Wells High School - Crimson and Gray Yearbook (Southbridge, MA)

Page 19 text:

THE CRIMSON AND GRAY 13 It caused much excitement among the pu- pils, but when next day there was another notice saying that there would be a meeting of the M. F., and underneath that a code, their excitement knew no bounds. Similar notices were posted during the year, but after a while they began to calm down. About the first of June, things began to disappear in the different class rooms, and in each place the sign M. F. was found. Everyone began to suspect everyone else, and a feeling of uneasiness ran through the school. Finally, one morning in assembly, the principal spoke about it and also about the necessity of honesty, especially in the high school where the older ones are supposed to set good examples for the lower schools. The next day another notice was posted, this time requesting everyone to be present at a meeting after school that afternoon, and signed M. F. That afternoon the air was tense as though some mystery were going to be re- vealed, and so it was. The curtain parted at last, and there on the stage stood the Fresh- man President. Everything became quiet, and he began to speak. This meeting was called to clear the name of the ' M. F. ' he said. In the first place, ' M. F. ' stands for ' Mysterious Freshmen. ' The reason for starting this thing was be- cause we didn ' t like having the upper-class- men treat us v as if we were infants, so we got together and decided to have some fun with them, and formed this club. He went on to say that whoever had taken those things thought that he could lay the blame on the M. F. because every Fresh- man had said on his honor that he had not seen or taken those things. He finished by saying that he hoped that they would all be found before school closed. Everyone was amazed, but at last they came to their senses. They hadn ' t expected anything like this, and while some of them were angry, most of them took it as a good joke. Later everything was returned, and no one ever found out who it was that had taken them. That Freshman Class was remembered for years afterward as one of the brightest classes in that school. Phylis Craig, ' 30. FALL Fall is the playtime of the elves, Who paint the trees so bright, With colors artists can ' t surpass, Though they try with all their might. Through woodlands, lanes and pathways, Thickly laden with the leaves, Showing all their brilliant colors, None are prettier than these. Bonfires, burning in the evenings, Children dancing round it all, Can there be a better playtime For the children than the Fall? Doris Claflin, ' 30.

Page 18 text:

