Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1930-06-20
The principal" !
of the Thing 4 i
By GENEVRA COOK
i-i-i.i.i.i.s.i.i.i.i--s-i-i-tf-f-i-i-s-F-is-iti-
(Copyright.)

(Copyright)
WILMA DALEY gazed pensively
w out Of the window. Before her
on her writing table lay the unan-
swered letter of the family. what
Is the matter with Brentwood HighT'
they wanted to know. Don't you like
teaching? Isn't 1t a good schoolT"
With sigh born of long hours
Of unaccustomed dignity, Wilma ran,
her fingers rebelliously through her
bright hair, seized her pen, and
scrawled fiippantly across the white
sheet, making an impudent little face
as she wrote:
Dear Family:
It's not the school. It's the principal
of the thing.
.......s........'.
( She looked again out at the elm
shaded drive which curved past this
house where she had a room, past
the Brentwood Arms, where he lived
Clyde Archer Rutherford, principal
of Brentwood Highland circled the
hill up to the high school Itself. Yes
terday he had walked up to school
with her. Her face burned as she
remembered the frozen expression on
his face as she had come almost run
ming up the street, breathing deep OF
the crisp October air, and had called
out to him: "HelloI" And then he had
come into her room after school and
found her sitting on one Of the front
desks, singing the peppiest football
song of her own college to couple OF
boys on the Brentwood teaml
miss Daileyl Some one wants you
on the phone" called the pleasant
whom she lived.
Wilma ran e. gerly down the stairs.
Eyes? Oh, Zlpl Hello. Zip
Tonight? I'd love 1t.
Purple Hills. and danclngl
MIN And Ann and Cricky?
Bout half an hour All
right Goodbye"
She ran singing up the stairs, two
steps at a time. Anyway, tonight she
wouldn't have to be school teacher"
At Purple Hills there was dinner
and dancing. The boys seemed to
know everyone, especially In the or
chestra. Between the four of them.
she and Zip aud Ann and Cricky. they
kept the Musical Morons" busy with
requests. Wilma and Zip had a new
step-a clever, tricky one that Zip
had got from a cousin who was on
the stage-and toward the end Of the
evening Zip asked the orchestra to
play the music for 1t.
Absorbed in dancing 1t, caught by
the spell of the music, Wilma did not
notice that one by one the other cou.
pies stopped dancing to watch, till
there was no one else left on the
floor. With the Inst dying note OF the
music, she lifted her dropped lashes.
stood for moment smiling little,
up at Zip-and suddenly aware Of the
breathess hush In the air-turned TO
see the charmed circle standing there.
Her eyes wide, she drew deep
breath. Over the heads of the spell
bound crowd, she met the intent, dis
approving blue eyes OF Clyde Archer
Rutherford, principal Of Brentwood
high.
All winter Wilma worked hard to
live down that look in the eyes of
her principal "Of course he b !
said, at is not just the personal loss
of dignity. It's the principle OF the
thing"
1t was the night of the predress re
hoo,,oI enr ho Mou-dau nlau Eyarv.
one was excited, tired. merry. AS the
curtain fell for the last act, the senior
lead slid over the fOotllghts and be
gan strummng on the plano. AT once
the cast, the strain over, were dane
Ing hilarlously across the stage WI
ma made no effort to stop them; they
had worked hard; let them have
little fun now. From backstnge she
pulled the curtain to give them more
room. Amazed and Indignant came the
stentOrlan voice Of the principal from
the dark of the auditorium: stop
that dancIngl" There was q petrIfed
silence on the stage.
Clothed in new dignity Wilma
bailey stepped from behind the scenes.
She looked straight into the eyes Of
Clyde Archer Rutherford. "Mr. Ruth
erford," she said softly bui clearly,
81 allowed them to dance II there
Is any blame, | should have IT,"
The principal became very red. He
said sternly to the breathless cast:
"You are dismissed for tonight Most
hastily they went.
It was very quiet In the auditorium.
Clyde Archer Rutherford came up on
to the stage and held out both his
hands. Miss Daley Wilma" he
said. IL hate to see you $3.50 dig
nlfed, like that. It's just crime. You
you're so lovely Just as you arel"
Wilma Daley gazed dreamily out
of the window. Before her on her
writing fable lay an unanswered let
ter Of the family. 80 you're going
back to Brantwood" they said 1--WE
hoped you'd come home this year to
teach. You must have changed your
opinion about Brentwood md like the
school after ALL"
with happy sigh Wllmn picked up
her pen, and wrote:
Dear Family:
It's not the school. IT'S the prIn.
elpal OF the thing