Mountain View Union High School - Blue and Gray Yearbook (Mountain View, CA)

Page 27 text:

7 BLUE AND GRAY Y-You really mean to say-that I am getting bald? Right ye are, Mister Tinker. Yer hair is fallin' faster than the Belguim forts in Europe! Y-You may give me the shampoo-if you think it will prevent further development of the troublef' Y-Yes Sir. And for the first time since he had been hit by a street car, Casey, for a moment, lost his wits. Bing Tinker had ventured a hasty, half guilty glance into the niir- ror! ! ! Ye'll be of hangin, out at a fashionable hotel will yez, Mister Tinker? Why-I'd hardly decided. No-I think not. Anywhere where the proprietors chose to let the rooms go dirtyf' Then ye'll be tickled to death with our extra room, Mister Tinker. And 'tis right handy to yer bank too.'l Your wife has not begun her house cleaning? f'Sure, and I'm thinkin' ye don't know me old woman. Shefll wait till me day of rest before she begins, so that her Casey kin beat the rugs. Ye 'll be safe until Sunday, Mister Tinker. Thank you. l'll take the room tonight. Bing slid from the chair. He looked at the clock. And for the first time in nine years he left, without having consulted his watch. To some men,', said Casey to the bootblack, Precident is worse than sooicide. That man will be loik a prizetighter. A fighter kapes in thrainin' jist so long, an' thin he goes on a toot that 'll make up for the toime he's lost twice over. 'Tis the tootin' that Mister Tinker will do, now that he's broken the precedent, that'll bring him harm. Ye watch the man an' see. Bing rode two blocks past his rooming house-the farthest West he had been since he had slept in Golden Gate Park during the tire in '06. The awful burden of truth rested as a monstrous weight upon his soul. H e, Horatio Cornelius Tinker, was getting bald! it 8? PX: Aren't you ever going to take time for luncheon, Mr. Tinker? It was the cheery voice of the First National 's stenographer. f'Eh, What? Oh, yes-that is, if it is time. H. Cornelius Tinker hastily left the bank leaving the two tellers, Miss Rose and Bank President Arthur staring after him in open- mouthed amazement. For the first time in nine years he had left his gloves and his stick behind. In the Peacock Cafe, Henri, the establishment 's oldest employee, swore he'd never touch another drop. H. Cornelius Tinker had not started his daily meal with oonsomme. No soup today, Sir? No, Henri-not today or any day. Please remember that, Henri. The oldest employee in the Peacock Cafe began chewing cloves. He didn't remember taking a drink but he was determined to be on the safe side. Bing wondered if omitting his soup really would help toward restoring his hair. He didn 't really see why it should, but Mammies Aid to Beauty Seekers said that it wouldland Bing's faith in Mam- mie was boundless. Bing's whole being was a portrait of W01'l'y. His

Page 26 text:

