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

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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

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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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THE Beh ©@ POSSUM SOMEBODY get that choc olate drop out of the oy way quick,” yelled Kid Bodey lustily, “he’s blockin’ the traffic and we got to play ball. Teddy, run him out.” et A wiry, dust covered negro scrambled up and dashed for the offender, who was sitting serenely on first base, munching a large apple, oblivious of the commotions he was causing. When Bodey, the camp leader, yelled at anyone he usually moved; hut Possum refused to budge until drageed off by Teddy to the corner, where he sat weeping bitterly, while the interrupted game proceeded under the tyranous direction of Bodey. Possum was a small black waif, whose life in the Aid Camp was made miserable by the other fellows because he was not there for any wrong doing, which accounted for the presence of the others. “Turner’s rag doll,” “Camp Pet” were the terms they used to tease him. These things rankled in the heart of the little outcast as he sat in the hot sun. He suddenly sat up and smeared the tears across his face with a dirty little hand and looked for Bodey, while his black face twisted with anger. Across the y yard Bodey was sit- ting on the head of a prostrate form. He had wearied of baseball and was finding amusement in pulling Teddy’ s hair and hearing him yell. How could he get even? He couldn’t sit on Bodey and pull his hair, or even push him into the corner while he played ball. Bodey was too big, and besides ey eryone was afraid of Bodey. No one would help the “little black Angel.” If only he could get some of the camp on his side. He dragged a much chewed stump of a pencil and a ragged note book out of his pocket, and began making aimless markings, which showed how angry he was. Finally he Deegan to sketch B dey and eddy. As he sketched he forgot his anger and his dusty fingers worked swiftly. Several times he had to hide his work, for inquisitive fellows kept poking up to see sum was writing to his mamma.’ if. Pos: shrill whistle sounded and the bi vs instantly stopped every- thing to race into line. Bodev gave one last wrench to the black wool in front of him and tore off. leaving his victim, to scramble up and rush after him. “Boys, Mr. Boyd is here with us today to visit the camp and become acquainted with some of you,” Mr. Turner said, introducing a stout man with large elasses and twinkling eyes. “Show him the