Scituate High School - Chimes Yearbook (Scituate, MA)

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THE CHIMES 9 snap. After whole-heartedly placing all blame on the pencil and the pen- cil sharpener, he ambitiously starts the process again. During the second performance, Percival has even more interesting visions and cranks on indefinitely. Little does he realize that ambitious students are waiting impatiently their turn. It doesn ' t even occur to him that they think he is hogging said implement. A few loudly-spoken, sarcastic remarks fail to penetrate the film of deep purple fog that is so gently wafting around the head of Percival. But, what is this? An unpleasant thought mingling with those heaven- like ones? Could a sharp jab from a compass have this effect on Percival? It could and has. And so Percival, bearing a deep grudge for all not taking part in his imaginary world, goes back to his seat, to return to the practicalities of geometry. LUNCH TIME Gladys Whitney, ' 41 Listen, my children, and I shall tell. Of the noontime rush, when we hear the bell. Out of our chairs and onto the floor. Then a mad dash through the classroom door. Down the stairs and through the hall We ' ve discarded rules for the hunger call. At last we reach there, — hunt for a seat, Ah! We ' ve got one! Now, let ' s eat! A KNOTTY PROBLEM Thomas O ' Neil, ' 42 Insert a piece of strong, round linen into a steel cylinder with a cir- cular hole at its end. Then twist vigorously the thread at one end, and you are ready to begin. Push the pointed end of steel through the heavy cloth-like wearing apparel in the desired location. If it comes through successfully, without any casualties, slip the round piece of bone with openings onto the steel cylinder. Then, if you have a good sense of di- rection, keep pushing the steel through the coat. At the same time work in and out of the openings in the bone figure. When this has been done about twenty times, make at the end of the thread a few circular move- ments, commonly known as knots. If you have navigated successfully, you are a tailor; if not, you had better see one.

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8 THE CHIMES growled and yapped at him. People stared at him and poked their fingers through his eage. His whole appearance showed that he was miserable. The young girl beside him was trying to comfort him. Please, Barry, d;)n ' t look so dejected. You ' ve got to win! Barry raised his sad eyes but did nothing more. He wanted to go home. Nothing else mattered. He looked quite different from most dogs, not only more down-hearted, but more as if he understood the situation, under- stood that his mistress felt he wouldn ' t win. He was, perhaps, the largest of his class. His chest was broader, his jaw wider. He had all the good points of a winner. But the judges at present do not count the good old- fashioned points of a dog. They look for small feet and narrower heads. A passer-by noticed Barry and remarked: He ' s all right — but too old- fashioned. May get a third. But the girl wanted either the blue ribbon or none. She wished with all her heart that she had not brought Barry. Now the Saint Bernards were being called to the judging ring. Barry ' s mistress gave him one last brush and led him away with the others. Barry walked with his head down. His tail dragged on the ground. The girl guided him around the ring. Then she placed him in line with the other do . She saw the judge walk directly over to her. Will you please take your dog to the other side of the ring? he requested. He ' s in my way while I ' m judging. Poor Barry! All this trouble for nothing. She watched the judge as he passed over the other dogs. How different they were from Barry! Now the judge was finished and was coming towards Barry. His mistress whispered to him: Home! He gave a half-hearted attempt at a bark and wagged his tail. He knew what that word meant. Then suddenly the judge was handing the blue ribbon to the girl and patting Barry ' s head. Barry didn ' t understand why his mistress was laugh- ing and crying all at once, but he knew she was happy, and that was all he wanted. Later the judge came up to the girl and spoke to her. I asked you to take your dog away, because I was afraid I would spend too much time looking at him and too little at the others. You see, it ' s only once in a while that I see a real dog. THOUGHTS OVER A PENCIL SHARPENER Jean Kindlund, ' 40 Percival is a pencil sharpener dreamer. He is the type that saunters lazily up to the sharpener, inserts his pencil, and dreamily cranks away. He is brought back to reality only when he hears the object of his labor

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10 THE CHIMES WITH THE COAST GUARD Robert Spear, 41 Attention! All harbor police and coast 2;uard! Be on lookout for band of smugglers believed to be in icinity. Be careful as these men are dangerous. Got that? inquired Commander Richard of the United States Coast Guard Patrol boat CG 1042. ' ' Yep, answered Steve Kelley, the radio operator. The patrol boat slipped past Hanley ' s Light and headed for the open sea. The ship ' s clock struck seven bells; the sea was calm, and the weather unusually fine for mid-January. By four bells, the sea had become choppy, and the man on watch tucked his slicker around him more closely to keep out the biting wind that had arisen. As he squinted toward the dancing white-caps, he sud- denly straightened and yelled: Submarine off the starboard bow! Richards and Kelley rushed out of the pilot house and saw in the distance a dark form, resembling a giant shark. Three other men emerged from the aft companionway in time to duck as the dory was blasted to kindling by a shell from the submarine. Pretty good shots, commented one. Man the guns! yelled Richards. Blow those boys out of the water — no, just cripple them; they might be the smugglers. His voice was drowned as the signal mast and antenna were carried away by another shell. Meanwhile at the Coast Guard Base, frantic but unsuccessful efforts were being made to get in touch with the patrol boat CG 1042. When dawn came, a plane was sent to search for the ship. Later in the morning, reports from the plane stated that the ship was towing a submarine into port. When the patrol boat limped into the base, everyone there rushed down to the dock to see what it was all about. Here they are, signed, sealed, and delivered, ventured Commander Richards. Here are who? several persons asked. The smugglers, answered Kelley poking his head out of the pilot house. Well, how did you catch them? Oh, that was simple. We took two shots; one blew their gun off, and the other put a clean hole through their bow; you know we had to have something to put a towline through, explained Kelley with a huge grin on his face as he went to work repairing the antenna.