Warren High School - Hilltop Yearbook (Warren, MA)

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After leisurely strolling around, they came to the very edge of their property and stood leaning against a high fence. Yonder, Happy, live our neighbors, the wealthy Foranders. Happy, what couldn't we do with one- tenth of their immense fortune? g I wonder just what you would do? A voice said, and a young man stepped forward. Peggy looked into the deepest and bluest eyes that she had ever seen, but there was bitterness in them she decided. Accomplish things, he repeated and then laughed. Why bother to accomplish things when you don't have to? Oh, l want to be a success at something don't you? No, I can't say as I do. Oh, Peg said rather disgustedly. Now, l suppose that I have been tried, convicted, and executed in your mind? he said grimly. Not as bad as that. I merely thought, Here is a spoiled son of the rich. Faults--no ambition and too much money. Peggy said unkindly. A deep red spread over the boy's features. So sorry to bore you with the tale of my young life, he replied sarcastically. Peggy laughed, Don't be angry. By the way, I'm your neighbor, Peggy Davidson. I'm Kurt Forander, and are you going to live here? he inquired eagerly. Yes, answered Peggy, and I intend to make our living here. Make your living on an acre of land? he said incredulously. Yes, Peggy replied, amused. I'm turning the acre into a poultry farm. A poultry farm adioining the Colonel's rose garden! he exclaimed and burst into a loud shout of laughter. Save some of the laughter until tomorrow when the carpenters arrive to build the chicken coops, Peggy advised as she turned, whistled to her dog, and walked towards her house. Two weeks later Pegy took a very business-like letter from the mail box which informed her that her house had been sold as the Colonel himself, taking his morning ride, approached. Miss Davidson, l believe, he inquired politely. Yes, Peggy said. Miss Davidson, I am your new landlord and l do not like chickens. Those confounded roosters of yours would waken the dead, he said bluntly. Peggy held her anger, quickly deciding that sweetness might have more effect on the gruff, old gentleman. I'm so sorry if they have disturbed you, sir. if the chickens aren't gone in two weeks, I will have to ask you to leave and may those ear-splitting roosters be the first to go. Then the Colnoel rode on. Peggy stood by the gate, watching his retreating figure. Suddenly her eyes glowed, and a smile crept into her face. Diplomacy, Peggy, she said aloud, the gruff old colonel's one weak spot is his son, who is on your side. Beginning this afternoon Kurt Forander becomes a poultry man. After two weeks of working and sweating together over the chickens Kurt Forander was as interested in the welfare of the chickens as she. Now, she decided, is a good time to tell Kurt of his father's threats. Peggy told him of these threats and how much the farm meant to her and her mother. Kurt merely laughed and said, So the distinguished guests of the Foranders can't stand chickens? Well, we'll see about that. So long, Peggy. Kurt walked towards his home. Early the next morning when Kurt reported to work, he was accompanied by his father. The Colonel walked up to Peggy with his hand outstretched. Miss Davidson, I want to congratulate you, first, because you actually made my lazy son work, and, second, bceause you outwitted me. Peggy took the colonel's hand and smiled into the eyes which were kindly regarding her. Say this is great, Kurt said enthusiastically. Then the three of them, talking happily, walked towards Peggy's house for a belated breakfast. MARIORIE CAREY '40 WOODS AT NIGHT A pale moon shines through a mass of gigantic trees, sighing and whispering their tales of woe. At the feet of these trees inquisitive bushes gossip and pry, talking about each other in an old-maid-like fashion.

