bushes on the north side of the house moved startlingly. From above a small bush was seen what at first appeared to be a crudely colored half-moon. Closer examination, however, proved it to be no such exalted thing, but merely the patched seat of the working trousers of “Happy” Madigan, who was at the time creeping stealthily towards the mansion. Now, “Happy” Madigan was a gentleman at heart, and a good Samaritan in his own way. For instance, if anyone had any excess valuables lying around the house, “Happy” would obligingly see that they were put in a safe place— to his own commercial advantage. There were several drawbacks in “Happy’s” helpfulness, and one of them was the fact that most of the valuables put away were wanted, and not really excess at all. There was also the fact that “Happy” made all the profit on the riddance of these valuables. At the present moment the gracious Mr. Madigan was busily engaged in attempting to do the owner of the great house a favor, in the form of some relief work on the famed Waverley family jewels. He was now doing his best to gain access to the house without attracting the attention of the bothersome minions of the law. The latter had too often put a crimp into the plans of the obliging gentleman, and had caused him to have his hair cropped and to undergo a long rest before resuming his helpful operations. In his hand Mr. Madigan carried a small black bag, wherein he kept his surgical instruments, used for oper ating on obstinate and unyielding windows. The half-moon portion of ' ' Happy’s” pants, the huge black and white patch which covered nearly the whole of the seat of his nether garment acted, un¬ known to him, as a glaring beacon. Cautiously the intruder started for the mansion on his hands and knees through the shrubbery, until at last he reached his destination—the scullery window. Here there was a slight pause while the window was forced open with the aid of a jimmie. The bag was set on the sill and the checkered beacon was again outlined in the black night, followed by “Happy’s” legs as he crawled through the small aperture. The good Samaritan landed with a slight thump in a heap upon the floor, and having adjusted him¬ self, lowered the bag to the floor and cautiously shut the window. He began a little reconnoitering of his own. Walking hurriedly through the huge kitchen to what appeared to be the door of the hall leading to the main dining-room, he was pulled up sharply as he ran smack into solid wall in the breakfast room. He quickly recovered, however, and by reversing his direction managed to reach the door for which he was searching. As he entered the large dining-room, his blood froze and his knees felt weak and shaky. There, in a chair, sat someone in a full dress suit! For a second, “Happy” could not move. He stood and stared at the black and white object in the chair until, growing a little bolder, he took a few steps forward. From his new position he saw, to his immense relief, nothing more dangerous than a full dress suit thrown carelessly across the back of a chair. He took off his oddly-matched and patched attire, flung it on the floor and donned the classical suit which seemed to have been specially provided to replace his shabby garments. Mr. Madigan glanced disdainfully at his old apparel lying in disgrace upon the floor, and picking it up, he continued his tour of inspection of the ground floor of the mansion. When he came to the luxurious drawing-room, with all its beautiful furnishings, the fireplace attracted his attention. It inspired him with a desire to cast the old suit, beacon and all,

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GORDON BELL HIGH SCHOOL 55 I’ll get a frying pan for you,” offered “Happy” as he strolled over to the scullery and opened a cupboard. He was wrong. “Don’t trouble yourself ‘Mr. Waverley’,” ironically responded Reggie as he luckily chanced upon the right cupboard and withdrew from its spacious interior a huge, iron frying pan and placed it on the stove. The two chops were placed in it, and Reginald, now full of confidence, turned on a burner. Alas! It was the wrong one. Not completely discouraged, he tried another. That also was the wrong one. Now the enterprising “Happy” decided to cast his luck to the mercy of the Fates. He too was wrong! Undaunted by his earlier failures, Reggie tried again. Failure! Madigan in the meantime had bent down and was busily reading the names under the switches. “Ah! This is it,” he asserted and finally turned on the right one. Flustered with this success, the pesky “relief man” went one further. “I’ll get some plates,” he proffered, and turned to get them. There was a thump and a grunt. He turned around like a flash to see Allington-Smith in the grasp of a burly assailant who was certainly the better man and was fast lulling Reggie to sleep by thumping the heroic one’s head on the floor with consider¬ able force. Rushing to the stove, Madigan grasped the great frying pan and struck with all his force the bald pate of the huge one. It was the best “relief” job ever engineered by “Happy” Madigan. Reggie’s assailant dropped like a log to the floor. “Happy” stooped down to help the groggy Allington-Smith to his feet and left him swaying on his members while he bent down once more to pick up Reggie’s soft felt and place it on his own head. Running as fast as he could, while supporting his dazed comrade in trouble, Madigan made for the scullery. Arriving at his destination he picked Reginald up by the seat of his trousers and the scruff of his neck, hoisted him up on to the window sill, and gave him a push. He then clambered up himself, and holding tightly to his black bag, leaped to the ground. The retainer of the mansion regained consciousness a few moments later and ran to the window. There, in the moonlight, were the figures of “Happy” Madigan and Mr. Reginald Allington-Smith, racing off through the night with their coat-tails flying. Although the local newspaper had reported that Sir James Waverley had left for a six months’ vacation in England, it had not explained that their butler had been left behind to guard the house.