THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-ELEVEN 101
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my over-excited state quickening my perceptions, for that was Rock humour and I caught
it, right between the eyes, and it cheered me up not a little. I had been terribly upset
about our original Helen of Troy—Cranie went off to a Self-Gov. conference, but Hellie
filled the part toa T. Then there was my flock, the collecting of which had made me pretty
nervous and no wonder. There were Jeanne Kerr’s very best canton flannel donkey and
elephant (with saddle) and Blinkie, the rich china dog, thrown into immediate contact with
common sprawly Teddy bears and carpet rabbits. At any minute I expected a fight. There
were other things to wound my sensitive feelings, such as being made to shake a rattle.
The Freshmen were utterly bewildered. If the evening was a success, which I like to
think it was, it was due to the kind appreciation from the classes on the running track.
But 1913 contributed a good deal with their We love, we love, we love our red, but, Oh, your
green; which just shows how Freshmen have advanced since our day.
Oh, well, now 1913 are singing about how their Juniors stood firm by them. Ever
solicitous about securing compliments to ourselves we left them that to sing, and perhaps
the dear things more or less mean it. Personally I’m not just sure what “standing firm”
consists in. If it involves turning out in large numbers to cheer them through match games,
we did better by them than by ourselves. But that is another story.
Marion Sturaes Scort. »
