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

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.”

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 16 text:

12 THE SCREECH OWL “What! thou woulds’t overlook thy studies for athletics? True, that is a crime I can never pardon. I will re- port thy misbehavior to our beloved principal !” Indignantly he strode towards the head master’s office and rapped severely on the door. When, after many frantic knocks, he received no answer, he rushed frantically around the building tearing his hair. Ten, twenty, thirty minutes, but no prin- cipal. Meanwhile the honorable students were raising the roof in the class- room, and great delight was ex- pressed when the passing moments brought no professor. As a last re- sort, the aforesaid pedant retreated to the gymnasium, where a rapid succession of knocks had attracted his attention. Much to our dear pro- fessor’s amazement, he found the head master clad in orange and black attire, shooting baskets from all four corners of the gymnasium. Our weak-kneed professor could but drag himself back to the class- room where he was forced to over- look the pupils’ neglect. G. Garland, ’30. AMBITIONS We all have our ambitions Mother, Susie, Pa, and Ted, And suffer inhibitions And are dizzy in the head. Mother’s sole and only reason For living till this day Is to beat old Mrs. Gleason In chasing pounds away. Susie prinks and curls and fusses And is always on the go, She fumes and raves and rushes To win her friend’s best beau. The aim that father treasures Is easy ’nuff to guess, The chief of all imaginal pleasures, To beat Si Parks at chess. You don’t get to aspiration Until you come to Ted. He longs for admiration For standing on his head. My wish I soon can mention ; It’s easy in the main. It’s to chuck old darn convention And walk bare headed in the rain. Ma says, “Why child, you’re nutty ! Can that talk and listen here. The rain will soak you into putty And pour into your ear.” Though all are rather busy In one thing they agree That one of us is crazy, And that one must be me. Everywhere there’s compensation And I have found it true; So you may think of others What others think of you. WHAT SHALL I MAKE OF MYSELF? Ambition — defined by Webster as “a consuming desire to achieve some object or purpose” — is a quality which every student of any high school should possess. If anyone has that characteristic, he will set a goal for which to strive; then he will do all in his power to attain that goal and reach the pinnacle of success. Despite this fact, ambition doesn’t necessarily mean that one must have a desire to achieve only one purpose and let all other things go. In these modern times when there is such great competition for all positions in every trade or work, a person must be able to do many things fairly well. In other words, one must be a “jack-of- all-trades.” A new-comer in any busi- ness or art finds it difficult to be a success because of the fact that there are so many trying for a small num- ber of desirable positions. The first question, and the most vital question which should be in the mind of a person beginning to prepare himself for the work of life, should