Maynard High School - Screech Owl Yearbook (Maynard, MA)

Page 14 text:

10 THE SCREECH OWL Honorable mention has been given to Harriet Frye, a member of the Junior class, whose story follows: PAUL TO THE RESCUE “Here is a story, believe it or no. It happened to Cook and I know it’s so. The scene was — ” “Oh, preserve it for a rainy day. If you can ' t talk prose like the rest of us, keep it to yourself,” interrupted Bernice ' s older, and of course, super- ior brother Paul. “Well, what I was about to relate to your royal highness,” continued the undaunted Bernice, “is that Judy walked in her sleep again last night — but alas ! — I fear a most disastrous outcome. She walked up and down the hall by Chloe’s bedroom door, waving her arms about and reciting Lady Macbeth ' s sleep-walking scene. Poor Cook is nearly frantic and de- clares she won ' t stay in this ‘ghost ' s den’ another day. She plans to leave on the 7 : 15 train tomorrow morning.” “For cat’s sake,” exploded Paul, jumping up from the most comfort- able chair in the room. “A fine scrape — with Mother and Dad not due home for a week yet — and, holy gee! — our party’s tomorrow night!” “Yes, dearest brother, and but forty cents remains in the family treasury. None of us can boil water without burning it, let alone cook anything. Oh, we’ve got to keep Chloe.” “Now listen, you two,” said Paul as Judy entered the room, “I’m respons- ible for us all in Dad’s absence — ” “Oh, listen to the child,” giggled Bernice, “most illustrious sir, I humbly beg to be allowed — ” But Paul silenced her with a glance (being a football player), and contin- ued: “Judy you’re the cause of all this — can you offer any suggestions ?” “Yes, I thought that maybe Bern- ice could sleep in Chloe’s room to- night, and at, say twelve o’clock, I could do the same thing over again. Then Bernice could show Cook that it’s only me.” “Marvelous, stupendous, how did you ever think of it?” was Bernice’s comment. “Gee, Judy, that’s just the thing. And I’ll keep vigil with you, too — when you hear that cat-call of mine you’ll know that it’s time for your act. I’ll have to stick around to see that everything goes off right.” So it was agreed. The trio spent the rest of the day trying to console pessimistic Chloe, but that negress just wasn’t to be comforted. Came the night. They all retired early, and Paul found it hard to keep awake the long three hours to midnight. He started to read “Tom Slade, Dispatch Rider,” for the tenth time, but found the repetition too monoton- ous. He then proceeded to get out his writing materials and started a letter to Bill, but stopped after writing the salutation because he couldn’t think of anything to say. The remainder of the time was spent by poring over his old stamp album. Finally the downstairs clock struck twelve. Paul opened his door, and crossed the hall to Judy’s room. “Me-oow, me-oow !” No answer. He knocked on the door and called, as loudly as he dared, “Sis! Judy! Ju-u-u-dith!” Gentle snores were the only reply. No doubt about it — she was asleep and it would be useless to wake her — she’d get excited and there was no telling what Judith Hazelton would do when she got excited! Paul crept down the hall and made sure that Bernice and Chloe were asleep — he could easily tell by the sound, — then went back to his own room to concentrate. Weren’t girls just the limit? You never could depend on them. All ex- cept Ruth Rhodes, but then she wasn’t like other girls !

Page 13 text:

