North Quincy High School - Manet Yearbook (North Quincy, MA)

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14 MANET chum, and Chris went oif looking for Margie. The day passed uneventfully, except when Nicki ruined a scene by trying to knock Chris out and Chris replied by turning his brother over his kneeiand spanking him, Five o'clock, and a thunder shower was com- ing up. Chris and Nicki stood outside the studio gates waiting for the Prince. Chris looked up at the dark threatening sky, and, as an ominous growl of thunder sounded, looked down at his little brother. He suddenly felt fraternal. How about a soda, Nicki ? he asked. Nicki grinned. Lead me to it! he exclaimed. Right, said Chris, and they started across the broad boulevard. At this moment it was practically deserted. A big car came rolling along and slowed down beside them. A man in the front seat leaned out. Are you Chris Thorpe? he asked, in a rough voice. VVhy, yes. answered Chris, puzzled. 'tYou're wanted at police headquarters, said the man, flashing a badge. A fellow was brought in and he had something of yours. You 're needed to identify it. Something of mine? said Chris. brows knitted. t'iVhy, I don 't know-.H You'd better go, Chris, said Nicki at his elbow. HAH right, said Chris. 'tl suppose l'd better. But you stay here and tell the Prince. He started to climb in, but Nicki saw some- thing that Chris didn 't. the glint of a revolver in the stranger 's hand. Nicki shouted a warn- ing and jumped onto the running board, but a rough hand knocked him off, and he was sitting in the middle of the boulevard looking after the receding car. A policeman came running, and to him Nicki told his hectic story. Chris had been kidnapped. k ' Ten minutes later, Nicki, seated between a couple of policemen in a speeding car, related the story. There was more than one car out. It was raining furiously and was already dark. and Nicki shivered from fear and cold. Speed- ing along a dark narrow road arched over by trees, the car suddenly slowed down, ,gave several snorts, and promptly died. The police- man at the wheel uttered several choice epithets, and Nicki said, I'll go up to this house and get some water if you wa11t me to. All right, said the sergeant. You men get out and look around. Nicki started up a rough path bordered by bushes, with a flash- light. He fell down once or twice and bruised his bare knees, but kept on. Suddenly, on the steps before the house, the ray of the flashlight fell upon something lying there. Nicki's heart gave a great start, for it was the ivory paper knife. He picked it up gingerly and put it in his pocket. Then Chris was in there! With his heart thumping furiously, he rangethe bell. There was a deep silence, broken only by the sound of rain. Suddenly the big door was opened, a11d a maid looked at him suspiciously. l'd like some water for a car, he said, hoping she wouldn't perceive his fright. 'tOh, come in, she said. Nicki went in, and sat uncomfortably on the edge of a chair. He looked about. and saw what he was looking for, a confusion of wet footprints on the stairs. He looked about for a minute and then steadily crept up the big stair-case, looking around at each step. He was terribly frightened. He tracked the footprints to a door upstairs, and with his hand on the knob looked around the dimly lighted corridor with apprehension, then he slowly opened the door. But within there was just a barely furnished room, and there the footprints vanished, and there was someone coming. With one bound, he was across the room and pulling at the casement window. Escape was his only motive. A flash of light- ning illumined the garden below, it was a long way, but he climbed out onto the trellis and started down. He fell half the way, and got up stilily, 'il could have picked a softer place, he observed, and then began to walk about the house. lt was a long way, but he went steadily, and quietly 'til he came to' a window from which issued a faint glimmer. 'A quick survey with his light showed a window seat with heavy hangings beyond. He climbed in ,as quietly as he could and peeped through the curtains. What he saw made him draw back. quickly. For there was a man sitting at at desk, back to him, and sitting before him was Chris. Chris face was white and his nervous fingers drummed a devil tattoo on the arms of his chair. ' W 'tStop that drumming, said the man, f'And come over here. I want you to write a note to 7 .' your parents., ' A A Chris obeyed l1l111,E:lI1Cl sat at the desk. The man gave him pen and paper. Write a note,l' he said, f'And ask for thirty thousand dollars. Read it aloud to me as you write it. Nicki strained his ears to hear Chris' voice. His voice came low and steady. I'1l write to my brother. He can get the money and not tell my parents. 'Dear Nicki', he wrote slowly, 'Take this note and my bank book and draw thirty thousand dollars. Don't tell Dad and Mother. Signed Christobal Johann Thorpe'. Nicki 's heart leaped. Chris had signed the wrong name! Smart Chris! Then Nicki saw his opportunity. The man's back was toward him. Very well ! Nicki moved out steadily and suddenly brought down the loaded handle of the paper knife on the ma.n's head. With a groan he slumped forward, and Chris jumped up. t'Nicki! he cried. Sh! Sh ! cautioned Nickil Come quickly I

