Auburn High School - Bulldog Yearbook (Auburn, NE)

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Every night after that, when all the neighbors had gone to bed, Thomas would begin his serenade. Each night it grew longer, and sometimes a stray cat or two would help him with some of the minor parts of his song. Often some disagreement would arise between the “singers” and a fierce combat ensued. At last things became unbearable. The Jones’, especially, were getting very tired of these nightly “saengerfests” and had come to the conclusion that “a lot of dead animals were preferable to sleepless nights.” In vain they sought a way out of their trouble. The cat seemed to evade every trap or scheme fixed for him and learned the title of “Elusive Thomas.” It was little Danny Jones that solved the problem. After unfolding his plan to his mother, she readily agreed. The following Saturday was spent by Danny in collecting cats—cats of all descriptions. After a sufficient number had been collected, they were put in a large, well covered box and taken to the Jones’ home. That night when all their neighbors were asleep, including the old Irish lady, Mr. and Mrs. Jones slipped over into her yard and inspected the house to see if any windows were up. None were, but the kitchen door was unlocked. So, while Mrs. Jones stood guard, Mr. Jones climbed over the fence and returned with a gunny sack full of cats. The latter were emptied out gently on the kitchen floor, the door was shut, and the neighbors departed. “She’ll be so angry she’ll never want to see a cat again, and very likely will kill them all,” laughed Mrs. Jones, as she turned out the light. The first thing Mr. Jones did the next morning was to look over toward the old Irish lady’s. “For goodness sake, Ella, come here,” he exclaimed. Mrs. Jones came and together they looked dumfounded upon the unlooked for sight in the old lady’s back yard. Everyone of the cats were gathered around a long pan of milk, while the old woman sat contentedly watching them on the back porch. Mrs. Jones thought this called for comment, so going over to the fence, she said, “For mercy’s sake, where did you get those cats? You’re not intending to keep them I hope.” “Yes. indade I am. The poor craturs (creatures) have no one to love thim, so I’m goin’ to kape thim all.” —Geraldine Bell, ’13.

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C|)e |s torj of tfje “©It UrtsI) Eatp” Everyone in the neighborhood seemed to have a grudge against the Old Irish lady, who lived in the little white house surrounded by apple trees, and, judging from neighborhood gossip, there was a substantial foundation for this dislike. She was said to be responsible for the always sudden deaths of the dogs and cats of her animal loving neighbors. Chickens, too, that assembled in her garden, unless they had an unusual amount of cunning, were, as a reward for their temerity, never allowed to leave the premises alive. All intercourse between the old lady and her neighbors had ceased, and she was left to live utterly alone. One morning as Mrs. Jones, her nearest neighbor, was throwing out the dishwater, a white kitten came up. It was rather a good looking cat in spite of its likeness to a skeleton. It looked up at Mrs. Jones as imploringly as a cat can and meowed. “No, no, kitty, I can’t do anything for you this morning,” she responded, giving it a slight impetus with her foot. The cat moved onward between the boards of the fence separating the Jones property from that of the Old Irish Lady. It trotted timidly, but not fearfully, up to the back porch of the little white house, whereon sat the old lady, contentedly watching the doings of her neighbor. Then it halted directly in front of her, squinted its eye and meowed. The old lady was quite taken aback. That was the nearest any animal had come to her for a long while. She gave a quick glance all about to see that no one was looking and then ventured to say, “Come Kitty, Come Kitty.” The cat came nearer still and she put out her hand and stroked it. “My, you need something to eat,” she said., “Just look at thim bones.” With much effort, she arose, went in the house and returned with a saucerful of milk, which the cat lapped up greedily. After finishing a second saucerful it settled itself in the sun and decided to stay awhile. Just as the cat’s benefactor was taking the saucer back in the house, Ella Jones looked out and saw the proceeding. With a gasp that could be heard a block, she sank into a chair and laughed until the tears came. By noon everyone in the neighborhood knew of the occurrence and developments were awaited eagerly. But the old lady did not change in her attitude toward the cat. “Well,” remarked one of the neighbors about a week after the cat’s advent, “That’s the most fortunate thing that’s happened here in a long while. That cat has softened her heart toward all animals.” One night, however, the cat got lonesome, and sought to relieve the oppressive stillness by weird and plaintive “meows,” which increased in volume until Mrs. Jones had to put down the window of her bedroom in order to get any sleep.

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Ban Horton’s Knnocente Si Mr. Stone looked up sharply from his position before his desk to a dark curly-headed boy close to him. The boy looked up, just then, and as he saw his employer’s frown, his face put on a puzzled air. Anyone with a guilty conscience might find himself quaking in his shoes, if he were the unfortunate victim of Mr. Stone’s gaze, just then, and indeed the innocent might feel not a little timidity. “How much money was there here last night, Dan?” asked Mr. Stone, pointing to the cash receiver in front of him. “There were seventeen dollars and sixty come cents,” replied Dan, coming closer. “Why! there’s only fifteen there now,” he exclaimed. “Yes,” shortly replied the miller. A puzzled look had crept into his face. At this moment a tall, jaunty-looking young man entered through the open doorway. He took from his straw colored hair a soft green felt hat and flung it carelessly onto a chair. Dan left the office to serve a gentleman who had just driven up from the scale office. “Ray,” said Mr. Stone, when Dan had disappeared, “I have missed some money for the first time, and—” “Huh! I’m not surprised,” sneered Ray, with a significant glance toward the door. “Well, I’m not sure that he took it, but I’ll lock everything this afternoon and watch.” Ray was the son of a prominent merchant and also the miller’s nephew. He had no occupation and had stopped school, because he was unpopular and was not fond of study. His mother was a well known society lady and his father a highly respected citizen. Mr. Stone, the miller, was very fond of Ray and nearly every afternoon found the latter at his uncle’s mill. Mr. Stone kept one boy to do his office work, run errands and various other tasks that go with a mill. Dan had been Mr. Stone’s office boy for about two months. He had been in Ray’s class at school and when his father died he had to stop school to support his mother and younger sister. Meanwhile, Dan came back into the office and was working over some papers. Ray, after chatting a few minutes with his uncle, took his departure. The mill generally closed at half past five, so about five o’clock Mr. Stone went around to all the windows and locked them. He had just finished this when in rushed Ray to search for something. He said he had lost a diamond cuff button in there that morning. He was searching near a window, when something without attracted his attention. In a moment or so he resumed his search and soon found the cuff button. Then Mr. Stone, Dan and Ray left, the first being careful to lock the door.