Waltham High School - Mirror Yearbook (Waltham, MA)

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FOOTBALL SQUAD

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PROPHECY trimmed with bells. Presently in front of us, he bowed and pulled off his peaked hat showing a bristled pompadour exactly like one I had seen many times before. I watched him closely, and linally made out, through the paint and wierd facial decora- tion. the unmistakable features of Dutch, who, after rolling about for our pleasure, was called off by the ring master, who had led in a new troup. As the clown left the circle, a woman's cry sounded above the voices of the people. How could he do it? just a good-for- nothing clown and he did it out of spite. Down at the other end of our row we could see her rise from her seat and, just as l had guessed. Florences pitiful voiceiwas plead- ing to the back of the disappearing clown. Act after act followed, but nothing more was shown that interested us as the preced- ing acts had, so we climbed down, leaving Roland swaying on his bar. Fascinated by a gaudily colo-red painting of The Fat Lady on the canvas of a side show, we paid our entrance fee and pulled aside the tent flap to admit ourselves. XN'hether it was that lady or not, we never found out, but she clearly resembled our old friend, Helen Furbush, and we went home very certain that we had discovered another schoolmate. The next day was Sunday, which meant a lack of excitement in the village. VVe went to church in the morning ,extremely conscious, as we passed down the aisle, of a hundred inquisitive eyes centered upon us. Safely stowed away in a front pew, how- ever, I at last felt at rest and listened at- tentively to the words of Ralph Johnstone, the bald-headed preacher. His solemn ser- mon carried through my mind a multitude of thoughts in no way connected with the sub- ject and lent a quiet composure to my rest- less desire to get up and run. Wlien the organ pealed out its last anthem, we arose from the upholstered pews and turned to meet the curious congregation. Having safely reached the door and feeling sure of an unnoticed exit, I felt my hand clutched and turning saw May Orr smiling and mur- muring, Aren't you coming down to the Sunday School? and without a struggle I allowed myself to be led away. You see, May was saying, you know a lot of the kiddies and Mabel Smith and Marion Sanderson both have classes. That is Marion, lean, sedate and pale, with the gray dress on, and that is Mabel over there, fat, buxom, and jolly, in the black silk. She has recently lost her second husband and Marion is just coming out of mourning for her first. There is rumor of a second mar- riage, but in small villages there is so much talk. Now, for, instance, when Dorothy Travis went to New York the second time, the deacons wife had her married and liv- ing in an expensive apartment, but come to find out, Dorothy was Filling the position as matron in 'The Home for Indigent Spin- sters.' Of course that was no sign that she would eventually join their numbers, but, as l said before, people in small villages guess at a great deal. - A voice from the platform assembled the school and when the superintendent, su- perior and supercilious in manner, gave out the hymn, I couldn't help recognizing Frank Ulney as the general manager. Then in a guttural voice he commenced the hymn while the children piped up, drowning him out completely. As soon as the classes had taken their positions, May took me into the next room, where the kindergarten depart- ment was conducted by Helen Whiting. VV holly unconscious of our presence, she sat among her Hock, coloring pictures and building block houses. All at once from be- hind a long, low table came a wail and a block flew into the air, falling squarely on the top of the teacher's head. She jumped quickly to her feet and located two small youngsters behind her in a rough-and- tumb-le fight. Dodging the Hying missiles, she took one of the culprits by the coat-

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