The May night was warm and after a hard day at school, I had the roving fever. I wanted to to the picture show, but Mother said thumbs down on that for it was a school night. The Colts were paling ball and I could see the light from the stadium and hear the cheers of the interested fans. I finished my homeward, dressed for bed and lay quietly thinking how much I would like to be out there on the bleachers. Suddenly I felt a little tug at my sleeve. When I turned to see what it was, I saw a queer little fellow hardly a foot tall. He was dressed in green tights and wore a pointed cap. “Who are you?” I asked.
He put his short bony finger over his mouth as a signal for me to be quiet. Mother and Daddy were reading in the living room and he evidently didn’t want them to know of his presence.
He pulled me and I moved over to the edge of the bed. He cupped his mouth in his hand and whispered into my ear, “You have a roving fever, So have I. I rove every night. Slip out with me and I’ll show you sights more interesting than a picture show or ball game.”
“But I can’t go with you. I never saw you before,” I answered. “I—“ Before I knew what was happening I was up and creeping stealthily through the back door and out into the soft dark night. The breeze felt good to my face and I was all a tinge from some strange excitement. “Please tell me who you are,” I begged, “and tell me where we are going.”
“I am a Beelzebubble,” he said.
“A what?”
“A Beelzebubble” he repeated, and he turned a few cartwheels in front of me. “In other words I am a little devil and I can show you things that people like you wouldn’t ordinarily see. I am around at night and I can take you back in history or show you the future if you are interested.”
“Of course, I am interested,” I answered.
“Well, here we are at McGill School. I spend seven hours a day, every day here. Let us go somewhere else,” I said.
“Yes, but you are an invisible visitor now. You won’t have to study. You can look in on the other children,” and with that my little guide opened the door of the first grade room. “Mrs. Koen is the teacher of this grade. See if you recognize any of the pupils.”
I looked around. How young they looked. The calendar on the wall said 1945. “That is when I started to school,” I whispered.
“Yes,” my friend answered, “and these are your first classmates. Do you see any of your sixth grade friends of today?”
I began to study they faces. Suddenly a boy and a girl rose from their seats and actually started to fight. Surely I recognized them. The twins, Sally and Buddy Fowler. “They operated then in the third grade. ??? The teachers have more time to teach when they are in different rooms-“ my guide informed me.
“Yes, there are Anita Farmer, Bobby West, Irene ????, Bobbie Gibbs ??? grammarian. They are in Mrs. Conger’s room this year. And I see a little red head. That must be Gloria Robertson who is in Mrs. Smith’s room now. I see several others that are in her room too: Florence Turner, Harold Hays, Francis Foreman, Clarence ???, Charles Carrol, and ??? Courtney, but where are the others?”