Pennell Institute - Whirlpool Yearbook (Gray, ME)

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THE PENNELL arranged to call at 8.15 P. M., but he had found no one at home. Soon after his arrival Capt. Gould found his way to the side of Mr. Lowrey. ‘‘Weleome to our town,’’ said Mr. Gould. ‘'‘How’s the family?’’ ‘Fine, thank you,’’ replied Mr. Lowrey. “T see Bruce Jr. is looking pretty well this year. JI suppose he’ll bring Beatrice Mason over tonight.’’ ‘ Well, I thought he had planned on it but I saw her come in with her folks.”’ The next morning when Bruee entered the dining room he found his father who announced that the ladies had gone out for the day. After ecat- ing the meal in silence, they left the table. ; “Seems to me you have been pretty mum for a fellow who’s raved over that dance for a month. Got sick of it pretty quickly didn’t you?’’ suggested Mr. Lowrey. “Yes! What’s the program for to- day?’’ “‘T am going to run up to the city. Want to come along?’’ “ No, guess I'll put in the day here.”’ “Good luck to you, son,’’ were Mr. Lowrey’s parting words. At six o’clock after a tiresome day Bruce threw down the novel he had b een trying to read and decided to go down to the dam, in the motor boat, to see the beautiful sunset. Absorbed in deep thought, he had been drifting in the cove at the left of the dam for a long time after the sun had gone down, when he became aware of a very pretty picture before WHIRLPOOL him. Beatrice was passing through the path of moonlight in her canoe. The faee that he saw was sweet, refined, and delicate; and he marveled at its beauty in spite of his late reso- lutions. Tle was also in the path of moonlight but she ignored him and passed on toward the dam, going straight toward the sluice which was hidden in the shadows. She was within a few rods of it when Bruee, realizing her danger, called to her to stop. Again she ignored him, pad- dling straight forward, and wondering for what absurd reason he was giving her orders. ‘‘Miss Mason, please turn to your right, you’re going into that sluice’’, repeated Bruce anxiously. But before she could grasp his mean- ing, the eanoe was eaught in the eur- rent and swept forward with a shock that wrenched the useless paddle from her hands. The motor boat shot across the current just in back of the canoe and she was pulled into the boat. Bruce swung the boat around toward home and settled down at the wheel. Tt was she who broke the silence. ‘You were just In time. I want to thank you, Mr. Lowrey.’’ she said. “Never mind the Mr.’’, was the short reply. “But you ealled me Miss’’, she an- swered. “T thought you wished it from your attitude last night.’’ “Yes, I was just wondering how you got around so soon tonight. Rather unusual, wasn’t it ?’’ “May be, but I make it a point to be on time,’’ he replied unconcernedly. “You do!’’ she said indignantly.

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THE PENNELL WHIRLPOOL 7 NEIGHBOR’S HENS ‘ ‘O what foolish things hens are! They ain’t got the sense they was born with.”’ Did you ever see a hen that knew enough to stay at home, unless it was fenced in by a ten foot wire fenee? Why, sometimes they even fly over that, although they are not as a rule consid- ered of the flying variety. You often see a flock of hens leisurely crossing the road. There is an old riddle, “‘ Why does a hen always cross a road?’’ The answer is: ‘‘Beeause she can’t go around,’’? but I should say the answer really is beeause she doesn’t know enough to stay where she belongs. Imagine for a minute an ordinary seene. A motorist who is in a hurry has to slow up to allow a fleek of hens, that seem to think they have the right of way, to pass in front of him. Prob- ably the man’s language would not be proper to record. I hardly blame the man, for, although hens give the appear- ance of hurrying, their legs are too short to carry them very fast. If one of these hens by any chance happens to get under the wheel, its value, altho it was rather low while life remained, takes a sudden rise, when transformed into a corpse. No matter how inviting the hen’s own garden, the one across the street or the one next door is much more enticing. Well that’s ‘‘hen sense’’. Tens always seem to think that what the other person has, no matter how poor it may be, is better than their own. I suppose worms are bigger and juicier in some places than in others but I’m sure it wouldn’t make any difference to me and I wish it didn’t to hens. It certainly is pleasant to plant a garden or sow grass seed and have the neighbor’s hens come hunting for worms that probably, ten times out of twelve, don’t prove any better than those at home. To me, hens have no beauty or charm. I can’t follow the example of a little girl who kept hens and had a name for every one. She knew them all by name too. One day when a visitor asked her how she told them apart, she answered, ‘‘ By their pretty little faees’’. Well I guess the only satisfactory hen on earth is one on a platter in a sea of gravy with islands of dumplings float- ing all around. Those certainly cause no trouble unless you are to blame for being greedy. Elizabeth S. White, 1928 DAYLIGHT SAVING One pleasant June evening found the main road of the large summer resort, Lake Wood, thronged with a gay procession. It was the night of the dance at the Greens, members of the summer colony who had just moved into their new cottage, ‘‘A regular mansion,’’ as Capt. Daniel Gould called it. Capt. and Mrs. Gould were among the select few of the town’s people invited. Among the many ears going in that direction was a fine looking sport Buick. The occupant of this ear, Bruce Lowrey, looked very down- hearted, not as a young college man, son of a New York banker, should look when starting for a dance. Te had just ealled at the Mason Cottage to get Beatrice, for whom he had

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THE PENNELL WHIRLPOOL ““Yes.’’ “ T suppose—last night for instanee.” “T was at your home at 8.15.”’ “‘You were not’’, she said eurtly. “T was unless my watch is on the bum.’’ He takes out his wateh, ‘‘It is just 7.32 now, isn’t it?”’ ““No,’? she faltered looking at her wrist wateh, ‘‘It is just 8.32, but don't you see?”? “T see. Daylight Saving !”’ After expressing their views on Day- light Saving time and a number of they started home to announcement which other things. the many had been waiting. J. Winnifred Cobb, 1928 make for THE RESULT OF MOONSHINE WHISKEY One fine winter afternoon about twenty-seven o'clock in the year nine- teen hundred half past two, with the thermometer registering 204° above zero, a tall, lanky, old woman took his way across the frozen Atlantie to the land of Egypt in Norway. She imme. diately knocked on the door of the king’s palace on Wall Street and, as no one answered the bell, he stepped on the roof and jumped across to Asia Minor by the way of China and the Dead Sea. One of the ancient Babylonians took her around to see the Klondike gold mines which are noted for their fine cut glass. Then they went to the hanging garden of Babylon, which immediately came unhung after they entered and, as there was a high wind, they were blown to the North Pole. The Babylonian, not accustomed to the terrific heat, which became intense as they neared the pole, perished. A native Eskimo was mueh inter- ested in the old lady and took him out to see the numerous palm trees and vineyards. Having seen enough of the North Pole, the lady sent to Charles Williams Stores to get a fur coat so that she could visit the Equator. When the dear old lady reached his destination, the thermometer was down to absolute zero, so she sent to the Duteh East India Co. to get some more furs. He marveled mueh at the natives that were running around naked. After this exciting vacation she wanted to return to his home in the good old U.S. A. II. Norman Cole, 1928 FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND Plaee: A summer resort on a lake in Northern Maine. Time: In the summer of 1920. Rich people from all over the New England and Middle Atlantic States were spending their summer there. Cast: Mrs. Nelson, a millionaire from New York. Eva Nelson, her eighteen year old daughter. Her only occupation is beau catching. Jim Bel- den, one of Eva's beaus, a detective. John Stone, Eva’s latest attraction. Johnathan Fliech, the owner of the hotel. Act I Scene I Place: The reading room of the hotel. The room eontains arm chairs