Loyola University Maryland - Evergreen / Green and Gray Yearbook (Baltimore, MD)

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THE LOYOLA ANNUAL 1.3 Whtn N lj00n the opbamareB J J IGH up in the heavens hung a slice of golden moon. Over near Grant’s Hall a quintet of late-returning students were singing in low, sentimental tones while occasionally the tenor voice rose sharp and clear on the cool night air. It was the twenty-eighth of September. Two days before there had jumped off the rear steps of the 1.55 College Special a stylishly dressed youth v ith blonde hair, blue eyes and sunset cheeks that were the envy of every girl who sav them. He was evidently sixteen years of age and his name was Nelson. With him came his sister v ho resembled him v ith the same fair skin and tender features. He had rented tv o rooms in Chester Hall “just for comfort,” as he afterv ards explained, although for the past two days his sister had occupied one and remained v ith him until he v as settled in cheerful ease, for Jerry Nelson v as the baby of the family, v hich meant that he was hopelessly spoiled. Nelson had posed as a “bad character” to all those v ho had dropped in to see him. Tobacco pouches v ere scattered all over the room in a sort of inviting v ay v hile champagne corks v ere strung across the mantle piece in ostentatious profusion. About this time the sophomores had been at their hazing, contrary to all college rules and unmindful of the entreaties of the faculty. Thompson, a freshman, had been taken out the night before and given a glue bath in a horse-trough v hile Bender v as compelled to send a love letter v ith a delicious- appearing package of soot to Miss Nancy Winkle-spoon v ho v as an elderly spinster and an ardent suffragette. Ford, a classmate of Nelson, had v hispered to him that the sophomores had marked him for the night of the tv enty-eighth. No v on-

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THE LOYOLA ANNUAL I I V JIrtrp What would you take for that wee little mite You lovingly soothe into slumber tonight? For that rosy-cheeked face you press to your own, And you kiss the child lips of the man to be grown, For that chubby soft hand you as tenderly press As you tuck it away with a good-night caress; What would you take, mother? What would you take? What would you take for that sweet little smile, That breaks like the day dawn, devoid of all guile? For that Hash from those peep-eyes, overflowing with love Wirelessed to you mother, straight from above. For that voice filled with meaning, attuned to a coo, Metred to laughter’s sweet music for you; What would you take, mother? What would you take? Why should I ask you? I know you would not Part with your cherub, whatever the lot. Wealth’s no inducement, the mother and wife For the babe in her arms would sacrifice life; Yes, spurn the world’s treasures, repudiate pelf. For the child that she nurtures is dearer than self. Naught would you take, mother, Naught would you take. Alumnus.

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14 THE LOYOLA ANNUAL der, for Nelson had leaped into social popularity in a day and had even fluttered some immutable hearts that hitherto had remained unsusceptible to the gallantry of noble sophomores. Outside on the dew-moistened grass seven sophomores were sitting behind the hedge that encircles Chester Hall. “Are you sure his sister has gone?” inquired one. “Yes, dead cer- tain she took the 4.20 train this afternoon,” came an answer. Then followed a fracas of short duration which left them in doubt whether it was Nelson’s sister or the school teacher at Mountville who had taken the 4.20 train that afternoon. “Oh, let’s risk it,” said a burly sophomore, sizzling with expectation like the escape valve on a radiator. It was late and the corridor was as dark as the throat of a Numidian lion. “Room 44 at your command,” whispered a successful searcher who had been groping about and feeling the numbers on forty other doors. “Let’s go in one at a time all together,” said a humorously- inclined individual. “Oh, shut up and be serious,” growled one named Burlington, who was undoubtedly the ringleader. The window was up and the moon cast its beams on a luxuriant leopard-skin rug, giving the scene a weird effect. Over near the other end of the room was a bed and Burling- ton tiptoed slowly towards it. There on the bed lay a sleep- ing form with soft, effeminate features and arms as white as the pillow. He touched a hand and — it was a woman! At that moment she awoke with a cry of frightened alarm, bound- ed out of bed to the latchkey and rushed for the phone on the mantle-piece. The sophomores stood spellbound. “Hello, Exchange? Yes. Well, give me the police station, quick. It this the Captain? Well, I have seven burglars, what? Yes, seven, one, two, three, yes, seven, and I awoke and found them in my room this instant. One of them has a rope, evidently to lower my jewelry case. Yes, Chester Hall,