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13 MANET Hazel Borne THE IVORY PAPER KNIFE Beverly Hills, the ho1ne of the silver screen stars, lay simmering in the heat of a. summer 's morning. A dog barked piercingly somewhere, a lawnmower whirred in the distance, and a few high-powered cars whizzed by on the road- way. The sun poured down from a brilliantly blue sky, and a locust sang in a eucalyptus tree that hardly stirred in a faint warm breeze. Spread over a lounge chair, on a cool ver- anda was a boy. He was immaculately attired in white shorts, and through half-closed eyes he surveyed the stretch of green lawn with its white crescent of drive and its big trees. The toe of one of his black and white sport shoes thumped on the tiles with irritating regularity. Aside from that he was entirely still, and on the whole, conveyed the impression that he was either a permanent invalid or a person ex- hausted by heat. Suddenly, inside the house, a telephone jangled loudly. The boy didn't move. The gardener, on his knees among the roses. mopped his perspiring brow, and looked toward the boy. You'd best be after answering that there telephone, Master Nicki, he said. He bore the imposing name of Fyodor Pakinovitch, tho' he spoke with a thick Irish voice. ' Nicki sighed languidly. Oh, all right, tho' it's probably for Chris, he said, and arose slowly, and went towards the door. The tele- phone was growing more insistent as he went. Hello,'7 he said, in a dying voice.i Oh, Chris?-I'll call him! Oh-oh, no, anything for you, Margief, He shouted up the stairs. 4'Oh, Chris! Margie 's on the 'phone! An irate voice floated down, 'cTell her to hold the line! I'm not dressed! That's all right, Nicki assured him. '4She says come just as you are! I can 't, cried Chris, I'1n in the shower. Nicki returned to tl1e telephone. Hello, Margie, Chris says to hold the line-hels tak- ing a shower, that's the noise you hear. He 's awfully noisy. No, that's the lawnmowerf' At that moment nineteen year old, blond, Chris dashed down the stairs. Give me that, you imp! He grabbed the 'phone, where upon Nicki retired into the library to gleefully jiggle the hook of that 'phone up and down, to the indignation of Chris., we LITERARY 919' Fifteen minutes later, a big car was gliding through Beverly Hills, with Nicki sitting be- side the chauffeur, who also bore a Russian name, and who was reputed to be the son of the late Czar of Russia. Certainly, in his dark and handsome face, there was all the pride of the Romanoffs, and he wore his chauffeur's uniform as a prince might wear his. The Thorpes ran their household with Russian serv- ants, at least, those with Russian names. Nicki's real name was Nikolai, but his screen public knew him as Nicki Thorpe. Chris's middle name was Alexovitch, but he never told anyone. Chris was vainly trying to say something, and Nicki, who had installed a siren on the car, rang it every time he heard Chris' voice. At last he stopped and kneeling on the cushions, looked over the back of the seat at his brother. VVhat's this? asked Chris, holding up an object. Its a paper knife, replied Nicki. An ivory one, I bought it the other day. It cost five dollars. t'VVhat do you want a paper knife for? queried Chris. t'It's awfully heavy.'7 The handle was heavily carved in relief, with oriental figures. It seemed to be loaded. ' UI don 't want it. said Nicki. You can have it. 'fWhat would I want it for? said Chris, but nevertheless he put it in his pocket. You shouldn't waste your money on foolish things. You might need that five dollars some dayfl 'fHey, Chris, said Nicki after a few minutes' silence. VVhat did Margie have to say? None of your business, retorted Chris, flushing. Never mind, said Nicki, I know any- way. Look here, said Chris. I don 't, like you. The Doctor said to me 'Chris' you've been blessed by a little brother,' I thought I was then, but now I know I was cursed. How long did it take you to think that one up? flashed Nicki, 4'Did you ever think how I felt when I first looked at you? VVell, I felt positively nauseated! He slid around front again and chattered into the Crown Prince's ear all the rest of the way. At the studio Nicki paired off with his bosom