FOR TH' SAP WAS RUNNING 21 of baseball. Bing had never before realized how entertaining this line of talk had been until today. He was sorely tempted to open the conversation himself-something he had never done in all the nine years in which he had been cashier in the First National. Did y' ever get Spring fever? asked Casey, the barber, at length. Bing hadn't-but he 'd had Scarlet fever and the mumps. f'I've had it every year 'till I came to the city, remarked Casey. HI get it worst when I bite into the red pepper what's always in th' candy on April Fool's Day. Something like the Blues, then? ventured Bing. Yis and no. When you've got the blues you're mad with some one. Whin it 's Spring fever that's ailin' yez, yer'er of a feelin' like ye 'd like to love every darlint that ever wore petticoats. But in both th' disases yer'er as lazy as a greaserf' CI dare say it is a peculiar ailment? Sure, and it is that. Have ye iver encountered wid a Spring Poet, Mister Tinker? Not that I know of. Ye'd of knowed it if ye 'd seen wan, said Casey. I'll not try to describe wan-it 's beyond the powers of language. But wance in a great while wan of 'em sezs somethin' sensible. The wan I had riference to discribes Spring fever to perfiction. He sezs that in the Spring time a young man 's fancy turns to thots of Love. Aint that sensible, Mister Tinker? Quite so. Bing considered it a breach of etiquette to disagree on so slight a subject. Any wan but a Spring Poet, resumed Casey, would of said it more to th' pint-' In Spring a young man 's head is dotty.' That is if it ain't already so dotty it can 't grow worse. I'm afraid I'll get it, Mr. Tinker? Get what? asked Bing with no little concern. The Faver, said Casey. Oi'll get it if Oi hear some one beatin' a rug. ' Bing decided that he 'd stay at a, hotel for a week instead of re- turning to his rooming house. He 'd done it every spring for the last nine years-He despised spring house cleaning. He remembered that his landlady had begun it that morning. Yessir-the beatin' of a rug will start the Faver: Shampoo, Mister Tinker? Bing shook his head. ' Try this dandruff cure? Bing shook his head. Ye 'd better, Mister Tinker, yer bald spots a growin' in towards yer noble brow. VV-w-what! exclaimed Bing. Even the assassination of President McKinley had not brought forth such an utterance. Casey, who had taken Hie shampoo bottle in his hands as he pressed his query, almost dropped it on the floor. Such an emotional exclamation from Bing was more of a surprise to Casey than to hear of Boston winning the World's Series. Oi sezs, repeated Casey, that your crownin' beauty is a fallin' faster than th' rain in winter.

Page 28 text:

FOR TH' SAP WAS RUNNING 23 brain was in chaos-the first time in nine years. The Presiclefnt, Miss Rose, and some of the minor employees at the First National had been watching him. He knew it-he'd felt their eyes upon him. He won- dered if any of them had seen IT, the bald spot, before he put his hat on. What if President Arthur hacl seen I T. What if he-of all men- knew that he, H. Cornelius Tinker was balcl. The very thought made Bing shudder. Henri took more cloves. Bing Tinker had left without touching his dessert. It was bad for the hair-at least Mammies had said it was. Bing could feel Henri's eyes upon him. He put on his hat. He fervently hoped that Henri would not tell. Still more fervently he wished that Henri 's piercing stare had not seen IT. .43 7 K1 59 3? Little Artie wants to see you. It was the office boy addressing him. W-What? asked Bing, fearfully. Little Artie. He 's waitin' in the officef, Heavens. He, President Arthur-of all men-had seen IT. What would he, Bing, do? What did old bald headed men do for a living when they were unfit to be cashiers in banks. Some old men sold shoe strings. Yes-that was it-he could at least survive. I-Ie'd face Hlittle Artie. The President was waiting for him. Bing entered the office and backed away from the President toward a chair. If Little Artie lzaclizft seen IT Bing resolved that he should not see it now. Tinker, have you laid aside a monthly sum to use in case of sick- ness? There! It was coming. Little Artie wanted to know if he had saved for a rainy day. He was positive his rainy day had come. But oh, how suddenly! Not even preceded by clouds. t'Yes, Mr. Arthur. A little each month. You'd go, I suppose-to a hospital in case of illness? ' Hospita1? Why Yes- ' 'Hospitals are expensive. That is true, Mr. Arthur. Tinker, why don't you marry? M-Marry? W-Why-I-I suppose because I'd never thought of it, Mr. Arthur. Little Artie was a man of few words. Think it over, Tinker. Yes-yes, to be sure. He 'd give it his immediate attention. That is all, Tinkerf, Bing backed from the office. He' could leap for joy-Little Artie had not mentioned IT. I Perhaps he hadn't even seein IT. .All the President wanted was for him to think about marrying. Certainly he'd do it if it was Presi- dent Arthur 's wish. Certainly he'd think of marrying. He 'd ask for the hand of Mrs. Swartz, his landlady. Certainly he ld marry Mrs. Siva-. No. No-he wouldiiit. Mrs. Swartz always did Spring house cleaning in April. NO-a thousand times no-he 'd not marry Mrs. Swartz. He 'd be d-d if he would. And that, coming from the mouth of H. Cornelius Tinker, meant that he wouldn't. t It was nearing three. Bing started to look at the clock. His wan- dering eye rested for a moment on a tiny strand of unruly hair which