Providence Technical High School - Review Yearbook (Providence, RI)

Page 85 text:

1928 THE TECH REVIEW 81 SNAPPY FOLK Q FTTY WILL CONQUER THE CHANNEL NO DOUBT IS Th FRIEND TINY ?? E PRESIDENT MVR CARLTON POPULAR YOL NG- ANO THER TECH' KNlfrHT AL CUSHMAN ■'Zf'Jr ft UiKY FLYNN

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80 THE TECH REVIEW 1928 SNAPPY rOLK cuair e A 5 A PRINCESS DAGMAR £m NEW ▼ COMET? ESTHER CARROLL Tnt CLASS LEADING MUSICIAN lady- Rl 5MIL IN 1 THRU TECh ELLEN CARLSON u TECH- BOUND” INEZ GEBHARD NO, NOT THE PR IMCE OF WALES BUT -couoopus- YES, »W barbieIrT PADDLESV HER OWN CANOE AGAIN V WE HAVE KITTY CAHIR WE'RE GLAD TO SEE YOU'RE BACK AGA N, DON ELEANORA D.

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82 THE TECH REVIEW 1928 “All's Well That Ends Well” By Donald S. Jones ’28 A cuckoo in a clock on the wall cuckoed eleven times, and then exhausted by its efforts returned to the innermost corner of its domicile to rest for another hour. A mass of bed clothes heaved as a thatch of brown hair emerged therefrom. A door opened and closed admitting an immaculately clad valet who strode re- solutely toward the bed with a light of battle in his eye. He sighed as he pulled the bedclothes hack; his daily troubles were about to begin. He seized the sleep- er’s shoulders and shook them forceably. The recipient of these ministrations opened one eye and muttered unintelligi- bly. At the opening of the eye, Eustace, the valet assumed that professional at- titude of aloof indifference and before the sleeper had time to utter further re- marks he began in the tone of a judge sentencing a prisioner. “Sorry Sir to disturb you, but your uncle, so he in- formed me, wishes your presence before he starts on his round of golf.” This announcement was met with an- other grunt which might have meant anything. Neverless, the accused having received his judgment slowly disentang- led himself from the remaining bed- clothes and laboriously rose to his feet. Eustace with a steadying hand led the sentenced one through a door into a bath- room and then returned to the bedroom listening to the sounds of splashing water. I will not attempt, at this time to dis- cribe the splasher for a man is never at his best upon rising. However bis name is Wilbur Ogden Merryweather. His uncle, with whom he lived called him Will. His aunt called him Ogden, the servants called him Mr. Wilbur and what the store boy called him is unprintable. We shall leave Wilbur in his bath and opening the door, the one Eustace came in, pass down the richly furnished hall to an- other door, open it, and walk in. The room is handsomely furnished and identi- fies itself as a library by the rows of books that fill the many shelves. A man is seated at a desk; he has a cigar clenched between his teeth; his iron grey hair falls across his temples; his face speaks charac- ter and determiniation and his qigars speaks money as he suddenly reaches for a fresh one and glares at the partly smok- ed one which he throws away. Sherlock Holmes .and possibly even Dr. Watson had they been present would have de- ducted that he had something on his mind. He was on his sixth cigar when Wilbur, still in the custardy of Eustace entered. The smoker glanced up and dismissed Eustace who was hovering expectantly in the offing. “Morning Uncle Charley,” said Wil- bur dejectedly. “Hullo Will, sit down,” Will did so. The sixth cigar wilted under Uncle Charlies steady glare as it was dropped into the ash tray with its brothers only to be replaced by the seventh. Soon the eighth followed. It was as if Wilbur was in for a long distance cigar glaring exhibition as neither spoke. Wilbur how- ever was satisfied. Eustace was not there to hound him. With this happy thought in mind he skillfully snapped a crumb of his breakfast toast from his lapel with his fingers. I always try to be fair and I think this is a fair time to describe my bero. A girl, I think might characterize him with that simple word “nice but I should