Yeatman High School - Yeatman Life Yearbook (St Louis, MO)

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would allow it to fall into the hands of such an insignificant scrap of brainless humanity as I happen to be. I retired. At dinner time the pie had been bal-:ed and the news had spread among the boarders that war had been declared. Miss Prunes made remarks of such a nature that it soon became apparent that this was a battle of Man versus VVoman. She was to show the superiority of her sex by winning the fight for the pie. She had seen a movie called The Master Key, in which a girl opposes a villain in a light for a gold mine. The girl wins in the movies and Miss Prunes thought the comparison quite applicable. I sincerely wished I were not the noble representative of men in this great issue, but being in, I determined to win at' all hazards. All my detective instincts were brought into play and my every thought was on how to get the pie into my possession till I could convince Jack on his return that I deserved it. If I could do this, then would I be lauded to the skies in my triumph. The Mrs., trusting neither Miss Prunes nor my- self, had hid the pie in the kitchen till the morrow. Now to get the pie. At an oppor- tune moment, near the end of dinner, when the Mrs. and Miss Prunes had come in to eat with us, I drained my cup. I started to ask for another and the Mrs. made a move to serve me, but I acted as though it hurt my conscience to disturb her and I begged the pleasure of getting it myself. I con- gratulated myself on the successful man- oeuver and once in the kitchen, I looked quickly in the refrigerator and pantry. I couldn't find the pie, and I was taking too long to refill my cup, so with rare presence of mind, I announced to the Mrs. that the coffee was cold and that I would heat it. Thus I gained more time and felt around a high shelf. No pie! I was stalled. The Mrs. became suspicious and stepped into the kitchen. I then tried to think where I would hide it if I had a woman's intellect. and I soon arrived at a conclusion. I sud- denly exclaimed, Oh, look at the shedf, and as she turned to look, I sought under the coal bucket. Foiled again! I was getting Ninety-eight desperate now. Writh no preliminary strate- gism at all, I opened the oven-the pie! It was almost in my hands, when in sailed Miss Prunes, and, angered at my nerve, she took one healthy swing at my nose and landed me in a heap on the iioor. I was impressed with the fact that she had been scrubbing floors these past months while I had been merely pushing a pencil. In chagrin and defeat I withdrew to my room. After some time my nose felt well enough to allow me to think of other methods of campaign and I divined by hearing the player-piano that the coast was clear for the kitchen again. I sought permission to wash a glass in the kitchen, but that was too crude, for Miss Prunes suddenly remembered to feed the cat in the same vicinity. I went upstairs, took off my shoes and softly stole down through the back hall. I searched and searched and Hnally found the precious pie in a box of ribbons behind a trunk in the back hall. A few seconds later I had it in my room, where I could keepit safely. But I was going out that afternoon, and I knew that no means would be spared to rescue the kidnapped pie. Wfhere could I hide it? I remembered one of Poe's short stories called The Purloined Letter, and, acting somewhat on that principle, I wrapped it up and hid it in a waste -basket which stood in plain sight at the top of the stairs. I put a note on the bureau advising the searcher to look into the dictionary. Then I went downstairs and made such boasting over the affair that the Mrs. suspected me and soon discovered the worst. She gave forth a shriek which was followed by a shriller one from the throat of Miss Prunes. Being mindful of my nose, I fled. NVhen I re- turned I found, as I had expected, that my room had been searched. But when I peered into the basket I saw the paper parcel intact and it gave me no little pride. There it was still the next morning, but I managed, however, to assume a very matter-of-fact air as I sat down at the breakfast table. I waited for the subject to be broaclied one way or another, but I was served in a silence

