The Weber Literary Journal Peck's Bad Boy edwin stoker I used to know a little lad, Ofttimes good but mostly bad. And, do you know, that little brat Would lay awake and study and that Of newer ways to spend next day, Of some unthought-of pranks to play; Of newer ways to tack the chairs And better ways to soap the stairs, 'Til everyone was scared to death To make a move or take a breath. One fine Sabbath (I remember well) His pa's lame back, it tok a spell; So Pa was forced to holler and lurch. As he was donnin' his duds for church, In came Papa's little son, With Pa's lumbago pad and, just for fun, He'd stuck in it a bottle of ants In hope by some slim fate or chance That they would do his pa no harm. But if they should he'd give a darn! What happened that day was really this: Mamma gave her boy a good-bye kiss And sent him to church along with Pa Who was unaware. If he only saw What was in his darling's head, Of course he'd lick him, but instead He kindly led his son along, Down the church aisle, through the throng, Into the famous old family pew, And with Sabbath pleasure the house did view. During the service, without a sound, Pa fidgeted some and turned around. He rubbed his back and then his knee; He slapped his neck uneasily. To the amazement of everyone Our hero ran out and then was gone To leave poor Pa with the ants alone. Pa started now to fight and moan. The pastor struggled with his speech And, as he this point did reach, "Go to the ant, thou sluggard; Learn his ways and be wise," "Ants," Pa moaned. "Ouch!" (How they did sting!) Then he went out without saying a thing, Pulled a board from a near-by fence, And our hero got the consequence. One good thing about this lad: He was the best friend I ever had. Whenever in need of a little joy, I'd turn the cover of "Peck's Bad Boy." 28 The Weber Literary Journal A Broken Secret Gladys Green BEN pushed the book he had been reading the past hour aside, passed his fingers through his hair, tipped his chair back on two legs and gave vent to his feelings by a prolonged yawn. Glancing around at the clock he mumbled, "Blamed if I can read any more of this 'tommy-rot' tonight; guess I'll go to bed." At this moment he discovered two letters before him on the table which, until now, had been concealed under his books and papers. He looked them both over before he could choose which one to read first. Finally he laid one, a large one in a white envelope addressed in a man's handwriting, down on the table and, after giving it one more look, turned his attention to the one he held in his hand. It was a pink envelope addressed in a lady's handwriting, at which he did not seem at all bewildered. He sat there for a moment, enjoying the happiness of anticipation; then he tore open the letter and read its contents. A curious little smile played round his lips at times and a slight flush appeared on his cheeks as he paused after each sentence to read between the lines. At the end he reflected and then looked back to the beginning and reflected again. Suddenly he became conscious that there still remained another letter to be read. He tore open the envelope and began. Several times before he had finished he flung back his head and rent the air with hearty laughter. At the end he pushed them both aside and gazed thoughtfully into space with the air of one who is having great success with a prank he is playing. Rising from the table he removed his collar and tie, rolled up his sleeves, brushed his hair briskly, obtained some stationery and a pen from the shelf nearby and resumed his position at the table. Again he looked at those two letters as if making some choice, and again the pink one won. After 29