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

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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

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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 N a u t 1 1 u s “Well, I fairly prayed for a wreck or something’ exciting, so I might display my valor and arouse the lady to a sense of my existence, but nothing happened, so I simply had to play sea-shell and let her be star. I had even to sit and hear a beastly porter ask if he could get her a drink of water. And then, when my patience had reached the limit, and I had decided to do something desperate, I noticed she was asleep.” “Rather inconsiderate of her, considering your state of mind,” said Rose, mischievously. Clifford laughed. “I’m glad you think so,” said he, with another glance. “Go on, Cliff. Keep him going, fellows!” “Well, I had about given up the ghost, when I heard something drop. That obligingly rough train had jolted a comb out of her hair.” Clifford paused, and Rose started and turned aside to break some white clusters from the syringa bush that stood near. He glanced at her averted face, seeking permission to go on. “I picked it up, thinking the fates had at last relented, and my chance to speak to her had come, but she didn’t even wake up. So I formed wild hopes of being able to keep it as a remembrance of my unknown princess. However, I had a presentiment of blasted hopes, so I scratched my initials on the comb, thinking that in some mysterious way that might aid me.” “Oh, what an idea! The plot thickens! This is growing delightful,” exclaimed Helen. “Delightful, indeed!” growled Walt. •‘Cliff always does something crazy. Well, get to the end of all this! Give us the grand climax!” “Oh, there wasn’t any climax! There’s the rub,” said Clifford. “Oh, go on! I’ll pitch you out of your chair if you attempt to stop there!” “Well, the spell was broken by an ill-fate in the disguise of a porter, who aroused her, and told her that the next stop was Wyton. She barely had time to get her things together, and, of course, she missed that comb aud I had to hand it over,’’ finished Clifford. “You don’t mean you are going to end this chilling tale in this way, do you?” cried Walt, pommeling him. “Oh, you lobster! You've just got to finish it now!” cried Jack. “Didn’t I tell you there wasn’t any climax? I am powerless in the hand of the fates.” “Oh, we all hope you will find her,’’ said Helen, sympathetically. “Hooray! shouted Ted. Let’s form a detective society, and the fellow that finds Miss Comb gets to be best man.” “Do the girls come in on that, too?” “Sure thing!” “Then what do we get to do, if we win?” said Helen. “You can be maid of honor.” “Oh, won’t it be a college wedding, though?” 12