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fellow must have been in a frightful hurry! I zoomed up twenty-seven flights to my suite. Breath-taking things--Manhattan elevators! I awoke bright and early, impatient to see for myself if Americans were as crazy as I had been told they were. Everywhere on the menu--orange juice and toast--ham and eggs and orange juice. There really was no getting away from it, I must have orange juice. I glanced around at other breakfasters and they seemed to enjoy it immensely. Did I say all? All except a young mother with her small ward who didn't care for his. But he was quickly quieted with a threat of having to eat twice his share of spinach for lunch. I did not understand the reference to Popeye, How ignorant I was. Now I am very learned in the aspects of American movies. I soon found out that children ate spinach to be like Popeye, and teased their nurses to take them to Walt Disney's latest accomplishment, Ferdinand the Bull. I decided to take in this matinee and saw, on the same program, the dummy that has set these people agog from the Pacific to the Atlantic-- Charlie McCarthy. Rather, I caught glimpses of it from behind a pile of funny doughnuts piled row on row. My word, it must be a hat! Otherwise it wouldn't be perched on a young woman's head. Or would it? And the coiffures they wear are simply unbelievable. If I am to believe my eyes, fashion seems to be going backward in years instead of forward. Women's hair styles are distinctly those of the l800's, and their skirts are up to the after-the-war level. Sauntering downtown sometime later, I saw a Dutch woman clunking along. Imagine my surprise on learning that she was an American. Wooden shoes, of all things, seem to be another crazy thing Americans go for. Someone jostled me in the crowd and I heard very clearly the clinking of tin. A charm bracelet, it was, with every kind of image on it from cigarette package to Mickey Mouse. With a Whyn't cah watch who yer shovin , she shuffled off. I passed an amusement palace on a side street, and, to my amazement, saw two prostrate forms being carried out, and learned that they had just won first prize in a jitterbug contest. Such violence, I learned, is recreation. I plodded slowly along toward my hotel, pondering the events of the day, muttering repeatedly to my- self, I wouIdn't have believed it! I thought there couIdn't possibly be much more, How wrong I was. I retired early to get some sleep, or so I thought. No sooner had I snapped off my light when the blaring of- my-neighbor's radio fell on my sensitive ears. For one whole half hour I had to endure the squeals of the one and only Swing lt, Brothers. By the time the radio was turned off, a shrilling sob-sister cried, Don't leave me, Don't leave me, so vehemently that I couldn't imagine what it was this time. But when static rumbled forth, I realized that my neighbor on the other side of me had a radio too. For the life of me, I really can't understand whether she enjoyed it or had a different motive. I finally realized that the only way I could get some sleep was to stuff cotton in my ears. The next day I hired me a petro-wagon and arrived at Saratoga Springs just in time to see the races. In the five minutes I waited for the send-off two middle-aged woman at my side educated me fully in the art of installment buying. I wasn't surprised at anything any more. Between races I thought l'd get a spot of tea. In answer to my request, the stand attendant said. Sorry mister, we ain't got tea, just hot dogs and hamburgers. . How about some soda pop to go with it? I raised my eyebrows and must have looked very skeptical because he quickly assured me they were the swellegant. I took a chance and ate a hot dog, and to my surprise, it was good! It was an exciting day, and although I didn't win anything, I had fun playing the ponies. When I walked toward my car, I overheard one man say: l'm coming out tomorrow. But tomorrow's Sunday, said his companion. Yeah, I know. I want to come here once and see how it feels not to lose money. I spent the evening in my neighbor's apartment learning the art of playing a good game of Chinese Checkers. So this is America. My WORD! SHIRLEY BURNHAM '39 PEGGY'S DIPLOMACY Peggy Davidson stood with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her blue flannel slacks. She tapped the toe of her sport oxford and gazed around her. It was a large, cheerful room with a blazing fire in the fireplace, comfortable chairs, and a huge table laden with magazines. Cozy, she thought. Mother has done wonders with this run-down little cottage so soon. Then she said aloud, Come, on Happy. Her black, shaggy dog followed her. A tour of inspection should follow, Happy. Do you realize that we've been here for two days and we haven't even explored the grounds?

