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

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THE SCREECH OWL 15 IV Alas! poor timid foolish Elaine, When hit by Cupid’s dart, Not having her noble love returned, Died of a broken heart. V Where is the modern girl, Who would give up her sports and fun, And pine away in a lonely tower, As gentle Elaine had done? VI “Banish the thought,” cries the girl of to-day, What a silly I would be, He’s not the only pebble on the beach, Nor the only fish in the sea. Ruth Bishop, ’33. THE IRONY OF FATE “I hear old Link Conley ain’t been doin’ so well lately,” commented Sam Barker as the group of men sat down on the porch of the old store one afternoon in late spring. “Yeah, he may kick off any minute, it’s thet bad,” put in another. “The pore old feller. Spent all his life out in them thar hills, looking for gold that never was there. He’s a little batty, I reckon,” observed a third, Wes Moore by name. Just then two small boys came run- ning in a swirl of dust and halted be- fore the men, breathlessly. “Link Conley’s dead!” panted one, “we just ben up thet way ’n’ foun’ him layin’ in his shack jes’ like — ” he stopped for lack of breath. “He was deader’n a rock. We were scairt an’ run as fast as we could but he’s dead, for sure,” finished the other boy. “Dead?” The men seemed sur- prised even though they had just been talking of such a happening. “I reckon we better go there an’ give him a decent burial right there in his place,” one said after a slight pause. “We best take ’long the cor’ner ter make it formal-like, though course ever’body knows what he died of,” said a second. So a party of five or six men started for the old man’s place. Law- rence Conley, or Link as he was better known, had first come there more than forty years ago and had spent all his time searching for gold. The hills were scattered with holes which had been made by him in his vain hunt for gold. He kept much to himself and lived as a hermit. Few ever went to see him for he made it plain that he desired no man’s com- pany. But on these rare occasions when anybody had gone to see him, it had been discovered that his health was rapidly failing him. Some of the children went to see him out of curi- osity, which irritated him very much. Now these children had found him dead. The coroner pronounced it death due to natural causes. At once two of the men proceeded to dig a grave for the dead man’s remains. After a few minutes of digging one of them exclaimed, “Eh, what’s this?” Together they studied it for a mo- ment and rushed into the shack where the other men were. “Here’s the gold Link spent his life lookin’ for. Found it in his grave,” cried the first one, excitedly. And sure enough it was gold. Only a few feet away from one of the hun- dreds of places where the dead pros- pector had dug for gold, was dis- covered a gold vein as rich as ever could be wished. The greater part of his life, Link had spent in searching for this very gold. He had always said that there was gold “in them thar hills.” Others had called him crazy and this fact had made him take up the life of a hermit. And now the very men who had laughed at him were the ones who shared in the riches which rightfully belonged to the dead man.

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14 THE SCREECH OWL Mr. Harding, an old bachelor who was also visiting with Sir Thomas, made the remark that the more he came to Boston and saw examples of the modern women, the better he en- joyed the company of his dogs up Maine. This brought laughter from the whole company including the sedate Mr. Woodcock who now offered his opinion on the subject. Mr. Woodcock is a lawyer of the city who is held very much in the esteem of his friends. He seldom spoke but when he did speak all lis- tened intently. Mr. Woodcock said that he considered that smoking among women distinctly showed the degeneracy of the female individual, and he classed it as nothing more than utter vulgarity. He added that although he himself smoked, he could see no sensible reason why the women should adopt the bad habits of the men. After further discussion all agreed with him, and Mr. Keith said that the best way in which to stop the practice was for men in general to make known their disapproval. We now saw our waitress appear- ing with our lobster and soon all were masticating it eagerly. As I was eating I could not help thinking of our future mothers telling their children to be refined and dignified, while they, with their next breath, blew out a cloud of tobacco smoke. I think that as soon as women discover that they are less respected and ad- mired on account of this practice, they will give it up. For it is one of women’s foremost desires to appear well before gentlemen. S. McCleary, ’32. LAMENT You stupid, you stubborn thing. Why don ' t you try to help me — if only to please — tho’ it be painful to you. You — you on whom I spent my hard-earned money to make you my own — and squandered my last prec- ious pennies to buy you gay ribbons. How often I brushed and cleaned you until my fingers were worn almost to the bone. Never will I forget the times I carried you about in my arms and then dropped, exhausted, with my whole body aching, into the first place of rest. I’ll ne’er forget the nights when I put on your night-cap, and with a sigh of happiness left you — to dream of the morrow when I would again be with you. How many times have you caused my heart to ache with your cruelty, and have wrung the tears from my dimming eyes. To think that from my temple I once plucked a hair of silver — put there by you. But alas and alack, howe’er sad, ’tis true — even your dearest ones go back on you — refuse to help you in the darkest moments of life. But soon I shall leave you. Out into the world I shall go to earn my liv- ing; and there perchance I will meet others of your kind. But, ah, I pray they will not be as unkind and as ob- stinate as you. But what more can I expect of a Remington No. 10 typewriter? Sirkka Lehtinen, ’31. WHAT I WOULD HAVE DONE AS ELAINE I Lancelot, knight of the Table Round, Was loved by Elaine the fair, And because her love was not re- turned, Elaine gave up in despair. II She went to her lonely tower, And for many a day she staid, Singing the song of Love and Death, Refusing comfort and aid. III And one bright golden morning Of a beautiful summer day, Elaine, the fair, the lily-maid, In silence passed away.