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MANET 15 They went through the window, post haste! VVait a minute, said Chris. Take this car. They climbed in and luckily it started easily. Rolling along the road, Nicki told of what happened. Gosh, said Chris, my own brother. He put one arm around Nicki. Guess I can drive with one hand. You've had experiencef' said Nicki. After a short while he said, Chrisl Aren't you glad that I bought that paper knife, and wasted that money? And isn't spending five dollars for that better than spending thirty thousand on kidnappers?'7 You bet! said Chris heartily. Elizabeth Ogilvie, 10-6. FORGOTTEN All ready for school at last. I said. It isn't very long since I was in bed. Have I everything that I need. Pencils. pens. and a book to read 'I Halfway to school was I this morning' IVhen it came to me all of a dawning That I had left my French at home. Now wasn't that enough to make you groan? Ethel Little, I 0-T. A MID-SUMMER NIGI-lT'S SCREAM T'was a dark, rainy night. At intervals lightning iiashed across the sky, followed by loud peals of thunder. All was quiet in the yard. Then an ear-piercing shriek was heard by the occupants of the house. A light ap- peared in a window. A dark form flitted from a tree to the house. A key grated in the lockg a door opened and Mrs. Maloney let the cat in. Edmund Rioux, 8-8. WHAT THE LITTLE GIRL SAID Mas upstairs changing her dress,', said the freckle-faced little girl tying her doll's bonnet strings while looking about the room for a piece of cloth large enough to serve as a scarf for that double-,jointed article, Oh, your mother needn't dress up for me, said the female agent of the missionary society, taking a last self-satisfied view of herself in the mirror. t'Run up and tell her to come down just as she is, in her everyday clothes. Oh, but she is11 't in her everyday clothes. Ma was all dressed up in her new brown silk 'cause she expected Miss Dimmond today. Miss Dimmond always comes over here to show her nice things off and Ma doesn't mean to get left. But-whenshe saw you coming she said 'The dickens,' and I guess she was mad about something. Ma said if you saw her new dress, she 'd have to hear all about the poor heathen, who don't have silk, and youid ask her for money for hymn books to send to lem. Say, do the nigger ladies use hymn bookleaves to do their hair up on and make it frizzy? Ma says she guesses that's all the good the books do 'em -if they ever get any books. I wish my dolly was a heathen. VVhy you wicked little girl! Vklhat do you want with a heathen doll? asked the mis- sionary lady, taking a mental inventory of the new things in the parlor to get material for a little talk on world extravagance. So folks would send her nice things to wear, and feel sorry for her when she was naked. Then she 'd have hair to frizz, and I want a doll with real eyes that roll up like Deacon McSmidges' when he says 'Amen' on Sunday. l ain't a wicked girl, either, 'cause Uncle Dick -you know Vncle Dick don 't you? He 's been out West and swears awful and smokes in the house-he says l'm a holy terror and he hopes l'll be an angel pretty soon. Mall be down in a minute so you needn't take your things off. She said she'd box my ears if I asked you to. Ma 's putting on that old dress she had last year, 'cause she didn't want you to think she could give much this year, and she needed a new hat worse than tl1e queen of the cannon ball islands needed religion. Uncle Dick says you orta get to the islands 'cause you'd be safe there, and the natives would be sorry they were such sinners. Anybody would send you to 'em. He says he's never seen a heathen hungry enough to eat you, 'less it was a blind one, and you'd set a blind pagans teeth on edge so he wouldn't want any more missionaries. Uncle Dick 's awful funny and makes ma and pa die laughing sometimes. t'Your l'ncle Richard is a wicked man, and ought to have stayed out YVest where his kind is appreciated. He sets a very poor example for a little girl like you. 'tOh I think he's nice, he showed me how to slide down the banisters, and he 's teaching me to whistle with my fingers when ma ain't around. That's a pretty coat you have. Do you buy all your clothes with missionary money? Ma says you do. Just then, fortunately, and not a minute too soon, the freckle-faced little girl ma came into the parlor and put an end to this very enlight- ening conversation. She kissed the missionary lady on the cheek and told her she was de- lighted to see her, and they proceeded to have a very sociable chat. The little girl 's ma can't understand why a person who brags about being so charitable as the missionary agent does, should go right over to Miss IJIIIIIHOIICIQS and say such ill-natured things as she did and she thinks the missionary is a double-faced gossip. Marguerite Knowles, 10-1.