Grimsley High School - Whirligig Yearbook (Greensboro, NC)

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20 THE SAGE “Why, Rich, what brings you here on Christmas? I thought you were in Georgia. Milly, meet mv room-mate. Richard Grey. Richard, my cousin, Mildred Hanson,” said the boy. “Why, we are already acquainted old sport,” replied Richard Grey. Mildred stood by in amazement. Here stood two boys so near alike that she had taken an impostor for her beloved cousin Richie! What had she done? “Well, Richie,” said Richard Grey, “I’ve played a good trick on you, so I’ll have to explain it.” “I think somebody better,” replied Mildred, still look¬ ing from one to the other. Richard Grey looked at Richard Carson and Mildred Hanson, and laughed heartily. “Miss Hanson, I am due you an apology, and so I’ll explain it all. Richard is my room-mate at Harvard.” Mildred gasped, and turned from one shade of red to another. “As you see, we are very much alike, and are often taken for each other. I became acquainted with you through Richard and I was curious to see you in real person. Some of the boys heard Richie was coming to spend Christmas with you. Four of the boys made me a wager of five dollars that I couldn’t come here and meet you without your rec¬ ognizing me as a stranger. I was game, and so here I am. Even my old friend Richie here knew nothing of the plan.” “How foolish I was not to ask if you were Richard Carson at first. Oh! why am I so silly?” cried Mildred. “Old sport, you are a game bird sure enough, and you sure played the part fine,” said Richard Green slapping Richard Grey on the back. “I’ll let you decide whether or not I’ve won the wages Miss Hanson ,” he said laughingly. Mildred looked up, and suddenly seeing they were standing under a large bunch of mistletoe, she replied sweetly:

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THE SAGE 19 “Maybe,” be said, straightening his tie. “And, Richie, tell me about your room-mate, Richard, that is always writing notes on my letters from you. I’m just crazy to see him, but I just imagine he carries on with every one, but I never have been able to overcome that demon of feminine curiosity.” Richard moved uncomfortably in his chair, and cough¬ ed. “I’m afraid you have the wrong opinion of Richard. He is a genuine sport, and all the girls like his company.” “I wish you had sent me his picture with some of those kodak pictures, because I would like to see how he looks.” “Well, I’ll tell Richard of his unkonwn admirer when I get back.” “Indeed you won’t” she replied indignantly, “I’ve never admired him in the least. I think you’re awful rude. The idea of you telling him anything I said.” With this she began to pout, as if terribly hurt. Rich¬ ard looked puzzled and getting up said: “Come, come, Milly, old girl, I’ll not be naughty again. Come, show me vour presents, and forget about our little spat.” She brightened up, and taking him by the arm they went out into the adjoining room. “Now, this silver card case is from dear Cousin Emily, you know she always remembers me. This candy is from Charles, and by the way, he is coming over tonight to see you.” “That’s nice, and who is this pin from?” Just then they heard a loud masculine voice in the hall. “Anybody at home? This is a nice way to treat a fel¬ low.” Milly gave a little startled cry, and looked at the young man wdio had just entered. “Why, who-o-what, who are you both? Which one is really my cousin? Am I seeing things or dreaming? Richie, my cousin, speak up.” Both boys looked at each other with a surprised coun¬ tenance.

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THE SAGE 21 “You’ve won the wager, and also an Invitation to Christmas dinner.” Richard looking up, also discovered the mistletoe and with a broad grin replied: “You bet I’ll stay!” ETHEL STOCKTON, ’22. MY HISTORY By J. C. Berry, ’21 I sit and study and try to learn To know my history, And to late hours, the light I burn To learn my history. In Shorthand I am quite a swell, But not in history; In English I do very well, But, 0 you history! The zeros, O, the zeros fall On me, because of history; In vain upon my brain I call, But naught can get for history. I close my book and give a sigh, All for my history, For twelve o’clock is drawing nigh, And still it is not done—my history!