Waltham High School - Mirror Yearbook (Waltham, MA)

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Prophecy of the Class of A1915 MARIoN JONES OI! Rands fad was hypnotism, a curious fancy for a college man 3 still, his greatest ambition was to proclaim his power abroad and to convince his friends that it was absolutely genuine. One even- ing, as we were gathered around the table after dinner, the conversation was turned, as usual, upon Bobs powers and several doubting guests requested a demonstration. Rather than have the scheme proven a fake, I condescended to be put into the mysterious sleep, for I was determined to pull the thing through by hook or crook. Quite ready to act a misleading role, I propped myself up against the wall and then seriously declared, for the benefit of the others, my utter willingness to be wafted into entire unconsciousness by Bo-b's weird flourishes and staggering glances. Fully in control of myself, I gave the word fo-r him to begin, but as I attempted to move in a dazed fashion about the improvised couch, I found motion impossible. I tried to arouse myself in protest. but I realized that his powers had had the desired effect upon me. Bright lights ceased to move before my eyes, voices were smothered by some- thing which I could not prevent, and a veil seemed to fall before my face like a curtain. My lips were parched and my throat was so dry that I could not even whisper. Then I stopped thinking. Everything was com- pletely changed. Instead of Bobs long, dangling arms, a huge wind-mill loomed up in front of me, throwing its paddle wheels about in tireless rotation. The mill door stood ajar. I-Iaving noth- ing else to do but investigate my unusual surroundings, I crept slowly to the entrance. A whirring sound buzzed in my ears. com- ing from the broad leather belts which rotated about the iron wheels within. Sev- eral men walked back and forth along a run- way beneath this machinery, carrying bags of grain to a side door where they were loaded upon a wagon. Une of the workers seemed very familiar. Even his back view had a strange, intellec- tual look, which I could not fail to recog- nize. I started forward immediately and stepped in front of the laborer. I hardly expected to see Wfendell in blue overalls and jumper, but, after a series of deep blushes, he firmly convinced me of his identity. ' Oh, I say! How do you happen to be around here I-Ie managed to squeeze out a few words of welcome just as a sharp edged shingle slipped through an opening in the roof and fell with a thud upon his head. Isley, up there! he called out. Then, turning to me, he explained. That's Har- old Turner. Hes still shingling roofs, but he drops more through that hole than he nails on. As he said this, the man in ques- tion appeared from aloft and stood gazing amazedly at me. lYell, now, this makes it nice. Say, do you want to see something funny? I've been watching them since they came around the bend. Fool man! XVe walked to the door and stood for a second looking up the streetf Suddenly from around the corner of the mill came ten or eleven Girls frail b - b Y dressed, exclaiming and rushing about a man. the centre of their group. It was George Carter, overwhelmed with female adoration and acting extremely happy be- neath the torrent of their caresses. It was so unlike him! Twelve o'clock sounded from a neighbor- ing clock tower and without further words I was left to my own resources. It was evident that luncheon hour was still being observed. :Xt any rate, it gave me ample opportunity to look into my situation. Per-

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PROPHECY haps if I wandered up through that elm bordered street, I thought, I might hnd some other old acquaintances. Nothing whatever was improbable now, so feeling exceedingly encouraged by my thoughts, I sauntered along the weedy pathway toward a white dotted cemetery. I never had cared for cemeteries, but this particular spot ap- pealed to me, and rather than sit down by the roadside and eat grass, I opened the iron gate. Having wandered from stone to stone without seeing a name which I recog- nized, I turned to leave the solitary place. In front of a very small granite piece with the inscription Rover, my dog, stood Mil- dred Dyer, gazing sorrowfully at the green spot. The simple expression of words spoke fully of Mildreds loss and without troubling her meditation, I was just about to take my departure, when I heard some- one speaking: This is a private burying ground. Please get out, and Leonard Hill, still residing in the cemetery district, led me courteously to the opening in the fence and saw me safely outside of his domain. A tive minutes' walk brought me to the hrst public building erected in Arden Vil- lage, the post-ofhce, but, contrary to the card on the door, it was not open at all hours. Having tried the door and having found it securely bolted, I came to the con- clusion that some unusual circumstance had prevented the rules from being carried out. Then through a crack in the door I heard a vehement snoring and from this same crevice protruded a slip of paper apparently intended for whomsoever happened in that direction. I unfolded it and found inside, in scraggling letters, an explanatory no-te 2- The key's under the mat. The door is locked because there is a dollar's worth of stamps in the drawerfl The postmaster must have been an ardent advocate of Safety first. Yery anxious lu know who this brilliant government offi- cer might be, I found the key and applied it In thc lock. l'ostmaster Iilond was taking an after-dinner nap, so I thoughtfully left him to conclude it unmolestecl, faintly re- calling in my mind his former fondness for rest and peace. A neat, white cottage across the road at- I placed the post- place and several raps on the green door brought a woman to an upper window. Come around back, said the shrill voice. The front hall has has just been painted? As directed, I fol- lowed the white pebbled pathway to the rear of the house, where I found a minia- ture athletic iield, well equipped with every sort of apparatus to delight a whole army of gymnasts. Five slim children in jersey suits 'tumbled around the grass, followed closely by a tall, thin woman similarly clad. Laura certainly believed in fresh air and she was teaching, as she had been taught, that plenty of exercise is Nature's own beautilier. Laura's life was to be one long line of gymnastic enterprises. Entirely ignorant of what was to come, I politely accepted her invitation to stay to tea, but when she brought out a jersey cos- tume and requested me to go through a series of performances on the slippery horizontal bar, I regretted my hasty move and I must have surely fallen several de- grees in her estimation when I refused point blank to strain my unused muscles. Never- theless, at the end of the meal, we were once more restored to friendly terms and that evening we walked over to Arline's bungalow. Before we came in sight of the house we heard a mellow voice reciting line after line of indistinct verse. That's Arline, my companion sighed. She spends most of her valuable time up in that old apple tree learning that kind of stuff, while Louise Stratton, adoring crea- ture, sits at the foot dreaming all sorts of wonderful successes for Arline's future. Let's not disturb them. It makes them both terribly angry to feel that they are to be tracted my attention as ofhce key in its hiding hindered in their progress to fame.