The “Screech Owl” staff is printing in this issue two stories chosen as the best of those submitted to the con- test. “The Owl” extends its thanks to Miss Ruth Finn, Miss Helen Morgan, and Mr. Guy Fowler, who acted as judges. SCREECH OWL PRIZE STORY THE LAST CLICK By Katherine Bariteau Katherine is an active member of the class of ’30. Her literary career has been short and this is her first prize money in that field. Katherine is em- ployed in a local bookstore, which may explain her literary trend. She likes the out-of-doors and is adept at many sports. She is a pleasant associate and finds much enjoyment with her class- mates. Katherine intends to enter Bridgewater Normal in the fall. New York City! Hustle, excite- ment, noise everywhere, horns blow- ing, trains puffing, and people rushing to their destination. Jack Wells, one of the many million visitors to New York, was lounging gracefully on the hotel divan when he heard his name being called. “Mr. James Wells! Mr. Wells!” Jack jumped up, looked around him and saw a messenger calling and wav- ing a yellow envelope in the air. “Right here, Buddy,” replied Jack. “Pm James Wells.” The boy handed the telegram to Jack, who signed for it. Jack carefully examined the enve- lope and said, “Why, this is the first time Fve ever received a telegram! It can’t be bad news !” Cautiously, he opened the telegram and read the con- tents. “Come at once stop Mother very ill stop Rose.” Jack’s face paled, his hands shook, his eyes glared, visions ran speedily through his mind. “Mother very ill? It — it can’t be. She was well and happy when I left a week ago, but Rose would never send me a telegram if it were not seri- ous. I’ll go home immediately.” Hurriedly, but still in a daze, Jack packed his bag and boarded the train heading for home and Mother. “Oh, why doesn’t this train go faster? We are merely crawling.” Suddenly his face brightened, “I know. I’ll get out at the next station and go by airplane.” This Jack did and found himself in San Diego in an hour. Arriving home, he was confronted at the door by the dearly loved but- ler, Perkins, with a horrified look that Jack had never seen before. “Oh Perkins, what has happened? I must see her at once ! Where is she ? Answer me, Perkins!” “My boy,” said the butler. “Com- pose yourself and listen to my advice. Your mother is seriously ill and knows no one. She continually calls your name. Go to her. She will not recognize you, but be brave for — ” “Stop! I must go to her!” cried the boy. At that, Jack bounded lightly up the stairs and stopped before his mother’s door. Gathering his courage, he slowly opened the door and saw his frail, pale, yet sweet mother lying on her bed. Clearing his throat he said, “Mother, I am here.” “Camera! 0. K! Stop!” shouted the director of the Magno Film Company. “We’ll shoot the rest of the scene to- morrow.”

Page 15 text:

THE SCREECH OWL Suddenly it dawned on him. Why couldn’t he wrap a sheet around him and take the part of Chloe’s friend ghost ? To think was to act with Paul and it wasn’t long before he was pacing the hall in front of Chloe’s door and reciting the first thing that entered his head — Bernice’s half-finished rhyme of the morning before. “Here is a story, believe it or no, It happened to Cook and I know it is so, The scene was — ” “Oh Lord, hab mercy on a poor innercent nigger who nebber done no- body no harm.” Chloe was on her knees. Her wails awoke Bernice who remembered her cue. She opened the door and grabbed Paul. “See, Chloe, it’s only Judy walking in her sleep — just as we said. That is — I mean Paul.” The negress was reconciled at last, and of course she promised not to neglect her charges. She also vowed that they would all have the best re- freshments ever, at their party. “Lucky you interrupted me there,” remarked Paul to Bernice, “I wouldn’t let you continue that blessed rhyme this morning you know.” And Judy slept on serenely. A LIE BY ANY OTHER NAME IS JUST AS SWEET James Carroll brought the smoothly purring limousine to a stop with a lurch, and nimbly sprung from its velvet-cushioned seat. It was spring, and luxury was his. A trim figure he made, too, content with his worldly lot. Who would not be con- tent with fashion’s most approved clothes on his back, and the world’s largest and handsomest car to drive ? He walked through the park with a jaunty, springing step. Suddenly a dainty white wisp of lace fluttered to the ground at his feet. Ah, an old trick, he thought. But gallantly he It picked it up, catching a faint whiff of lilac as he did so, and held it in his extended hand, bowing. “Drop your handkerchief?” he asked courteously. “Oh, thank you,” came a murmur of gratitude and surprise as a pair of liquid eyes met his. By George! She was a stunning girl ! Such has been the introduction of many a friendship. Such it was of theirs. They sat together on the park bench; he of the aristocratic mien, she of rustic simplicity. “So you’re to go back to the country soon? You don’t like the city?” He did strive hard to keep up conversa- tion. “I live on Du Pont Crest. Ever heard of it? I’d like to take you there sometime and show you my polo field. Aristocrats live at the Crest. I like to get away sometimes and see other kinds.” “Like me you mean,” she said, and turned awa} . “Oh, here’s father; you must meet him.” She arose. A portly gentleman was introduced, and good-byes were spoken almost immediately. They must return to their rural home before nightfall. When they were gone, James Car- roll was still happy. He felt no pangs of conscience or feelings of remorse as he sat at the wheel of the gleam- ing car and heard his master’s voice from the rear order: “Home, James!” Wieno Sneck, ’30. A CLASSROOM EPISODE (In the Manner of Hey wood Brown) “Hearken ye, my young scholars,” quoth the professor as he nimbly oc- cupied his seat behind the bench, “what reports are these that the wind wafts to mine ears ? Is’t true that thy lessons have been neglected for to- day?” Small voice from rear of room: “Ah, ’tis too true, dear professor, erstwhile our time has been occupied with the noble sport of basketball.”