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168 THE BOOK OF THE CLASS OF NINETEEN-ELEVEN



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but more probably because those seats afforded easier and more silent means of access to
and egress from that learned company. Thus it was not necessary for these six Seniors,
when late, to crawl over the prostrate and protesting forms of the other students in order
to achieve a seat in the centre back. To this happy fact is doubtless due much of the rapid
and healthy development of the Club. It gave the members more time for thought and less
cause for that agitation so detrimental to perfect mental poise.

For some time there was nothing to be remarked among these six earnest students,
save, perhaps, an unusual devotion to their work, till one spring morning one of these serious-
minded maidens was recognised by another asa Hyena. You ask “why?’’ No one can tell
you, for Hyenas are born not made. It might be courteous to assist in the enlightenment of
the lay reader. Therefore I shall try to describe, as one of the most representative members,
our dear President and tell why she was appointed to this office. It was on account of her
hair, which was a lovely red-gold,—what there was of it,—and on account of her eyes,
greenish eyes with thick, yellow fringes; her nose, too, had something to do with the nomina-
tion, because it was a nose which would have liked to be a pug, but had straightened out for
propriety’s sake, showing a spirit tempered with conservatism. In her bearing the President
showed timidity and reserve. From these few facts I leave you to draw your own conclusions
about the other Hyenas, facts which were noted by the writer on that eventful spring morn-
ing whereat she hastily formed the Club, putting up E. Cornell for President. What else could
she have done? Kismet: it was foreordained and all on account of that hair! As though
by magic, hyena traits developed in the four other Seniors of the front row. You, dear reader,
can decide what these traits were when I tell you that Leila, Higgie, Hoffie, and Amy were
the new-fledged and happy Hyenas. I didn’t count myself among these four, because for
quite a while I had been a “something” and didn’t know what it was until I caught that look
on E. Cornell’s face. It seemed to clear up the whole situation, and from that time forth I
knew we were both Hyenas. At that juncture she had the advantage over me in having
even less hair than I had, so of course the presidency went to her and I got the vice-presi-
dency, a boon for which I was deeply grateful.

We always kept a careful account of the Club attendance for each day. The Log was
written in a note book of M. Smith’s and in these jottings were all sorts of personalities on the
looks, actions, dress, and thoughts of the members,—if Hyenas could ever be convicted of
thinking. All class jokes were registered, and all Club literature carefully preserved. Songs,
dirges and triumphant marches composed for promised cuts. The portraits of the members
were copied in the Log, as were also the “Dog-Faced Darling” notes kept, between Amy
Walker and M, Smith, of their daily greetings and “retorts courteous.”