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16 THE SCREECH OWL None of his relatives was known to be living so everybocfy shared in the dead man’s property. The news spread rapidly and the town experi- enced such a boom as it had not known since ’49. And the man who had been the cause of it all slept in the hills he had loved, perhaps not very peacefully. E. Kivinen, ’31. THE WORM WILL TURN Rodney Carter uneasily shifted his weight from the right foot to the other as he faced the father of the “only girl” who was to become his wife in exactly twelve minutes. At least, the invitations proclaimed that it would take place at seven o’clock. “The one thing you must remember is to be firm with Ginny. You’ve been too easy with her. Don’t forget, she has left three bride-grooms standing at the altar and she won’t hesitate one moment to make you a fourth,” cautioned his future father-in-law, Alexander Morton. “Yes, sir, I’ll try to remember,” re- sponded Rodney with all the spirit he could summon after this dampening advice. The entrance of Stiles, the butler, checked any further conversation. “Miss Virginia wishes to see Mr. Carter in her boudoir immediately.” “There’s your death-summons, Carter. Remember, turn the tables on her. Don’t be the ‘yes-man’ of the past ; but dominate — they like it. Think of me, my lad, I have to pay for her weddings,” chuckled Morton. With these words ringing in his ears, Rodney slowly mounted the broad stairway. He now realized that he had always been too ready to an- swer her becks and calls. The door of Ginny’s boudoir opened and she dashed out, bedecked in flowing tulle and orange-blossoms. “Come in, Rodney. Oh, I don’t know how to tell you,” she began tearfully. “You don’t have to tell me,” inter- rupted Rodney. “You’re afraid of marriage and so am I. Yes, I’m afraid of marriage with you. What’s more, I’m not going through with it and at this very moment Parker is packing my bag. I don’t care what you say to the guests. Tell them I’m dead or better still, jilted, only don’t try to change my mind.” Virginia Morton stood dumb- founded. It finally dawned on her after a few minutes of stupefaction, that Rodney Carter was actually deserting her, leaving her standing at the very altar — alone. “Don’t you love me any more?” she managed to gasp at last. “Of course I love you and always will. But I can’t let you ruin my career, my whole life. You’ve de- serted three fiances but you shan’t do it to me. The worm has turned, Ginny, the worm has turned.” That was quite well done, Rodney thought to himself. What would be her reaction, what was she going to do, he wondered. Virginia calmly powdered her tip- tilted nose, picked up her bouquet, grasped the astounded Rodney’s arm and determinedly proceeded to lead him, protesting, to the altar. The worm had turned again ! A. Lampila, ’31. WISHING I I wish I were a Freshman again, Starting along that venturesome lane Of four long years in high school, Anticipating the joys and sorrows That will come through those long to- morrows. I wish I were a Freshman again — A Freshman both in soul and name! II I wish I were a Freshman again, A Freshman in an earnest train Of seekers after food, The food of knowledge and of work With all the vows never to shirk — I wish I were a Freshman again — A Freshman both in soul and name! B. Stockbridge, ’31.