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TI-IE PURLOINED PIE I jess ROBERTS-June, 1915 ORTUNATELY for others, I have long since discovered that I cannot write stories, short or long, so, to 'I begin with, this is not a short story but rather a short bit of history from my own uneventful life. Since it is true, it is un- assailable and it is with no little pleasure that I herein write without regard for all the things that the English teachers lecture about. For instance, I am the hero of this story. The hero would Hght unto death for a piece of pie. Now, the English teachers will say that such a glutton should be a fat epicure. Let the teachers rave. I am not fat, and on the grounds of standing by the truth, I refuse to let any fat guy take my place as hero of this great adventure. There are other things which are not according to the rules, but I can't help it, as that is the way they actually happened as nearly as my pen can relate. Unlike most high school students, I have had a great deal of experience in boarding- houses, but I have never been able to attain the honor of being a 'fstar boarder. I-Ie is the one who never gets called downv for burning too much gas and who always gets the biggest piece of pie. He is almost with- out exception a rather breezy, unmarried fellow, who makes enough money for two. Nevertheless, I aspired to become the favor- ite, but it seems that I lost from the begin- ning. Jack, the fellow whose place I would usurp, was a college boy with a future. VVhat chances were there for a high school chap? The landlady's daughter passed me up just like that. Do you know that type of landladys daughter? She is a girl who, from her daily contact with fresh guysf, has developed a cutting speech which generally quelches any remarks whatsoever. Any one of this type can simultaneously serve soup with one hand, pass the sugar with the other, kick the cat, and, at the same time, effectively silence some daring individual who has the consummate nerve to mention the coffee and, without changing the subject, refer to the muddy weather. As I said before, in her estimation, I wasn't even small potatoes compared to that college man. However, the landlady herself, who presided over the kitchen, found in me, as the youngest boarder, something which appealed to that vacancy in her heart left by her two sons out in the world. Now this was greatly to the enlargements of my personal comforts. Nevertheless, though the'Mrs. Prunes might cut my portion of the pie at quite a large angle, still Miss Prunes in the capacity of waitress had the power to veto, as it were, and could give the pie to Jack, or in pure spite, to any of the others. This aroused in my heart a silent resentment. VV e were doomed to meet. One morning, at table, jack and I got into an argument about who wrote a certain book and it ended in a bet. The winner was to get the losei-'s piece of pie at dinner next Sunday. The Mrs. caught the spirit and on Sunday morning was to bake a whole pie for the winner. So much she told me when I stuck my head into the kitchen Sunday morning, but Miss Prunes was peevish that day and dropped some very broad hints to the effect that Jack was bound to get the pie. Now jack was out of town that day and the bet could not be settled the follow- ing morning. As I had already secured the data which would prove me the winner, I considered the pie as mine. This gi1'l's despotism was getting beyond human pa- tience. VV ith my inside information I saw a grand opportunity to check it and to win a decisive victory over her presumption. So I became bolder in my remarks and opposed her outright. This brought from her in tones of finality the plain statement that she would eat the pie herself, give it to the dog, or throw it in the alley, before she Ninety-seven

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which puzzled. In a few minutes jack joined our group, but was careful to retain the weather as the conversational topic. Something was in the air. That was plain. I felt that expectancy which pervades the atmosphere just before the wedding march. And oddly enough, bustling Mr. Smith, the business man who was always in a rush, was this morning sipping his coffee as leisurely as if he were the Count d'0live. I had just managed to switch the conversa- tion to baseball, when the impending hap- pened. Our queenly heronie swept grace- fully into the room and dramatically drew aside a cloth which covered the dish she carried. The pie-there was the pie! I sprang to my feet as if to say something but was so unstrung that I clutched at my chair for support, and words failed me. The ceremonies went on without interruption. Jack, my hero, said the lady, today is the crowning hours of my life. Today! For I was given a task to complete for your dear sake, and today I have the pleasure of set- ting before you, for your approval, the fruits of my endeavors. I have had to fight for this token I now bestow, for Beelzebub himself dared to cross my path. VV hat had happened? Ah !. it dawned upon me! So simple, only a fool could not have seen through it sooner. Miss Prunes had simply found the pie and left the paper arranged as if untampered. She had out- Poed me. I was conscious that jack had risen to acknowledge the gift. They must have rehearsed that presentation. I heard him say, Queen of queens, most beautiful of the beautiful, the honor thou bestowest upon such a humble one as I-how can I express my appreciation. Think not that I had no understanding of the trials that have beset thy path. I have been acquainted of thy vow to deliver this golden pie unto thy humble knight. Posterity shall e'er re- member--. At this juncture the masque yielded to the mirth of the spectators amid prolonged laughter, I sank weakly into my chair. Beaten! Purloined pie-rats! -Oh, why was I such an educated fool? The laughter finally subsided. I pushed back my plate and slowly turned away. As I reached the door I heard a purring feminine voice, Little boy, little boyf' It stabbed like a knife. Ye gods, had the woman no mercy? I had suffered enough soul agonies to satisfy the most revengeful demon-yet she wanted more blood. f'Oh, little boy. I faced her with an effort, for tears of disgrace and defeat were pressing hard. That's mammais nice little boy. Now won't you speak a piece to let us know that you lost ? I guess-I guess you-w-win. My voice broke and I stumbled up the stairs. At the top I paused. Before me, in mock- ery lay the basket which had once contained that cursed pastry. Traitor! In blind wrath I gave it a vengeful kick that sent it rolling. Then-mira-bile dictu-out flapped the pic! I stood dumbfounded, then sat down dazed, to collect my giddy senses. The idea of delirium tremens occurred first, but soon there came light and I perceived how I had been hoaxed. Seizing the pie, I bounded down the steps to prove my victory. Smith was just leav- ing. I dragged him back and shouted for all to come and behold. They Hocked into the room but stood around in such cold apathy in View of my shouts of victory that I stopped my prancing. I grasped Smith entreatingly by the coat sleeve and I held the pie before him. Smith, you're a friend of mine. Honest now, don't I win? Ain't that the pie? Look at it, man! I-Ie finished lighting his cigar and then gazed critically at the object. I-Im, it looks like one, son. lVhat did you pay for it? VVhere were my friends? I sought in vain for a single sign of sympathy. All my faith in men ebbed in a moment. ,Here were examples-the cowards! Their stomachs swayed their intellects, aye, their very mor- als. They would desert the standard of truth, the ties of truest friendship-all for 37 Ninety-nine