Vergennes Union High School - Blue and White Yearbook (Vergennes, VT)

Page 22 text:

20 VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL “INIMICAL TWINS” From babyhood, Della and Bella had been dressed alike and had been treated as nearly alike as possible. Even so, each was jealous of everything that the other one had, if she didn’t have something exactly like it. This grew to be a mania with Della. She was even jealous of Dorian Gardner, Bella’s boy friend. One fine spring day Dorian went over to the Pennington's to ask Bella to take a walk with him. The afternoon was perfect. The flowers were beginning to bud. The birds were singing and even the air smelled of spring. It was a day to make you glad you were alive. Della met him at the door. “Hi! Dorian. Isn’t it a swell day out? Our tulips are budded. Bella’s in the other room waiting for you. Go on in.” As he approached the door, a feeling of dread swept over him. Slowly, the door squeaked open. There, sprawled grotesquely on the floor, with a nail file in her heart. lav Bella. At a glance he knew that she was dead. With a gasp, he told Della to get the police. “What is it? I’ve got to see, too!” Della screamed. Pushing past him she entered the room. At the sight of her dead sister, she became hysterical. Dorian gruffly told her to get hold of herself. He led her out of the room, locked the door, and went for the police. Finally, the one and only member of the police force arrived. Bursting into the house, he exclaimed: “Had a flat tire, so had to hitch ji ride. Plope you haven’t touched anything. Finger prints you know? When did you find her? Where’s Della; where’s the body?” Breaking in on him Dorian said, “Whoa Wait a minute! I can’t answer everything at once. The body’s in the next room. So far as I know, it hasn’t been touched. Della’s lying down. The shock, you know. They were always very close. I found the body about two minutes before I called you. Here’s the key to the room. I iocked it to keep everyone out. Is there anything I can do to help you?” “No, thereV nothing you can do. Stay where I can reach you if I want to. Good bye.” Impatiently the chief sent Dorian home. The next day the chief called Dorian. “I wish you and your brother Ronald would come down to the office as soon as possible!” As soon as Dorian and Ronald arrived. they were ushered into the chief’s office. After talking about everything but the murder, he suddenly asked, “Ronald, you wear specially made shoes don’t you? They have special lifts in them don’t they ? Where were you when Bella was murdered? You quarreled wilth her the evening before she was found dead, Didn’t You?” Comepletely flustered for a moment Ronald couldn’t speak. Then he screamed, “I didn’t kill her, I didn’t! That atfertioon I went walking in the woods, no one saw me, but I didn’t kill her.’’ Then he calmed down a bit and asked, “Why do you want to know if I have special lifts on my shoes? Yes, I do, but it's none of your business. Who told you 1 had a fight with Bella? We exchanged a few words but I called her up this morning and apologized.” '1 he chief replied “I’m sorry, son, but in the face of all the evidence I’m holding you on suspicion of murder! At this, both brothers looked shocked, and started to protest. “Hold it!” the chief said, “I found foot prints of your shoes in the mud outside of the room where Bella was murdered. I searched your room and found a bloody shirt. Everything points to You!” In a sort of daze Dorian walked from the office. Mechanically, he started home, his mind busy with thoughts of Bella and Ronald intermingled. As he passed the murder house Della called

Page 21 text:

BLUE AND WHITE 19 CHALLENGE By Florence Bolder Wright Dedicated to the Class of 1946—V. H. S. Keep climbing, Youth! Out of the ashes—out of the rotting remnants Of the weary Past, Build your new world! Carry it high—up—up— Beyond the mists of the mountain peaks Climb your White Tower! Struggle and strain against the wind, Bare your head to the sun— Give your heart, your muscle, And your fine, young manhood To the task. It takes the best. Do not be detained by the little men Who think themselves giants— They are only creeping ants! Pass quickly the tainted lowlands of despai r! Your work is waiting there—shining and free. Your dream still waits. You will be beaten, bruised—stop not for bleeding hands. Despair has no place here. Do not look back—there are old men there Full of dire predictions, and even threats. Leave the surly scoffer to his bitterness. Brush lightly past the indolent, the indifferent. They will be always there, waiting in the foothills To trip you, when, with your head in the stars, you are unwary. You will come down at sunset, Infinitely tired and worn; Aching, and in pain, and glad to die. But what will it matter? You will have climbed, You will have reached, And for one brief moment that is eternal. You will have looked upon the sky!

Page 23 text:

BLUE AND WHITE 21 to him. He followed her into the house. After they were seated she went on, “The chief came here last night and asked me a lot of stupid questions and then left without telling me anything. No one tells me anything.” She rambled on, talking about everything but always coming back to the murder. Finally she said, “I’m sorry about Ronald. Finding that bloody shirt in his room certainly settles the case doesn’t it?” Suddenly everything became clear to Dorian. “How did you know that they found a bloody shirt in his room? You told me no one ever tells you anything!” Her face went red then white. “I-I-er someone told me. No, that’s not true. I killed her! I did it! I planted those clues in Ronald’s room. But you won’t tell will you?” With that she started towards the desk with a pen knife on it. He saw her intentions and grabbed for it too. They both reached it at the same time. With superhuman strength she tried to gain possession of it. She made a misstep and fell to the floor, hitting her head on the edge of the desk. Atfer making sure that she was all right, he called the police to take the real murderer away. Barbara Drew, ’47. Shirley Hamel: “Is Doc. Wisell a careful dentist?” Lorraine Poquette: “Well, he filled mv teeth with great pains.” Mr. Berry (at the Tnn) : “Take this coffee away, it tastes like mud.” Kav Evarts (waitress) : “Well, it was only ground this morning.” Mr. Galipeau: “Your wife drives like lightning doesn’t she?” Mr. Peck: “Yes, always hitting trees.” “THAT FRIDAY NIGHT FEELING” Well, here it is, Friday night again. There simply must be something more exciting to do than darning my old pair of plaid socks. I suppose I could go to the movies and help Ray Milland find “The Lost Weekend,” or I might even get up enough ambition to go bowling. But, atfer slaving away in school all day I haven’t much energy left in the evening to be used up bowling. Oh! I know what I can do! I can breeze down to the high school gym and do a little rug cutting. Regardless of how intensely I may study in school during the day, I always seem to find enough pep for a little “jitterbugging” or boogie-woogie.” Suddenly, above the racket of Harry James playing “Flatbush Flannagan,” I hear a voice falling from downstairs. It is my mother: “The dishes are ready to be dried, and don't forget your father wants you to run over to the drug store and buy him the “Reader’s Digest.” Oh! for the life of a hum-bug. They don’t have to dry the dishes or run errands for their father. In desperation. I turn off the radio and drag myself downstairs to dry the dishes. After I finish this unwelcome task, I meander over to the drug store to get Pop his magazine. He had given me fifty cents and told me to keep the change. Bingo! A stupendous idea hits me! Right then and there, I decide how I will spend my evening. I'll huy one of the latest movie magazines and a douhle-header of butterscotch-royale with “jimmies” on it. After putting this bright idea into action, I scurry home and run up to my room with my magazine and ice cream cone. As I cuddle up in my soft, easy chair, I solemnly promise that no later than next Friday night, I will darn the hole in my old plaid sock, but right now, I have much more interesting things to do! Betty Norton, '46.