Milton Academy - Yearbook (Milton, MA)

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THE METICULOUS MR. TURNER Mr. Turner paced up and down in front of Macy's Store. In spite of the driving rain he gave the appearance of immaculate neatness and perfect tailoring. Every article of apparel blended wtith every other. Even his red carnation matched the touch of red in his tie. He stopped, pulled out his watch, and rapidly wound it. Then he bought a paper nearby and returned to his post at the street corner before Macy's main door. He was obviously nervous. Every now and then the corners of his mouth turned up in an uncertain smile. Mr. Turner was really quite proud of himself. He had thought up this plan all alone without even his wife's reassurance. In fact, his scheme concerned Jane herself and it was imperative that she know nothing of it beforehand. Last Sunday Alfred Turner had finally decided to take a drastic step. They were Walking back from church and she had dropped her pocketbook. He had always said she would, he had Worried about it in bed at night, and at last it had happened. It was all because she insisted on carrying it carelessly, extremely carelessly, stuck under her arm. He had told her time and again that anyone along the street could pull it out and she would not be aware that it had gone. Mr. Turner had always been annoyed at the number of valuables that women carried about in their purses, and if Jane lost hers -. But Jane had, as usual, laughed good-nat- uredly at him, had gone right on with this distressing habit. Well now, he was going to prove his point. He knew that she was leav- ing the store after a fitting at about twelve o'clock, so she ought to be coming out at any minute. Suddenly he saw a figure in a gray tweed coat leave the store and hurry up the street. It was Jane. He put down his umbrella and pushed through the crowd until he was behind her. Glancing guiltily around, he slipped the pocketbook from under her arm and jumped on the Fifth Avenue bus. Mr. Turner suffered agonies the rest of the day. He mu.st call up his wife and relieve her anxiety. She was probably frantically phoning the police, putting advertisements in the paper, and desper- ately awaiting the arrival of her husband. But a certain unusual stubbornness on Mr. Turner's part prevented him from relieving Jane's torment. At five-thirty he entered the houseg but no distressed Jane rushed to his arms. He hurried into the living room. There was his wife placidly knitting. Slhe looked up and smiled. Why, you got home early, dear. Mr. Turner stared as if seeing a ghost. But he de- cided that she was not telling him of her loss in order to spare him the worry, or maybe out of sheer stubbornness. Well, he would play page twenty two the ITIGQUS

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down the track for exercise. There were Bob and Ellen with their father's Gad-fly. Carrie hoped fervently that if Yellow Jacket didn't win and Gad-fly did, she would sink quietly into the earth, rather than have to face their jeers next Monday at school. Bob and El- len were bad winners, and even worse losers. Carrie wondered what they would say to her when Yellow Jacket emerged victorious this afternoon. She really could not imagine her future life if Yellow- Jacket didn't wing everything depended on it-she couldn't think of quite everything that did-but heavens-what would she say to the kids at the dance tonight? No doubt about it, Yellow-Jacket had to win-even if Bob and Ellen did say he was doped! At half-past two that afternoon, Carrie was at the paddock tell- ing Postem to win-a rather unnecessary procedure, but it made her feel calmer to look at Yellow-Jacket, who was so sure of himself. She then made her way through the milling mob of spectators to her box and sat chewing the corner of her program nervously. Yellow had to win-but she'd been over all that with herself before, it seemed. She felt all hollow inside as the trumpet shrilled out and, lean- ing over the rail, she watched for Postem and Yellow. After a great deal of maneuvering they were in their places and then-Car- rie was chewing harder tha.n ever-they were off! The crowd rose and yelled madly. However, a calm came over Carrie. and she was not watching the race. Wasn't it all a silly business! This race, looked forward to for so many? weeks. slaved for, and with every- thing sacrificed for it, was being run now. In a few minutes, a few small minutes, it would be all over. and a great amount of money would change hands. Their name would be famous for a day or two if Yellow won-what then? Pops would be richer, but what did that matter? They had enough money to be happy on. This race made no one happy. She looked about. Everywhere were the strained faces of worried people. They came to the Derby for pleasure, but they didn't look very happy. Carrie saw, for the first time, how pointless it all was-all the preparation, all the buildings, time, care, people and money it took so that twenty horses belonging to rich men could run for a minute or so. A great roar roused her from her thoughts. She suddenly became aware that the race was over. All her previous excitement came back. and she leaped up to see the numbers on the judges' board. Yes- yes, Yellow Jacket,-good old Yellow had come through again. All her thoughts about the futility of a race were now swallowed by the understanding of why races were-for the glorious feeling of vic- tory. Yellow had won! Nathalie Bell '39 the ITIGQUS page twenty we

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up too. I hope, Jane, you had a successful day of shopping and did not break my bank account. Yes, very successful, Alfred. I hope it was not too crowded around Macy's at the rush hour, so that you might have lost something? Why, no! You are always worry- ing, Alfred. But, Jane- Yes, dear? He would have to have it out with her nowg this calmness was too disconcerting. Jane, my dear, may I see your pocketbook a minute, please? Mrs. Turner arose, went to her desk, and returned with the purse in question. Alfred Turner sank upon the sofa. He had taken the wrong woman's pocketbook! Betty Black '37 ADVICE Have you ever lain beside a hidden well And wondered of the secrets it could tell? The mysteries of some past and by-gone hours, Of lords and ladies, of battlements and towers? Have you ever swum beneath the surface blue? Do all the living things look blurred to you? Do they look as if the artist's brush had made Some bad mistake which let the colors fade? Have you ever raced a dingy in the wet And felt your hair grow clammy on your neck? Found that you wrere soaked through to the skin Yet knowing in the end that you would Win? Have you ever stood beneath a tropic night, And watched the southern cross come into sight? Heard waves come slapping softly up the shore, Heard palm trees whisper things you never felt before? Have you ever skiied all day uphill and down And at sunset felt how tired you had grown? Later, stretched before a warm and cheerful blaze, Let your eyes to the fire-Wonders turn their gaze? If you haven't done these many things and more, You'll have missed the best of all life's varied store. When chances come your Way don't let them pass, But keep on saying Yes up to the last. Peggy Twfitchell '36 the ITIGQUS page twenty three li- l.. 1i-1 il