Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

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14 THE SENIOR {MAGNET I went hack to the office in the afternoon and the office boy bounced me for a subscription to a magazine—I swear I don’t know the name of it now. Well, Fate was playing into my hands. I subscribed and promised to get him some more subscriptions if he would lend me his credentials, and of course he was tickled at the thought. That evening I meandered forth with my subscription blanks and I certainly did look business like as 1 stalked up the front steps and boldly rang the bell. I asked the servant who answered to see Miss Deborah Fielding and was shown into a spacious, well furnished reception hall. Pretty soon Deborah came in and she was all my fancy had painted her except that I was all wrong about the peppery temper. She was as meek as a lamb, why she almost volunteered to subscribe. 1 felt as cheap as dirt and couldn’t get away quick enough. But this is only the opening scene for 1 don’t expect to give up so easily. I saw jour uncle-----------------------. July 20, 1919. Dear Mart:— Glad to hear that you got your business off vour hands so soon—you’ll have a fine opportunity for travelling now. At last I’ve got all the inside dope about the servant trouble in the Debor— but still she’s too nice to call that—Miss Fielding case. I can’t go into detail about it for it would be too long; but I’ll tell you a few of the facts and maybe you can get the gist of it. I got a proper introduction to the old lady thru accident and luckily she didn’t identify me as the magazine agent. I found out that her brother was an old schoolmate of my fathers’ and the old lady just more than palavered over me From words I picked up, that letter was intended for Mr. Ward, their neighbor, and was sent to him at his club, so of course I got it by mistake. Don’t you remember there is another Ward in the same club where I stay? Somehow or other he had gotten into a mixup about their servants, but that doesn’t concern me anymore and I didn’t take the trouble to find out the particulars. It’s a queer old world isn’t it! July 31, 1919 Old Thing:— I just couldn’t wait to hear from you, have to blow off to some one and you’re the only one in on the secret so you must be patient. Gosh. Mart, 1 never knew that the world was so beautiful—birds and flowers and clouds and all that. Work isn’t worrying me much these days, the fellows are back from their vacations and I’m taking it easy. I hat Deborah Fielding is sure an interesting and lovable old character as I found out in my frequent visits there. I'm glad dad was acquainted with the old lady, vou know' it kind of gives me a season ticket there. Boy, I’ve made the most wonderful discovery—I’m just in a trance. She’s certainly a beauty. I was going to tell you all about it in this letter, but I’ll wait further developments and have a surprise for you. When Holt got this letter he laughed heartily and said to himself “Poor Tom! I’m afraid he’s a gonner. Though I’ve never had the disease myself, 1 know the symptoms. When a fellow starts talking about birds and flowers

