Jacksonville High School - Crimson J Yearbook (Jacksonville, IL)

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The Nautilus him, and was just explaining the fact that the Junior Prom was on for that night, that the usual number of cousins were coming, and that he himself was cousinless, when he heard Walt’s voice. “This way, Aunt Marion! Come, Rose! Aunt Marion, Rose, this is my friend, Clifford Willis.” Clifford turned; and with a countenance flushed with surprise and delight, faced—the goddess. “I am glad to meet you, Miss May-ton,” he said, with unusual fervor. Then, hoping that she might remember him, he added, “Your face is familiar; I think I must have seen you before.” “Yes—no—I think not—and yet your voice sounds familiar. No, I am sure that I have never met you before.” “Perhaps,” she suggested a little later, “you have seen my picture. Walton has my photograph, you know.” “No, Walt knows better than to display his treasures to barbarians,” Clifford said, feeling that he owed Walton an everlasting grudge. “Oh, say, now, Cliff, just remember the conditions under which you became one of my party, and don’t give yourself airs. Rose just sent the picture last week, anyway, didn’t you, Rose?” Then, as Rose turned away with pink cheeks and pretty dignity, he added, “Will you ride or walk? It is only a step to the hotel, you know. Walk? Well, come right on, then,” he said, taking his aunt’s hand-bag and leading the way. “Miss Mayton, I hope it will be agreeable; Walt has just engaged me as chaperone of this party for this occasion. He thinks your mother will not be sufficiently severe,” said Clifford, taking Rose’s suitcase and walking on ahead with her. “Chaperones should always make themselves plentiful, but in this case I shall be very aggressive and severe, indeed.’’ “You’ll pay for this, old fellow,” called Walton from behind. That night a party of young people gathered under the trees near the gymnasium away from the lights and heat of the dance hall. “Rose,” called Walton, as he saw two figures approaching in the shadowy light, “you may prefer to dance with nobody but Cliff, but wouldn’t you like to know some one else? Come on, you two, let me introduce Rose to some friends.” Then, as Clifford ingeniously contrived to oust him from his chair that he might seat himself beside Rose, Walt continued, with a frown, “I see I have been fortunate enough to engage an able chaperone.” “Oh, Rose!” said Helen Shaw, “Jack has just given me the dandiest souvenir from Cuba—a stick-pin. He was just beginning to tell us all about it when you came up.” “Go on, Jack; don’t be bashful in our presence,” said Clifford, maintaining his position next to Rose in spiet 10

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The Nautilus But the stop was short, and the moments precious. Without, as it seemed to him, even a passing- glance at him, she smiled her relief, and catching the comb hastily from his hand, hurried, with her light luggage, from the car. “A rather slim chance I stand of ever meeting this fair goddess again,” sighed Clifford, when he had seen her disappear in the station, the center of a group of admiring friends. “Still less hope have I that she would know me from Adam if I did. Well—he chuckled—anyhow—I didn’t slight the opportunity of leaving my mark on that comb. I hope the fates will be fair in this deal.” Clifford was on his way back to Oxbridge College after the summer’s vacation at home, and during the next few months, when not engaged in foot-ball practice and the usual round of college affairs, he devoted himself to his studies. But, although he was rushed with work, he did not forget the owner of the comb. When he and the other fellows were planning for the Junior Prom, the greatest social event of the year, he thought with dissatisfaction over the whole list of his pretty girl acquaintances, and could not decide which one he would take to the hop. The affair was to be May the first, and the students of Oxbridge were making great preparations for it. Each Junior had invited a young lady of his acquaintance from his home town, and had left the fellows of the other classes to invite the Oxbridge girls. On the afternoon of the first of May, Walton Gray, Clifford’s chum, asked him to accompany him to the station to meet his aunt, Mrs. Mayton, and her daughter Rose, who were to come in on the afternoon train. “Come right along! No nonsense, you young scamp. What are you up to lately, anyhow?” said Walt, taking Cliff’s hat from the table and tossing it upon his head. “Come on!” “Oh, of course, I'll go. But, Walt, I’m in hard luck just now. Do you know, I haven’t asked any girl to go with me to this affair tonight? I’ve just kept putting it off, and putting it off, and now it’s too late. It’s too late to ask any one.” “Well, you are in a nice fix! ‘Too late to ask any one!’ I should think so! Well, don’t ask me to help you out!” Then, as he saw Clifford’s dejection, he added, “Cheer up, old fellow; my cousin, Rose Mayton, is coming on the next train, and Jack Fox says his cousin, Helen Shaw, is coming at the same time. They are two capital girls, and Jack and I won't object to a little assistance from you in entertaining them, provided you don’t make yourself too conspicuous.” When the boys reached the station, the train was just pulling in, and Walt was up the steps and into the last car before it had quite stopped. Clifford stepped into the waiting room to speak to a friend who had accosted 9

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The Nautilus of Walt’s efforts to regain his chair. “Well, you know I went down to Cuba with a bunch of fellows to look after a tobacco plantation of my uncle’s. Among others, there was a charming senorita living on the plantation. One day we fellows gave a little entertainment for her benefit, and a funny little program it was. Each one did his favorite stunt- I sang some of our college songs, and someway that rather struck the girl’s fancy, and she gave me this stick-pin as a reward and a remembrance of her.” “You conceited Jack-a-napes!” said Clifford. “A lot of thanks she’d give you for parting with her gift in this way,” laughed Helen, as she examined the pin. “Listen to me. I had a streak of luck, too,” exclaimod Ted Andrews. “You fellows remember that Louise Wilmot lost her society pin at the last ball game, the one that, for some innocent offense of mine, she had forever debarred me the pleasure of wearing. Well, I found it under the bleachers yesterday.” “Going to send it to her right away, aren't you?” “Well, I guess not. She may have my Frat pin instead.” “You were a lucky fellow,” said Clifford. “Last fall, I almost got a valuable souvenir myself, but with my usual luck, just as I thought I had secured my prize, the clock struck twelve, and the fairy thing vanished.” “Oh, go on and tell it in plain English. We fellows can’t understand parables.” “Oh, yes; tell it in plain English, Mr. Willis!” said Rose. “Shall I tell it in plain English?” said Clifford, fixing his gaze steadily upon her. “Why, yes,” said Rose, flushing under his glance, “if you think it is entertaining, tell it in plain English.” “Well, with your permission, I’ll tell it. On the train, as I was coming up here last fall, I sat across the aisle from a real American beauty. She was reading a magazine, and didn’t seem to realize that such a person as I existed.” “Very unusual girl,” said Walt, “very superior. Rose, I recommend her to you as a model.” “Most likely she was as interested in you as you were in her,” interrupted Helen. “No she wasn’t, for I observed her closely enough. Why, I could paint a perfect picture----” “I bet you can’t tell what color her eyes were!” “They were a beautiful brown.” “What color was her hair, or are you sure she had any?” “She had fair curly hair, and a lot of it.” “Say, but this is interesting! He didn’t even know what color his own eyes were last week. Go on, old boy; you have the symptoms, all right.” “Oh, go on, Cliff ! Too many preliminaries!’ said the others.” 11