Mechanic Falls High School - Pilot Yearbook (Mechanic Falls, ME)

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M. F. H. S. PILOT 23 set up properly, and I'll hand it to you when it comes to doing a job right. The printer felt proud when he thought that a man like Jones had stopped to drop a word of praise in his direction. After the printing was finished, he went out for lunch at his favorite cafe. He fe l t inclined to spread a lot of joy himself, so, when the little maid served him, he looked over the order with a smile of appre- ciation, and, as he started out, he spoke to the proprietor of the place. You've got the nicest place in this city , he said, and the best waitresses. I never go anywhere else, and I always recommend it to my friends. ' With a feeling of pride the pro- prietor watched his busy waitresses serve his customers. The printer was right. he did have good help. He would reward them for their remark- able service. He called them together and, to their surprise, told them that he was so well satisfied, he was increas- ing their wages. The waitresses thanked the boss but none seemed quite so happy as Annie Keith. She started home with a light heart. At the corner she ran into the cripple boy with his bundle of papers, and stopped to buy one. I'm not selling many this after- noon , the boy said in a discouraged tone. Oh well, you will , Annie answered cheerfully. It's early yet, and I am only one among many who have learned to depend on you always being on this corner with the evening papers, just call 'em and wait patiently. The little newsboy's face beamed with pleasure. Why-why, I never thought about it that way. I am glad to be of some use in the world, even though I can- not walk and work like other boys. The girl went on, but her message lingered in the heart of the crippled lad and his cheery voice attracted more buyers than usual. That night he told his blind mother of the beautiful lady, who had stopped to speak to him. The man who started the little word of praise to rolling had no way of knowing how far it went, but it's well to remember always that a little bit of praise goes a long way, and to give the bit of praise in every case where praise is worthy. Rudy Waldron, '31 POET'S CORNER THE FRIENDLY WIND Of all the voices of the outdoor world To me the voices of the wind are best. The wind that rushes free with wings unfnrlenl To toss the branees bare-ne'er to restg The balmy breeze that whispers with the pines And tells of darkly glowing skys at sunsetg The wind that in the evening howls sometimes When by the cosy fireside we sit. And let us not forget that mighty breeze, The ocean breeze that blowing fresh and cool To make the waves roll on in pounding seas And tells of realms where storms and tempests ruleg From raging tempest to the welcome breeze Of summer days-what better friends than these? Frances Carter, ' 31

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22 M. F. H. S. PILOT thing. You know I'm a girl. I wish you had broken your neck climbing down from that plane. I wish-I wish- Her voice broke. The man gazed at her in surprise and a queer look came over his face. He stammered forth. Why, you're a told me girl. You-they-you-they it was a young man piloting this plane. Oh, yes , she said scornfully, you did give me a wonderful ride. I don't suppose you know anything about the dynamite placed in this plane? Do you realize that I escaped death by one minute? But of course that wouldn't be anything. 'Plane crashes in Australia. Engine explosion. Too bad.' I can see it in the papers. now. She laughed mirthlessly. A varied group of expressions crossed his face. I-Ie drove in silence for several minutes while she stroked the little rabbit. Then, harshly. his voice broke the unbearable silence: Th e Western Syndicate has done all this to a girl, a girl with more pluck than any of the Syndicate men. I'll bet. I wish I had been more particular in securing a po- sition. You see, I'm a stunt-flyer, Harrv Bellevue. They offered me a good price to do this: said you'd killed a man and was beating it. Mariorie. after a good cry, told everything, money, friends, prize and all. After a while he said: I'm sorry, Miss. Lynne. I won't take th eir money. I You can bet on that. Here's a scheme. You're to say I'm a me- chanic picked up in Sidney. Then I'll skip. You-you'll forgive me for my part in this affair, won't you? Marj won the contest. However, the mechanic from Sidney didn't skip very fast, for Marj didn't agree with the last part of the plan. Somehow, it didn't seem to her that she was going to be without friends and money, long. Hertha B. Ridley, '33 THE VALUE OF PRAISE A little praise, some times travels a long way, when once set in motion. The editor of a big newspaper came into the ofnce one morning in an unusually pleasant frame of mind. Everybody on the staff seemed to be busy in their places and 'things were running very smoothly. He stopped, for a moment, to speak to an editorial writer. This paper would be a failure. Jones , he said enthusiastically, if it wasn't for your good articles. Naturally, Jones was pleased and inspired over a word of praise from the boss, and immediately he went to work on an article that he had been dread- ing for a week. With the words of nraise still ringing in his ears, he pro- ceeded to write the article without difficulty. When it was finished he took it to the printer. Here, Jim, set it up , he said to the head man, let's see how it looks in print. Well, this is a strong subject, jones, said the printer as he eyed the sheet. Pretty go o d article , an- swered the writer, but you know, it wouldn't be worth a penny if it wasnft

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24 M. F. H. S. PILOT THE SPELLING BEE Some folks may think a Bee is fun But Sophs feel better when the thing is done. One day our prof had a bright idea- Not even thought of the panic and fear That would surely come to each timid heart- Named Friday P.M. as the time to start. Back from Assembly t1'ooped classes four, Each inwardly vowing they'd have the gore. The teachers drilled on many a word That even the Stars had never heard. Recess was the time for hot debate Whether Webster meant 'a' in the word 'sep- arate'. All too soon the time flew by. Each heart stopped beating-we know not wl1y- When Friday P.M. the appointed date Arrived to decide the classes' fate. The teachers had arranged the bout But the Sophs and Seniors must fight it out. With bated breath and shaking knee The victims approached midst the Freshies glee And stood on opposite sides of the stage. I They couldn't conceal the ire and rage They felt for the foe who might spell down And win for their class the vif'tor's crown. Here comes the Prof. All hope is gone. All noise is hushed. The fight is on. 'Amanuensis'-Oh, for some brains! Senior 1 tries it with infinite pains. Some one show mercy. Throw him a line. Once there were ten. New there are nine. 'Stereotype' for the sophies' side. The Seniors try their joy to hide. With halting voice the Soph replies, I ean't think whether it's 'e' or 'i'.'l So down goes Sophie number 1. While the Seniors feel that the crown is won. So down through the ranks the words are Hung. Each victim answers with halting tongue. At last with only two minutes to go. There 's little left of that once brave row- Two wilted Seniors and one lone Soph Remain to carry the honors off. Words never heard of nor dreamed of before Fiendishly picked from unknown lore. But Hush! What is it we clearly hear? The bell! Oh well! Decision is near. Out steps the Prof with extended hand To claim the attention of all the band. The Seniors had won by one lone vote Thus dashing to earth the Sophies' hope. Still in the halls we hear the roar Of battles .like that in the days of yore. For the Sophs are shouting with fearful din We may be down, but we won 't give in. 7 Iola Chase, '33 'PHE HOUSE UNDER THIE HILL The house that nestles underneath the hill With pine trees green to frame the picture well 3 It seems to me to be a house to fill With children who make merry laughter swell. The rock beneath the tree would make a seat Fit for a king to sit on while he reads. The hill behind the house is such a treatg A sled is all the romping boy needs. The barn is just the place for boys to playg To jump from beam to beam and back again And trample in the sweetly smelling hay, And watch the sunbeams lengthen in the lane. When I see all the beauties of the place It makes my troubles easier to face. Ruth J. Thompson, '31 THE JUNIORS WORRY The Juniors all look forward To the prize speaking day, Why are we compelled to speak? Why are the rules this way? We worry about our pieces, first And hope for the 'very best, And when the time comes to speak- But then you know the rest.