Salina High School - Trail Yearbook (Salina, KS)

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Jean was sitting in her room thinking over the events of the day. she was called to the phone. When she answered the call, a boy’s voice asked, Say aren’t yon the girl that won the championship this afternoon? Well , I want you to be my guest at the Phi Gam party next week. You will, won’t you? Jean almost too surprised to speak, uttered a faint, Yes.” — Thelma Short JWp Wiit y neighbor’s wife is a suffragette of the Pankhurst tj pe m ■ Band an abominable disposition. It is a common occurrence. when her temper is raging somewhere in the neighbor- hood of 90 degrees centigrade for her to run her husband out of the house, and down the street as long as her strength will permit. She is about five normal feet high and equally broad. Her eyes slant in an easterly direction while her nose is in marked contrast with her other regular features. Upon entering the house the first sight that meets one’s eye is a tangled mass on the floor assuming the shape of two human forms, male and female. It is none other than my neighbor and his wife in physical competition for equal rights. The wife is on top welding a rolling pin like a butcher cutting elephant steak, while the husband is breathing slightly, already weak from the loss of blood. On the wall is a sign which reads, Peace on Earth, Good Will toward Men and Votes for Women”. — Vernon Brown Thirty

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during the week and had so many friends interested in herphning as Kitty had. Before Jean realized that they had been playing ten min- utes, the official called the first set 6-4 in favor of Jean. Jean had won the first set. No wonder, when running from the one side df the court to the other, she almost stumbled over Jack Lynn who was lying down on the grass near the net. Neither girl wanted to stop and rest and they immediately started playing the second set. Kitty having received advice and assurance from the side lines started playing with a vim. Jean seemed to be losing grip of herself. What was the matter with her arm? Was Kitty winningthis match? Jean used her ground strokes but they didn’t get the ball over the net. The referee called the set, 6-4 in favor of Kitty. A tie! ho would win the last deciding set? To be the champion of Fair- mont! I hat was Jean’s resolve as she went into the third set She served her balls so fast that Kitty could not strike them until too late. After Jean had won four games and Kitty three, Jean tried her new serve. After seiving ' the ball instead of waiting in her place for the return she ran up to the net. This move puzzled Kitty. She looked away from the ball at Jean and failed to return Kitty s serve. 1 he last game of the set was on. Jean was using her various ways of returning with success. Kitty tried to return the ball over Jean’s head but Jean quickly stepped back and struck the ball far out of Kitty’s teach. Love - fifteen,” announced the official. Again Jean ran to the net and struck the ball before it seem- ingly had left Kitty’s racket. ‘ ‘Love - thirty”. Kitty tried an under hand stroke. Jean blocked it sharply across the court. Love - forty ’ ’. Jean Monroe is the winner of the tennis tournament. Game 6 — 4. Jean and Kitty left the courts together, Jean’s arm around Kitty. Jean how did you do it?” Kitty asked. Say Jean, you come to our summer home this summer and we’ll finish this tennis until I’m satisfied. I told mother I was going to ask some girl and it’s going to be you. Won’t you come?” ‘Oh, I’d just love to, ’’answered Jean. That night while Twenty-nine

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“WE WON’T GO THERE ANYMORE!” ■ HE Senior hates sentimentality; that’s the reason why he 4 despises last looks, last words, last farewells, last kisses an d the like. Unfortunately he is a senior: he must take the farewell of high school. The other evening about five thirty he strolled in at the west door fora more or less valuable notebook. He entered the big quiet building with a smile in his eye and a whistle on his lips. Straight as an arrow he slide down the slick floor to his locker. Or. the way, he glimpsed into a few of the boy s lockers There was Woods, and not a thing in it but an old physics book, pretty much the worse for the wear. Several old copies of The Outlook” with Kirtland’s name more or less eligibly written on them, had fallen to the floor. His own notebook was not in the locker well maybe it was up in room 10 on The Habit table. It was at least worth looking for. Up the west stairs two steps at a time to the main floor. No- body in sight! Mr. Brooks’ office door was even closed no familiar bald and red head grinning at him from within. Kinda got on his nerves! In the domestic science room, he heard Mr. Reaser whistling away at “We’re Marching to Zion”. Jim Reaser might march to Zion if he wanted to but the Senior preferred to stay right there in that old D.S. room. He’d certainly had good times there. As he passed the chapel, he decided he wasn’t in such a hurry. In he stepped; up to his own seat he walked. Hm! he’d had his share of fun here. “What’s the matter with the team!” It certainly was fun to come to high school. But then of course one wouldn’t really want to come more than four years. If you had to leave, well you had leave; that was all. He left the chapel slowly! Slowly he walked up the steps. It certainly wasn’t his custom to walk slowly up stairs. He noticed the marks of footsteps on the stairs. He’d done his share of wear- ing them away. For four years, his freshmen crudities in the matt- er of stomping upstairs had been dwindling. He took a glance in at Miss Fones room, - clean as a new pin. That teacher certainly kept the cleanest desk in school and she was some patriot too, made Thirty-one