Polytechnic High School - Caerulea Yearbook (Long Beach, CA)

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l 6 CAERULEA 20 We! Wei I thought resentfully. Why doesn't he speak for himself? I think she might have. sent her old money without com- ing out here bothering us all to death. Mother and I heard their footsteps on the porch. Mother smoothed down a stray lock of my hair, and gave a tug at my plain blue serge dress. The door creaked. Mother gave my hair another little pull. The door opened. Mother ran her fingers vigorously thru my long-suffering hair, making it stand out Uather wildly I fearecD. Aunt Emma entered and I gasped as I saw her and imagined my dreamed-of gay years at Stanford slipping away. Her hair 0h: first thing I noticody was drawn straight back and was crowned by a severely plain beaver hat. Her shoes were squarehtocd and flat- heeled. Her dress was perfectly straight and untrimmed. How do you do, my clears P 5112 said brightly, and is this my little Katherine? Well, well! I knew right from the start that you are. an unusual girl, she continuzd calmly. And that hairll Yes, that hair! I thought. THAT hint Will finish all my hopesl . Of all ways of combing hair I ever saw. continued my eccen- tric aunt, II consider Dutch cut the mostFeh-the most sensible, my dear. Let me see, was it Stanford you wish to attend? Well, yes. Stanford. You shall go there. Such a nice sensible girl as you are-I could tell the iirst instant I saw you, my dear. Beauty sacrtliced for comfort and case! And that is remarkable in one so young. And now, my dear Clara, she went on, turning to my aston- ished mother, Hhow have you been and what are you doing for the great Woman's Movement?

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LITERARY 5 4- ment for breath, leaving me overcome with awe of the strange being that was to invade our peaceful home; and then she rushed on. And, Katherine, what are we to do with your hair? Ilm afraid if she. finds you following that silly style she will be disgusted and give her money to some one elseeand then there is your college education gone! Oh! this awful hair, I cried as I ran my hand wildly thru the stubble that remained on my head. Why did I do it? Oh, Mother, if I Can't go to Stanford I'll die! fust die! I cried as my dream faded for the second time. Hush! Hushl Come in here and let's see if we can't do some thing with the stuff, Mother soothed. For an hour we worked, trying to twist up the stubbly ends- striving to fasten on a little wad of my former hair Jthieh effort al- ways ended by the wad's falling off on the floor and by distributing hair neatly over Mother's dark dressywr even trying to tie a ribbon about my head, thus hiding the offending hair. At last I gave it up, but not until Mother had thoroly squelched my last suggestion, that I wear a wig, by declaring. No daughter of mine shall ever be seen with hair that is not her own. Dad leit at seven with the machine in which to bring the de- cider of my fate as I put it. Mother and I, who had remained at home ostensibly to add the last finishing touches to the supper that we had delayed because of our visitor, spent those precious minutes in smoothing my hair and striving desperately to make me appear sensible. We could not decide which would be best-to have it smooth and close to my head tsensible, but, alas! horribly unbecom- ingy or fluffy and blowing about. It looks silly any way you do it, Katherine. What on earth did you cut it for P cried Mother desperately. I give it up 1 Just then we heard the car stop and Dads voice saying cheerily, Welcome home, Emma. May you enjoy your visit as much as we shall!

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LITERARY MY KINGDOM Eva Richardson '20 Musing tonight, my memory strays, Back to my childhood home; And I wonder who's wading my streams. And roaming where I used to roam. I wonder who's climbing my flovfring hills So high, so straight, so steep! And Pd like to know whds fishing now, In my river so wide and deep. I wonder whose youthful laughter Shrills on the wildwood air, If his feet which tread my moist brown earth Like mine used to be, are. bare. Who's using my 01' swim hole? Or climbing my whisp'ring tree? Now what fellow is walking my woods. Seeing what I used to see? Who's picking my dcw-kisscd blueberries. Feasting on them today? Is he chasing the birds and squirrels That I used to tease in my play? I wonder who rules my boyhood kingdom Back in the fragrant pine; He may hold it today or tomorrow- In mcm'ry Twill always be minel