Soldan High School - Scrip Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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Q' 'J 'I-17 .Q 15:-1,326 1 -A g et 5s . g, , ff l, ,-iils-1-.tg -- 4133 'I'm so glad, Jimmie. But that is not what I wanted to talk to you about. What in the world are you driving at, Bobby? Speak! commanded the bewildered Bacon. Jimmie, she said quietly, I must tell you that our engagement is at an end. Recent events have led me to believe that father is quite right-about you-about Americans. What's wrong? he demanded, stunned. Wrong? Everything! Father has always allowed me full freedom, as you know, perhaps it has been unfortunate. He always was opposed to our engagement, but he would not stand in my way. And mother has her own favorites. Still, I have stubbornly persisted in my ways. Somehow, Jimmie, your frank, open manners, your-well-what you Americans aptly call pluck, nerve-somehow these traits had a peculiar fascination for me. Unfortunately, though, you have proved yourself unworthy of the love of an English girl. It's strange, he replied, that I've been good enough until now. And just at a time when-but, no, Barbara, you can't turn me away like this. You can at least give me a concrete and definite reason for it, besides your father's prejudice. Prejudice! she retorted, all the prejudice in the world would not make me change my mind. Until last night my father's objections, to me, too, were prejudice. But when prejudice proves to be well founded, then it ceases to be such, and in my father's case, it becomes sagacious admonition. Imagine me walking into the opera last night with my parents and seeing my fiance gayly engaged in the entertainment of another one of his 'friends' ! That was Dorothy Coverdale, he answered calmly, we used to go to school together in Denver, and she has just come to London. I do not understand you in the least, Barbara. Oh, yes, one of your old friends! she snapped. Think of my humiliation when father saw it. Think of the things he had to say to me. What could he say? 'Look, Bab, there is the man you propose to marry! Why, yes, that young American likes you quite as well as he loves his other friends! I tell you, Bab, these Americans do not take life seriously. They are mutable, fickle, inconsistent. When James Bacon is not calling on you, he is visiting somebody else, and it will be the same after he has married you.' At last the terrible truth struck me and-- I can't believe it! Bacon thundered. It is ridiculous, absurd. Barbara, I tell you it is nothing less than petty jealousy! James, she said sternly, you are certainly mistaken. Keeping company with several women at the same time may be correct etiquette with American young men, but in England it is intolerable and out of the question. Holding a small ring on the palm of her hand, she added: We will speak no more on the subject, Mr. Bacon! 19

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AII's Well That Ends Well HE door bell of Mr. Cecil Thomas, who, in the vernacular of a Frenchman, would be termed a bourgeois of London, gave a shrill and sudden sound. It was that young Amer- ican, as he was usually referred to, and rather 'Q contemptuously, by Mr. Thomas. Jimmie Bacon was lead- ing a life of experiment, and for the past year he had been engaged in the pleasant business of trying to convince a London magazine that James Bacon stories were really unusual, and that any publisher with common sense ought to appreciate the fact and accept them. And it was some job! Mr. T homasis pretty daughter, Barbara, opened the door, for she knew only too well who it was. Bacon had come to make his customary Sunday evening call on her, and this evening he was all joy, hilarity, ecstasy. And this same evening Barbara felt exactly the opposite. Well, Jimmie, she said in affected cheerfulness you look as if you had just been presented with a hundred thousand pounds! What makes you so happy? - Rejoice, Bobby, and be exceedingly glad, for my most marvelous and phenomenal story-the one I read you last Wednesday-has been accepted, bought, and paid for! I'm so glad, was her abbreviated reply. Then she led him into the drawing room, indicated a seat for him, hesitated, and finally took a seat directly opposite her fiance. Jimmie went on enthusiastically, half sarcastic, half serious: Yes, Bobby, the dawn of my glorious future is before me! I'm working on a big idea now. It is entitled 'Professional Loafers! When that's taken we will-well-we won't have to wait any longer. I'm- Barbara was ready to talk now, and she was waiting for the oppor- tunity. Her countenance reflected stern resolution. However, Jimmie's exuberant enthusiasm could hardly be checked at this juncture. 'Tm almost certain, he continued, that within two months I will have earned enough money to buy a marriage license, Bobby! Then, more seriously, But really, Bobby, if Dame Fortune smiles on me a little, we will be married before Christmas. But what has gone wrong with you to-night? Are you feeling well, Bobby? Oh, yes-I'm quite well. Jimmie, I have something--I wanted 7! nf' ': 1 ' ., wi f . 'F' My ls 1 f rf f ' 4 ry t0- By Jove! I know what you want. War! That's the topic! Well, I have some good news for you. The French have stopped the Germans' march on Paris. I tell you when Von Hindenburg puts one over on old man Joffre, I'll eat my head! I guess Willie Hohenzollern can't cele- brate Sedan Day in Paris as he expected to. Too bad! Billy must be awfully upset. But if he'd take my advice he wouldn't expect any more triumphal marches into Paris. The days of 1870 have passed. 18

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Barbara, he pleaded, do you think that a trifling incident like that is sufficient cause for breaking an engagement? No, but there are other incidents which I feel it would be useless to enumerate, and other stronger ties. which demand consideration. Bacon's face was flushed, he hesitated a moment, arose, affected a grim smile, and said: Then, it is time for me to leave. Sometimes I have tried to conceive of something really hard-a man's proposition- which a young man might have to face. This is one, I'm sure. This infernal and awful war with all its pangs of misery has, after all, its gentle side. g Following him to the door, she bade him a cold farewell. Good- night, Mr. Bacon, and good success ! I am not thinking of success just now, he said, half to himself. Good-night, Barb-Miss Thomas. Three months elapsed and Bacon was a first-class English private in a training camp in France. He had immediately joined the army after that memorable evening, and he had assumed a passive, subservient outlook upon life. Promotion was offered to him, but he had rejected itg a private was his sole ambition. The next day Private Bacon was conducted to the guardhouse. He found himself seated on a small bench with another victim, back against back, stooping over with their elbows on their knees, faces on their palms, as if plunged in deep deliberation. In fact, they were thinking of nothing. Then, simultaneously, both abandoned their pensive posi- tions, turned around, and faced each other. Bacon finally generated enough energy to ask his co-offender what had brought him there. Me ?,' he asked, nothing, nothing. Then you're here for the same crime that I'm here! said Bacon with an ironic grin that had become characteristic of him. I did absolutely nothing, came back the other. I was on sentry duty last night, and you know what a miserable night it was. Well, you know what we are commanded to say when a party comes up to enter the camp: for them to halt and one of them to come up and be recognized, while the others mark time. And you know how strict the oilicers are about us carrying out orders implicitly. Well, last night about ten o'c1ock I heard two people coming. I said, 'Who goes there ?' 'Captain of Co. D and wife!' he said. I said, 'Captain of Co. D, advance and be recognized, and wife mark time !' You poor loon ! said Bacon, as he was moved to a real smile for the first time in a month. At least that's a pretty good excuse for sticking you in here. They have docked me for less than that ! I sure would like to hear it! It's impossible, said the other, con- Hndently. We'll see. Last night I was engaged in the same business as you. About midnight I heard some kind of noise and I hollered out, 'Who goes there?' 'Officer of the dayl' he answered. 'OH-icer of the day,' said 20