Mount Ida School - Ye Idler Yearbook (Newton, MA)

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E D L E Q .ss N Hurd and Fay were both yelling, My little doggie-whoopeeI The girls in Dot Locke's room were trying to sleep-and study in the closet, Ca most difficult featj. Slowly and cautiously, like a fat kewpie doll, Leslie Friend crawled from her room, grumbling over many a fall. - This kept up for an hour, some came and some went. And sometimes some of them back to their own rooms were sent. They would gather, maybe ten of them, in a room meant for two, And when discovered, you would find some under and in the bed with you. Jane Rayburn didn't quite know how to disappear when caught, and so, One night saw her climbing chimneys-but let her tell the tale of woe. There were times when Aurelie'd growl awful- And when Nancy Jane just couldn't grin. And when everything seemed all terrible and the blues began to set in. There'd be crabbing-and much fighting, till I really was afraid, To venture forth from my cubby-hole lest I come back a tailless maid. Some of them would study from 9:00 'till the bell- Some would write letters-while others slept well. But whenever you ventured to stay up late at night- A tap on the door-then- Please-PUT OUT THAT LIGHT! I once heard someone growling about a residence standing grade. This is a gross injustice, said the innocent little maid. So down the stairs she wandered-and asked the teacher dear. What made my mark come down so, and make me quake in fear? The teacher took a blue book and paged it through and through, December fifteen-ah! PROWLINGY-Why, Leanore, that's YOU! These girls were most accomplished-they could sew and type and write- They could wave your hair in no time-and could make you laugh all night. Gee-s'cuse me while I wipe a tear-these things make me feel sad- Sometimes I wish they hadn't come a'tall-then I wouldn't feel so bad! But I hope, some day, tho' they're far away, And thinking of Senior House, They'll remember me, tho' I'm not much to see- 'Cause I'm just another mouse! H311

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e Q S D '-TER A NIBBLE OF CHEESE HEN I think of the school days that now are all past, And of the girls who lived over here, When I think of Commencement that's faded long since,- Goshl it seemed such a short, short year. Those girls sure were great and packed full of fun, I never a dull moment had- I was racing around, crawling here-crawling there- Gee! to think of it makes me feel bad! There were always some girls making some kind of noise, But now it's so quiet and still- It seems sort of funny-not pleasant at all- Get used to it? Don't think I will. They'd come over at nine, chuck full o' delight, Laughing and talking, fithey talked most all nightj They went in their rooms, but were soon out again- You might just as well try to keep chicks in a pen. At 9 :3O sharp, a huge bell would clang. Much shuffle of vic's shut off with a bang. Come, chilluns, to bed-now hurry, my dears. They'd all laugh at that, their cheeks wet with tears. Now, where is Jane Rayburn? Is Aurelie in here? Has Leslie come over yet?- She'1l be late again, I fear. -an I,et's see now-that's Nancy and Shirley and Bea. I must look for the others-I wonder-dear me! Much visiting of rooms and calling of names Were indulged in from then on by this Senior coxswain At 9:45 the bell clanged once more. At 9:55 each girl shut her door. At 9:56 one creaked open again. And out into the hall came Aurelie Tremainel The upstairs was quiet 'cept for three girls I know. They carried on turrible till I'd like to have told them so lVlacNaughton and Bacon were both out of bed: Lou teaching Bacon to stand on her head! Noiselessly-quietly-like a large ton of bricks, Aurelie creaked across the hall, Qthat sly little minxj Much laughing and singing went on in Room 3, H301

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N PANORAMA NEW YORK! Dazzling lights like rhinestones, smokestacks with long inky forefingers trace their names across the sky. Bridges spanning the water like bracelets on milady's wrist. Buildings with tall spires, needles stuck in a pinicushion. Noise rising to shrill shrieks and lowering to a con- stant hum-the song of Manhattan. People walking restlessly as caged animals. Taxis like bees swarming to an unknown destination. A cobweb of streets .... walled in with no chance for freedom. Deep gorges-with traffic pouring through them. Canyons-holding the sharp melody of heavy traffic. Harsh notes from the motor horns as they raise their voices above the roar. New Yorkl, . . where premiers are made or closed. M311 owning all at night and in the morning taking alms from society. Night clubs .... a blare of brassy noise .... a laugh .... liquor ,... women in bright colored formals, men tottering ..... Dissipation ..,. Subways . . . sardines. Perhaps this is life, Night .... a wonderful panoramic view from above. Heights and depths. Water like shiny black snakes curling around. Buildings built like giant staircases etched against the sky and, from the top of the tower a glance over the edge into eternity .... on all the lights .... a thousand times more numerous than the stars-on the vast black cobweb of streets. .... Fragile lights on the Jersey shore tremble like drops of wind-stirred dew. Ferries crossing through the dark weave a golden thread into the night. The lights robbing the sky of the stars that should be hers. City of heart-break, broken promises. A city teaching the burden of soli- tude-the tragedy of a toothless smile. Dumpheap of the world. Perhaps -though this is life .... I JANE RAYBURN. 51323