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

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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.

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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

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22 VERGENNES HIGH SCHOOL AN ANCIENT CITADEL Behold me now, a covered ruin— Once I was a city wide. Here people lived and sang and danced. And yet I died, and yet I died! My people were tall and unafraid, Then I had no flaws to hide. I was the queen of all around— And yet I died, and yet I died! My watchtowers were the highest. Culture was my joy and pride. My temples the most beautiful And yet I died, and yet I died! Although the years have come and gone, And layers of soil my buildings hide, My teachings have lived on and on—• But once I died, but once I died! Jeanne Guyett, ’47. THE CORNER STORE Just around the corner from my house is a little white store. Not very large in appearance hut very important from my point of view. Its counters are immaculate and spread with goodies that every one enjoys. Its manager is always cheerful with a good word for everyone. Now this store really has a story to tell, for it helped catch the robbers of the First National Bank. The day of the robbery the little white store had delicious cream puffs in the window. Now it seems that one of the robbers enjoyed cream puffs so much that he couldn’t resist going in to have one. The other robbers didn’t trust him so they too went along. The manager, whose name I had forgotten to mention, was Fred Rivers, at once recognized them from the posters that had been tacked up all over town, as this was not the first bank they had robbed. Fred, being so jolly and cheerful managed to go to the back room without arousing their suspicion and called the police who came at once and captured the robbers. So you see, folks, the little white store with its window of cream puffs caught the bank robbers. “Molly” Burnham, ’47. AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A CAT Since on April fifth I will reach the ripe old age of four years, I deem it time to write the story of my life. To begin mv very eventful existence, I was born. To be more explicit. I was born in the lowly grain shed of a chicken farm. At the early age of six weeks, my brother and I were torn away from our dear mother and I was christened a variety of names. Among the most enduring of these was “Colonel Snoopnagle” which was shortly abbreviated to “Snoopy.” This phenomenon was somewhat due to my habit of breaking off my whiskers during my numerous explorations under my mistress's bureau and bed. Unfortnuately, my brother “Blackie,” not being born a gentleman as was I, had to go back to being a barn cat, because he couldn’t quite get used to houses. There was nothing unusual about my first year except that I developed an enormous appetite. Among my favorite tid-bits were kidney and liver, although I would accept steak and roast beef scraps as substitutes. During my second year, having explored everything in the house, I decided to enter the wide, wide world by way of a second story window much to the anguish of my family. I may also add that from that day forward, I made my exit by way of the front door. In my third year my adopted family bought a new living room suite, which was ideal for a cat to scratch his toe nails on. To this day, I can’t understand why everyone disagreed with me. Also, after trying all the chairs in the living room for comfort, I decided on the one by the radio, and I don’t thing it’s quite necessary to move me quite so often. Why don’t they let a cat have a little peace around here? Teresa Jean Bodette, ’48.