12 THE CRIMSON AND GRAY than play lazy. So Lucille looked up a small place in need of a French teacher, and we followed after. I, to go on with my writing and Jim to go ahead with his research work. My real name is Robert Stevenson Van Plank, and Jim ' s is Robert L. Vernon. I thought if I gave my real name, I ' d be swamped with offers from clubs to speak be- fore them, and I wanted to work. It ' s pretty hard to be famous, eh, Jim? You ' re right, Bob, and Lucille wins a five- pound box of chocolates from both of us. She said we couldn ' t stay in the same town that she did and not be found out. Now that you know who we are, Mr. Sheriff, I can tell you we like Littleton, and we are going to buy this place as a retreat, and Lucille ' s going to teach here one year more at least. Doris Demers, ' 28. STORRY HOUSE Oft times as we sat around the fireplace toasting marshmallows and popping corn we would tell ghost stories. The room was full of shadowy forms from the flickering fire, and the wind howled around the house cor- ners which made us shiver the more when one of us told an especially ghastly story. Most of these stories were centered about the old Storry house, which was about two miles from Chester, where we lived. Storry house had been vacant ever since we could remem- ber, and it was said to be haunted by Eloise Storry, a young girl, who walked about the house with a lighted candle. Everybody shunned Storry house, believing it to be haunted. One evening, Lynn Breele, the only one of us who had ever dared to go near the house, dared us to visit Storry house on the next Saturday. At first we girls said we did not wish to, having other things to do, but we really were afraid to go. At last we assented with many misgivings. Accordingly, the next Saturday we set out for Storry house. The house itself is made of brick, and is a fine example of old South- ern architecture. Around the vast grounds ran a stone wall which was still firm, in spite of having been neglected for two score years. The garden was a tangl ed thicket of weeds and vines. Lynn, as leader of the expedition, went boldly to the kitchen door and flung it open. We all hung back, but at last plucked up enough courage to enter. The dust was ankle deep, for as we walked we sent clouds of it flying which made us sneeze. The kit- chen was the same as it had been years ago. Next came the dining room. There ' s Eloise Storry, cried Jean, in a voice of terror. We all made for the kitchen door. Fraid-cats, taunted the boys, it ' s only a chair with a sheet over it. Fraid-cats. We came reluctantly back to the dining room a little ashamed of our fear of covered chairs. Then as we explored the library, one of the boys whispered, Listen, do you hear footsteps? We listened carefully, but heard nothing. That ' s your imagination, Dick. Never- theless, we were ready to make a dash for the kitchen door if we did hear something. Then, never-to-be-forgotten-time, as we turned to leave the library, we heard some one say, Put the case here, Joe, so no one will stumble over it. We stood there like a bunch of mummies, so frightened were we. Bootleggers, was our only thought. It grew darker, and still we stayed in the li- brary, too scared to move, as we still could hear voices. Then to cap the climax a light appeared and a hand came in the door with a lighted candle. Hey, you kids, get out of here now. You ' ve done enough sight-seeing for today. Next Saturday the Storry family is coming here to live. I ' m a painter, and I want to close up the house now. Don ' t fall over that case of paint in the hall. Carol Bingley, ' 28. THE M. F. High school opened with much excitement, especially for the Freshmen, on a day early in September. As the pupils filed out of the assembly room to go to their classes, one girl said to her friend, We have quite a bright lo(Jkirig Freshman class this year. Let ' s hope that they live up to their looks. One day, before the Christmas vacation, a group of boys and girls could be seen stand- ing around the bulletin-board. What is so interesting? one of the teach- ers asked, coming up to them. They all be- gan to talk at once, but finally she saw this notice posted : The Mystery Deepens M. F.

Page 20 text:

Miss Dube, in General Science — Where does steel wool come from? A. Proulx — Off the sheep in the Iron Mountains, of course. Football is known familiarly as the pig- skin game. We suppose that it is because of the many rooters it has. Knight — Price has a trick car. O ' Shaughnessey — Howzat ? Knight — It plays dead in the most con- venient places. T. Clemence — Why does a hen lay eggs during the day instead of at night? Sherman — I give up. T. Clemence — Because at night she is a rooster. Rawson — Ireland should be the richest country in the world. Snell— Why is that? Rawson — Her capital has been Dublin for many years. Teacher — Who was the smallest man in history? Clever Freshie — The Roman soldier who went to sleep on his watch. Miss Taylor — Has Miss Wheeler a very good musical education? Wesson — Splendid, you can tell her the name of a song, and she can tell you what ' s on the other side of the record. Deneault — What is the difference be- tween ammonia and pneumonia? Rosenthal — Search me. Deneault — Why ammonia comes in bot- tles, and pneumonia comes in chests. Miss Bingley — Were you ever alarmed about your studies? F. Hall — Yes, every morning at six o ' clock. E. Walsh — How did you manage to get home so early last night? Renaud — Oh, I had tough luck. I leaned against her door bell. You mean to tell me you fell from the Woolworth Building and you ' re still living? Sure, I only fell from the first floor. Is Detroit the third or Ford city of the United States? Officer — Hey, you, mark time ! Plebe— With my feet, sir? Officer — Have you ever seen anything mark time with its hands? Plebe— Clocks do, sir. Dumb — Heard the Waiter Song? Still Dumber— No, what is it? Dumb — Show me the Waiter go home. And the little rabbits all exclaimed — ' We ' re game. Miss Cortiss — I want a peck of apples. Clerk — Do you want Baldwins? Mijss Cortiss — Sure. Did you think I wanted some with hair on them? Son — Pa, where does ink come from? M. Parent — From incubators, son. Sopho — Work is my meat. More — Well, I ' m a vegetarian.