Wells River High School - Chatterbox Yearbook (Wells River, VT)

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Mr. Fuller calls his wife every day. It’s pleasant here in the vice president’s office and the work is easy. The boss is always very friendly. Mr. Fuller doesn’t under- stand all this, but he doesn’t mind. The Vice-Presidency is a good job. —Doris Sawver ’45 AN EVENING WITH HOMEWORK Joanne Brown retired to her studying promptly at 6:00 P. M., having been excused from dishes upon the an- nouncement that she had just heaps of homework”. In the space of fifteen minutes she had assembled her geometry book before her, opened to the next day’s as- signment, and after tiring search had found a clean piece of paper on which to begin. The theorem proved to be exasperating, so it was promptly discarded to be resumed first study period next day. The history lesson proved to be so dry she was forced to repair to the kitchen for a large glass of water. The eight o’clock chimes stirred Joanne from the depths of The Mystery of the Ghost at Midnight.” Flow on earth did I come upon this she wondered, but of course —she had picked up a book in the search of sentences show- ing good grammatical construction for the English assign- ment. Heavens, how time flies,” she exclaimed, and I’ve done practically nothing. Well, before I begin anything else, I may as well make myself comfortable.” Where- upon she wandered back to the kitchen to get some pop- corn. Settled again at her desk, a large bowl of popcorn at her right, Greggs Shorthand on her left, she prepared to do some work in earnest. Except for a half hour in which she just had to hear the Eddie Cantor Show, Joanne spent the remainder of the evening in study (to be exact, hardly more than a fifteen minute period). At 9:30 Joanne was informed that she was to get ready for bed. 9

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Mrs. Fuller began a series of rush here, do this, rush there, do thats. Luckily, she had an excellent meal planned for that evening. Now to get rid of the children. Murder would be too obvious, and hiding would be too confusing, so to simplify matters she phoned to ask a friend if she might send the children over for sunoer. The No” and the slam of the receiver didn’t faze her a bit. She phoned another friend. Finally, after four tries, she obtained shelter for them in the home of the village grocer for a mere trifle of five dollars. In a half hour the boss will appear. Dinner is beauti- fully cooked, the table is attractively set, and the room is beautifully lighted with candles. Now to get Gramp dressed. This won’t be hard be- cause he is really a proud man and with only a half hour he won’t have time to argue. She gives the maid last minute instructions and enters the den of evil. She pauses on the threshold to switch on the light. Tust as she falls in a dead faint into an arm! chair she switches the light off. Fifteen minutes pass and a horn is heard outside. The boss steps out of the car and walks up the pathway very stiffly. He is nrepared for a very dull evening. All day he has listened to tales of a harmonious family where every- one dresses for dinner, where a charming wife and perfect hostess reigns over all, where the children are little angels” and go to bed immediately after sunoer. A butler, hired for the occasion, opens the door and takes their coats. Where is the little wife? Is there a flaw in this nest of perfection? Mr. Fuller coughs in em- barrassment and invites the boss into the living room. They pause on the threshold to switch on the light. Gramp is sleeping peacefully in his old overalls and his moo wig of which he is still unaware. Mrs. Fuller rests just as peacefully in an arm chair wearing an old house dress, a soiled apron, and dust cap. As the boss looks around, he sees his accountant stretched peacefully out on the floor. Peace reigns over all. 8

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 But mother,” she protested, I’ve hardly begun and besides it’s disgustingly early. Whatever excuse will I make for having my lessons unprepared?” She had any number of questions ready, for all of which her mother had answers. Five minutes later Joanne swept into her bedroom, storming about the shortage of minutes that the hours nrovide. —Ilene Darling ’46 MISSION COMPLETED He took her to Mario’s the first night they were to- gether. When Mario saw Sam with Susan he immediately sensed a blossoming romance. He smiled, turning up the corners of his black mustache, For Sam eet ess spaghetti— for the young lady?”— ah?” Sam nodded, the same.” As Mario went toward the kitchen, Sam’s muscular hands reached across the table and grasped Susan’s soft white ones. I know it’s all very sudden, but when a man has gazed on the fair sex for all twenty-five years of his life he’s sure when he has met the right one.” Will you be my girl?” he said hesitantly. Susan was silent. Don’t say 'no’. Perhaps we can correspond and maybe next time we meet you’ll be convinced.” Susan was mild, I won’t write, but I’ll meet you again at Mario’s.” All through the winter she ate supper at Mario’s. The warm food and soft yellow lights brought warmth to her body but not to her heart. Spring came. It became hot and crowded in the restaurant. There’s no use waiting much longer she thought, for she realized that he had either gone overseas or had forgotten her. One particular night it was raining out, a soft rain, warm and life-giving, as only the fresh spring rains are. As she sat gazing out the restaurant window at the reflec- 10