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THE SENIOR {MAGNET 13 “Now, who under heaven is this Deborah Fielding, and what kind of a new scrap are you into?” Already one could see by the expression of Tom’s eves that some new idea had obsessed him. “I'm as innocent as a new born babe,” he said. “You know Deborah as well as I do. I can just imagine her though—a little white haired, peppery tempered old lady with a vivid imagination. 1 must certainly give her credit, though, for using unique language. 1 suppose all she has to do is to sit around with her knitting and shoot orders at the servants. Wonder what they’ve been up to now?” “Well, this is surely a good one on you. Best I’ve heard in a long time!” and Holt laughed just as heartily as Pom had. But what do you expect to do about it? Hire a Pinkerton or disguise yourself as Sherlock Holmes, and probe the mystery?” “Neither,” answered Tom, “both are too conventional. That dear old lady either didn’t know anything about child psychology or else she didn’t know me. You know, when you tell a child not to do a thing, they suddenly get a determination to do it. That’s my case. Besides, I’ve always had a hankering to strike up an acquaintance with some nice old lady—might need her for a chaperon some time. You see what 1 mean?” Holt grinned broadly as he replied, “Yes, I understand you. 1 might have guessed as much for it’s just like you. I’m not worried about the chaperon though, but I’m kind of sorry I'll not be here to watch the fun” and he got up to go. “What do you mean? You’re not leaving town are you?” asked Tom in a surprised tone as he accompanied his friend to the door. “Yes,” replied Holt, that’s what I dropped in to tell you. Uncle's sending me over to Hurope on business—have to chase up some old papers to settle a family squabble. Then while I’m over there, 1 expect to travel about some.” “Well, I’ll miss you Old Top, but I’m glad you’re going; you’ll surely have a fine time. When are you going, and how long do you expect to be gone?” said Tom as he slapped Holt vigorously on the shoulder. “I sail Saturday,” Holt answered, “and expect to be gone about six months. But I’ll always receive my mail if it is sent to the Hotel-, Paris, so you must write to me and let me know how the mystery unfolds and I’ll try to keep you in touch with my movements across the way.” After talking a little more about Holt’s intended journey, Mart finally took his departure and Toni turned back to his apartment to think. Sunday 28, 1919 Dear Mart:— According to the calendar, it’s only three weeks since your boat sailed, but so much has happened in that time that it seems like months. Two of the fellows at the office are off on their vacation now and that keeps the rest of us hopping. The Tuesday after you left, I started on my solution of the mystery. From the city directory, I found the addresses of a good many Fieldings and bv fishing Joe Tubble (Joe’s our right hand man—I think he knows everyone in N. Y. City by name) I found at which one Deborah lived. The house is a dream—me thinks that Deborah must be w'orth a tidy sum. It was in the morning that 1 found the place, I think I walked past it twenty times, trying to think up some plan by which I could meet Deborah.”

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7 :' S E A’ 1 O R [MAG N li 7 to an old codger like me—watch out! He doesn’t seem to know that he’s giving himself away. Poor Tom!’’ and he shook his head in a most discouraging manner. August 30, 1919 Dear Holt:— Rec’d your letter first of the week and saw to the business you asked me to. Walker couldn’t do it. said he was too rushed, but 1 got Dodson to do it. He’s all right and I’ll vouch for him. Moses, but I’m sick of N. Y. So bloomin’ hot you can’t sleep. People are dying off like flies. There hasn’t even been a good show in town for a month and all my friends seem to beat the beach. Drat the summer anyway, give me the winter any day. But I mustn’t talk you downhearted, too, so will ring off. Was glad to be able to do you a favor so don’t be backward about asking me again. Dejectedly, T. W. P. S. Am thinking about taking out a life membership in the Bachelor's Club. Holt was sight seeing along the turbulent Danube when he rec’d this letter, lie rolled his tongue in his cheek and casually remarked the “True love, like the Danube, doesn’t run smooth.” September 30, 1919. Holt Old Top :— Words can’t tell how happy I am. There’s no secret now, why I’m so happy I wish the whole world could know it. Glad to hear you’re ready to come home— if you promise to be here in four weeks I’ll hold off the ceremonies till then, but not a minute longer. Of course 1 want you for my “best man,” but then there’s a limit to all patience. But here I’m way ahead of my story; 1 just can’t talk or write coherently. Well, I hadn’t made many trips to the Fieldings before 1 got the surprise of my life. There happens to be two Deborah Fieldings. and the new one, a niece of the old lady, is the lovliest, most beautiful and kindest person in the whole world. Holt, don’t let anyone ever tell you that an open confession is good for the soul. I made a clean sweep of everything to Deb, (I can call her that now) and believe me, I got my foot into the hottest water ever. It was she and not the old lady who wrote that letter. The old lady may control the financial end, but Deb’s the section boss. Of course you understand that I was pretty well acquainted with her before I confessed everything. But when 1 did, she surely did get up her wrath. Mart, m’dear, believe me or not, those two weeks that she’d have nothing to do with me were the gloomiest of my life. At last 1 got her to listen to me and I told her of the magazine episode and that did the work. She laughed and called me a “silly, ridiculous boy.” Then her aunt put in a few good words for me and my father and—Oh, well, all’s well that ends well, and please, Mart, don’t keep back the wedding day any longer than you possibly can Happy, Lucky, TOM P. S. I’m glad I didn’t take that Life membership. Don’t criticize me too much, remember the higher you go, the harder you fall.