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This autumn will bring a tremendous, terrifying adventure to Frank Bonora, 6, of Brooklyn. He is going to Go to School. Frank Bonora has been thinking a lot about it. One evening last week he could bear the suspense no longer. He must see what School looked like. To Public School 104 he walked, thoughtfully eying the sombre, empty building. The basement windows, he noticed, were barred so that you could not get in--nor out. He went closer, peered between the bars, pressing his small face forward to see through the glass, to see School. Presently his head was all the way through the bars and Frank Bonora could behold dimly what the future held for him.

When he had gazed his fill, Frank Bonora suddenly felt himself trapped. His head, which had slipped through the bars so easily, could not slip back. It stuck at the ears, painfully, inexorably. Maybe this was what School was like. Frank Bonora set up an anguished wailing which lasted until a janitor came with a hacksaw.

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