South Pasadena High School - Copa de Oro Yearbook (South Pasadena, CA)

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1 i { THE FATE OF A “QUEENER” JOHN THOMPSON, ’12 “T say, Jack, where are you going?” “Well, fellows, I hate to leave you this evening, but a cousin of mine from Chicago has just arrived and I must go around and see her—I mean him.”

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Class of Ninetren-rleven A LA CHAUCER Me thinketh it accordaunt to resoun, To telle yow al the condicioun Of ech of hem, so as it semed me. H. Huntington: “So hote he lovede, that by nigtertale He slept namore than doth a nightingale.” Kitsuda—‘‘His resons he spak ful solemnely.” Cora Vail—‘In curteisye was set ful moche hir lest.” Louise Mason—‘With lokkes crulle, as they were leyd the presse.” Helen Freedle—“She was a worthy womman al hir lyne.” Marie Axtman—‘“And ful plesaunt and amiable of port.” Edna Ferry—‘“‘Of studie took she most cure and most hede.” Daisy Trott—‘“That of hir smyling was ful symple and coy.” Mable Everett—‘“And Frensh she spak ful faire and fetishly.” (?) Helen Mason: “Hir nose tretys; her eyen greye as glas; Hir mouth ful smal, and ther-to softe and reed.” , Palmer Ritchie—‘‘Fall big he was of brawn, eek of bones.’ Clark Swan—‘“Curteys he was, lowly and servisable.” Genich Kadoya: “And short and quick, and ful of hy sentence. Sowninge in moral vertu was his speche.” Claude Hunter: “Nowher so bisy a man as he ther was, , And yet he seemed busier than he was.” Margaret Brickels—‘In fellowship wel coude she laugh

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Jack Harvey was just leaving the “frat” house for the sixth evening in suecession. All the fellows were in the big living-room, lounging around, when he tried to sneak off. “Something has to be done with that accomplished lady fusser! Look here! This is about the fifth, no it’s the sixth, night in succession that he has been away to see his ‘aunt from New York’ or ‘a friend who got hurt in a street car accident,’ or someone about like that. It’s queer he doesn’t go to see the same one twice. We ought to make him appreciate this place more. Let’s give him a reception when he comes home tonight.” Thus spoke “Hon” Baker after Jack had closed the dcor. All were heartily in favor of the plan and set merrily to work preparing the reception. They placed the popular record, “You’re Gwine ter Get Somethin’ What Yo’ Don’ Expec’,’ on the phonograph for the first musical number and went on with other preparations calculated to please Jack on his opening the frat door. “T wonder if any of the fellows are up yet. It must be one o’clock at least. But I feel sure I heard some kind of rough-house upstairs. Everything is quiet now, though. I'll slip in quietly and iry not to dis- turb their pleasant dreams.” These were the thoughts in Jack’s mind as he turned in from the walk and went up the front steps to the door. He listened intently for an instant, then boldly pushed open the door and stepped into the dark hall. ‘‘Br-r-r-r-r-, You’re Gwine Ter Get Some- thin’ What You Don’ Expec’.” He jumped a little at this unexpected voice. It sounded “queer,” to say the least, coming out of the darkness, beginning low and rising almost to a shriek. He laughed at his fright when he discovered a string from the door to the phonograph. “Maybe I better take off my shoes and slip upstairs to bed before the fellows hear me,” he said to himself. “It looks as if there’s going to be something doing if I don’t.” Step by step he began his ascent, pausing on each step to let the creak die away before he took the next. Behind each door upstairs, lurked shadowy draped forms, bending back and forward in convulsions of suppressd laughter at the thought of what was coming. Little did Jack suspect the excitement he was causing as he stopped on the fifth step. Would he never take the next? At last he did and hit the trigger that brought a shower of pans, kettle lids, and tinware of all descriptions with rattling, banging din. The strain was too much for Tod Williams, who let out one little giggle, but the noise of the pans drowned it. On his guard now, Jack felt along the banister as he went. At the turn in the stair his hand hit a cord. He jumped back, but too late to avoid a bucket of ice-water suspended from the railing above. It was almost too much for those waiting up stairs as they heard him muttering things to himself. Without further mishap, and without seeing the huddled figures behind the doors, Jack reached his room. He gave his bed an expectant kick and felt better to see the side rails fall with the mattress and covers to the floor. “Now I'll sleep in peace,” he thought. But, oh,