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Babbling on its way, the little brook's transparent water lends a bright contrast to the brown earth with its gray piles of brush lying here and there. Stealthy footsteps are heard .... some starved animal out for lunch .... Now a fox's stacatto barking echoes ominously, cutting the air with its sharp edge. A screech owl tunes up on his tour of the woods, then silence, then more crackling of the underbrush--probably limmie Skunk is bug-hunting. Silence again, and it is at this time that I realize how spooky the woods are at night. PAULINE HAMEL '4l AN UNLIGHTED STREET The dragon shut his mouth with a snap wlfen the door of the street car closed behind me. Alone, in a dark street! Was that a rumbling train or one of the membcrs of the dragon's digestive system? A light, as if from a comet, whizzed by me. Was it a car with its two eyes beaming at me or another victim in a white raincoat? A melodious whistle sounded close by me. Was it a car's herald or a note of satisfaction from that which held me prisoner? Something hurt my foot. Was it a rough cobblestone or one of this mon- ster's msiplaced ribs? Two flashes of light, evidently playing tag with each other glided past me. Two more victims? Perhaps they had seen two cars. Light again! Had the dragon put me aside for a more tender morsel, or was I actually standing at the soda fountain? PRlSC.lLLA JONES '4l TWELFTH HOUR The room had an air of mystery. It was almost midnight, and the pale moon sent the murky shadows of the great oaks creeping stealthily through the windows. Murder is bent toward the murkier shadows in the furthest corners of the room. A bat whirred against a broken window, then went wheeling on to nowhere. An owl screeched a warning, then a cloud crossed the moon, leaving the room in tense darkness. There came a knock on the door--the knob turned slowly--then entered--a skeleton! He clanked sedately and in a deep voice broke the stillness, Now if someone will please turn on the lights, we will have refreshments! It was a Hallowe'en party. GLENNA HARROLD '42 BY THE SEA lt was a perfect afternoon. Lavender-winged gulls soared and dived above the sand dunes which were patched with the shadows of drifting snowy clouds. The out-going tide exposed its sea-weedy, tin-can strcwn shore, and trailed fringes of white foam as it ebbed in curling amber-green waves. Beyond stretched an indigo sea, the color of amethyst where it met the horizon. Dropping behind the highest dune, the sun splashed the sky with crimson, lemon, orange, fluffs of mauve, and scarfs of rose. The after-glow tinted the roofs of the sedate old houses which bordered the sea, brightened the black bands on their white chimneys, and transformed windows into molten sheets of brass and copper. Columns of smoke from wood fires spiraled and spread. An undefinable hint of spring hovered in the soft, salty air as l drank in the beauty of the scene. HELEN BOYDAK '4l THEY DO NOT SPEAK OUR LANGUAGE Today in the United States the American people are greatly concerned with the various foreign organizations in our Country. Take, for example, the Bund organization, controlled by Adolf Hitler. People are alarmed over this Nazi movement in our own country. Their recent display in Madison Square Garden has greatly agitated every American citizen, We are grateful for the freedom of speech offered to us, but, on the other hand, we can't in the least way appreciate a Hitler campaign in our country. lf the real Ameri- cans could have done what they wished, probably, those few hundred Nazi-loving aliens would have been loaded onto ships bound for Germany, where their loyalty and support of Naziism would be welcomed. Here they could live and enjoy themselves by paying enormous taxes for armaments in return for being able to say Heil Hitler, give the popular Nazi salute with their arms, and wave the Nazi flag to their hearts' content. We have no room for them in America, and the sooner they realize this the better. Another group of undesirable people is the lewish refugees. We feel sympathetic towards them. We realize their unhappiness at the loss of home, country, and life earnings. Of course, there is no excuse for their unjust treatment. Perhaps we are being unfair and selfish, but we can't see why we should have hundreds of them here. After all there are thousands of American citizens seeking employment. Thousands of high school students are being graduated every year. Naturally they should be provided for first. Even though we pity these refugees who have suffered mercilessly at the hands of Hitler's brutal men, we have no room for them here. The opportunities in America should be offered to Americans first. MARIORIE CAREY '40