Santa Rosa High School - Echo Yearbook (Santa Rosa, CA)

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One mornirg, as a group of fellows were cleaning their guns, the mail orderly arrived with the mail from home. To Jim he handed a rather fat letter, addressed in writing which he instantly recognized; a letter from Francis! Jim had received but few letters in his life, and this was the first rea! letter he had ever read- Francis humbly apologized for being so bold as to send the card with the name and address, but it had been done on a dare. The letter went on to tell of all that was happening at school. It seemed that lrancis was a senior in high school, baseball season was just about to open and Francis hoped to make the team as pitcher. Then she told Jim she would like to know what he locked like, and if possible she would like to have a “snap” of him. At the end were a few new jckes which had appeared in the last issue of the school paper. On the whole, it was a jolly, “good friend” letter, and convinced Jim that perhaps he had had, up to this time, a rather perverted idea of the fair sex. Since you might be interested in “how Jim looked,” too, here is an extract from his letter to Francis: “I’m just a big, tali, clumsy fellow, with red hair; the enclosed ‘snap’ tells you more than I could’ The enclosed “snap” was a picture of a tall, well built fellow in uniform, not handsome, but having a very cheery smile, and you could almost see his eyes twinkle. Concerning personal description, however, Francis was just’ as meager in reply: “I’m tall, toc, only my hair is brown, and I have blue eye s. I won't send you a picture, for I fear you will be dis- appointed and will stop writing to me, and you really can’t imagine how I enjoy the comradeship of your iclly letters.” And so, in the following months, they carried on an animated correspondence and their friendship grew. At last, orders came to advance. Jim’s company was to move ap and occupy the front line trenches. The boys all rejoiced; how glad they were to be on the move and in the fight! A few days later, after Jim’s company had gloriously gone “over the top,” Jim was found in a shell hole by the stretcher bearers. He was uncon- scious and horribly wounded. As soon as it was possible, he was transported to the dressing station; thence to the base hospital. There, in December, he underwent a serious operation, and, thanks to the skill of the surgeon, and to his own wonderful vitality and will power, he was soon on the road to recovery. s he was lying listlessly on his cot, dreaming idly, an orderly appeared with a box and a letter. These he left by the bedside. Jim’s face brightened; a letter and a box from Frances! It was a Christmas box, and indeed it was full of Christmas cheer. There was a sprig of holly tied with a bright scarlet ribbon, a book, a silver pencil with his initia!s engraved on it, some wonderful cookies. and some powerfully good home-made candy. And that letter, how

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riba DHE; eeiCiH © WAR SOCKS IM SAT THERE, moodily staring at them. They were a fine looking pair of socks, a fine pair! Why, he could knit as well as that, he was sure. Tiow all the dropped stitches had passed the critical eve of the inspector was a mystery to him. flowever, he concluded, there was nothing to be gained by sitting there looking at them, at the same time just about freezing to death; so he sighed heavily, and started to put one on. As he did so, a small card fell to the ground floor of the bunkhouse. Ie stooped and picked it up- It was an engraved calling card bearing the name, “Francis M. Palmer,” and below it was scribbled in a rather bold tiand: “This is my first pair, so please overlook the various original stitches and knots.’ Turning the card over, he found: ‘538 Lowell avenue, Mayfield, Caiifornia,” in the saine handwriting. As he read the card his face softened and broke into a charming 5 smile, then he threw back his head and laughed long and loud. “Well,” he said, in a pleasant voice, to his shoes as he laced them, “so this is her first pair. I suppose I shall have to write to Miss Francis and thank her-” That evening, ina Y. M. C.A. hut, he sat at a desk, with writing paper before him; should he, or should he not? All the other fel- iows in his company corresponded with girls at home, so why shouldn't he? But still, they were all fellows who had had many gir! friends all their lives: but he, he had always avoided them. There were no girls in the office where he had worked, and none at the boarding house where he had boarded. The only feminine personage he was acquainted with, or interested in, had been the stout, good-natured Mrs. O’Leary, his landlady. But this girl was, no doubt, expecting an answer, and he would not disappoint her. Taking up a pen he wrote a brief, business- like note of thanks, signed: “Respectfully, Sgt. James C- Lawton, . E. F., France,’ and dismissed the matter from his mind. The following weeks were spent in drilling and intensive train- ing; but the boys were becoming restless, they wanted a change; they hadn’t come six thousand miles to drill; they could do that at home; they came over to fight, and if they didn’t get a chance to do so soon, they vowed they weuldn’t be responsible for their actions. 27

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THE ECHO good it made him feel! After the excitement was over, he lay there thinking: Francis was certainly the best friend he had ever had. What wouldn't he give to see her and teil her how much good her letter and box had done and how—well, anyway, he resolved then and there to go to see her as soon as he got back in the States. Several months later, in the spring-—and spring in Mayfield is the most beautiful time of the year—Jim, limping slightly, walked slowly down Lowell avenue, in the shade of the blooming locust trees. He stopped in front of a large, aristocratic looking house, surrounded by a well kept garden. Yes, this was it; there was the number on the porch pillar, 538 With his heart pounding sc he feared it would jump out of place, Jim straightened his shoulders, mounted the low broad stone steps and rang the bell. A precise maid opened the door. Jim presented his card, and asked to see “Miss Francis Palmer.” The maid smiled, and said: “Francis is in the living room, sir.” “Oh, Jim! Is it really you?” This in full, deep tones from the living room: Approaching, Jim said. “Yes, Fran—I, oh——” and stopped, speechless; for there in the center of the room stood a tall, healthy school boy with brown hair, and blue eyes. “I’m Francis,” he said, smiling. “What were you going to say?” “Nothing,—except that I—-that is, you know—oh, well, that | certainly enjoved your letters. and I came to tell you how much good they have done me.” With this, im turned on his heel and started out. “Hey! wait! Don’t leave so soon. I know it was a beastly trick to play, but you know, vou really did it all—with vour imag- ination. Every word I wrote was the truth. Of course. the socks put you on the wrong track, but still, it seems to me, that any sane man would realize that no one but a boy could have made such a mess as they were-” “That’s so.”—in a dull, lifeless voice. “Td never have kept it up if it hadn’t been for Sis. She really took the matter into her own hands after the first few letters, and dictated all the rest; she fixed the Christmas box, too. I think 1 hac better call her and iet her explain fully. Bob! Oh, Barbara!” EMGESa Pranks: “C’m on down stairs.” “Really, Jim, she’s a jolly good sport and——” Just then an attractive, mischievous looking girl came in: Francis, taking Jim by the’ arm, said, “Jim, this is my sister Barbara, and I know you'll like her heaps.” Plunging his hands deep into his pockets, Francis made his exit, whistling ‘““The End of a Perfect Day.” of a Perfect Day.” Verrel Weber, ‘18. 29