The Crime

Now that the Yard Police have stamped out the extraordinary menace of cyclists from the highways and byways of the Yard, all should be peaceful in Cambridge, but not so. Fate has wrought up another plague. Since the first warm days in January all the little boys and girls who live behind Dunster House have been squeezing their papas' oil cans on eight little roller-skate wheels. All winter they have threatened to break loose when the snow melted, and last week, with the disappearance of the last chunk of dirty ice, the whole younger generation of Cowperthwaite Street and McCarthy Road swooped down upon Dunster's concrete promenade on masse. The roaring Spring flood of roller skates was on.

And so the din continued for six successive afternoons, except for intermittent rain. It was bearable at most, but Saturday things took a turn for the worse. The children came out with a brand new idea--night maneuvers. Dunster has always prided itself in its distance from the hubbub and turmoil of Harvard Square or Bolyston Street, but alas and alackaday, those quiet days and silent nights are gone forever. Solemnly advised an Aentry man: "Freshman, pick your House with a cinder path or a nice brick walk."