Central High School - Mirror Yearbook (Birmingham, AL)

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All ave a sudden Katie stepped in the middle av the road. In front av her stood a gurrul wit' curly yellow hair an' a face lilke an angel. ‘Saints above!’ cries Katie, who arc ye?’ ’’ ’l m the queen av the little people,’ says the gurrl, smilin’ and spakin’ in a swatc voice. ‘Hivins!’ cries Katie turnin' the color av a cold p'tatie. “‘Don't be frightened. says the gurrl in her soft voice. ‘Is there anny-thing I cud be doin’ for ye?’ “ ‘N’iver a thing.' says Katie and stops. ‘Vis.’ says she, ‘there is. I’m wishin’ for the driss wit' pink shamrocks.' ‘Have it ye shall,’ says the gurrl; ‘where can I give it to ye? Cud ye be cornin’ to the inn?' Katie says ‘Yis’ an’ thin hurries home for it’s time for her to feed the pigs. “Xixt day Katie goes to the inn. On Sunday she come to church wit' the driss on. An’ shure, even the saints in the glass windys in the church was envvin’ Katie. But the nixt day Katie was not at home. Ivery wan knew before the day was over wit’ that Katie and Terence had told each other a bit too much of their thoughts an' Katie had gone to Dublin wit' the curly- haired gurrl. ‘She was a lady’s maid to this angil.’ says ould Mrs. O’Toole. “Poor Terence got a face as long as me arm an' licked two fellers in wan week an’ whin wc wanted to spake to him we always stood near the dhure. He’d spend his nights a-sittin' on the edge av St. Dustan’s well, when he ought to be home a-smoking his pipe. “About a month afther Katie had left. Terence was sittin' at the well as usual whin a voice savs. ‘Terence!’ Well, it tuk Terence foive minutes to dc- cide whither to fall in the well or stay on the outside. Then he says quite hould, ‘Katie.’ “ ‘Yis.’ says the swale voice an Katie come out in the moonlight wit’ her shawl wrapped all over her head. “‘Ye’d best let me come home wit’ ye. Katie says me foinc Orishman. an’ niver a wurrd about her goin’ off. “‘Och. Terence says Katie, ‘ye’re not mad at me?’ “4N’iver a bit says be in bis sthrong. swatc voice. “ ‘Ocb. Terence, vc like me still, do ye? ’Twas foolish T was to go away. ’Tvvas the driss wit' the pink shamrocks what did it all! But, Terence, whin I’d been in Dublin only two weeks the pink shamrocks faded out! ‘An says Katie wit’ a sob an’ a laugh. ‘Terence lad. I do be thinkin’ green shamrocks are the best!”’ IRENE WALDHORST, ’14. IN THE COUNTRY OF THE GOLDENROD “No, Dick, I can’t do it. 1 want a wedding, a beautiful wedding with orchids, orchids, orchids everywhere and lilies of the valley by the thousands. I want a wedding that this city will never forget and that I shall remember 22

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“But sleep little pigeon and fold your wings,— Little blue pigeon with mournful eyes; Am I not singing? See. 1 am swinging, Swinging the nest where my darling lies.’ OR LIKE BARNETT. PINK SHAMROCKS “An' shure now, said Pat, pointing with his clay pipe, “shure. Miss, did ye iver be seein' such beauties as thim pinks?” Truly I had not. The path before the little thatch-roofed cottage was bordered with masses of pink. A pretty picture it was, indeed, and one that often caused me to come in the dog-cart from the town, down the white road between the wonderful green pastures of the Emerald Isle. On this particular afternoon the old man sat before the cottage smoking his pipe. 1 seated myself on the grass before him and gave my verdict concerning the beauty of the pinks. “I’ve been bearin' av green pinks,” said he with a twinkle in his merry eye, “that they be makin' in the town. An’. he chuckled, “speakin avc green an' pinks makes me remimber Katie O’Toole. “And what did Katie do? I questioned eagerly, scenting a story. “Shure. now, ’tis a long story, but since ve’re a gurrl yersilf. it can do yc no harm. Katie was a foinc, strong gurrl wit hair like a streak av smut on a white gate post; an’ the blue av the eyes av her—! an' clear white skin wi a dash av red in her cheeks. Och, she was a pretty coleen! An’ the voice av her was so soft the divil himself wud be as swate as sugar if he heard her spake. “Wan day, 'twas rale late in the avenin’ Katie was coinin’ along the road from the town. An’ be ye knowin’ it Katie O'Toole was mad. ‘An’ shure. says Katie. ’tis a shame! Such a beautiful piece av goods! Twud be most bccomin’P an’ Miss O’Toole tossed her head, ve see. Katie was vain. She cudn’t help knowin’ she was pretty an’ there wasn’t iver a lookin’-glass in the house. “Terence Coyle was aloving Katie. He was a foinc b’y. He had a blacksmith shop an’ a foinc still an’ there wasn’t iver a b’y in County Clare that Terence Coyle cudn’t lick. Faith an' ’twas true! The poor b’v was so mad about Katie that he quit eatin’ an stood around like a moon-faced donkey, r'hwat did ye say? Och. shure, she liked him. but she niver let on: niver a bit n-incouragemint. Tnstid she’d tease him an’ laugh. An’ whin Katie O’Toole laughed at a man all the usquebaugh in the kingdom cudn’t make a man madder or wantin’ her more. “Katie knew all this an’ began to think she’d kept poor Terence waitin’ Tong enough so whin he asked her to go wit’ him to the fair. Katie says. ‘Yis.’ Ye see that's why Katie was wishin' for the driss wit’ the pink shamrocks. 21

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all my life as a magnificent beginning of a long, happj life with my own clear doctor ’ Hut, Mac. you know that you arc nut strong enough to have a big wedding. just think of the receptions, teas, and millions f things that you will have to attend. No. my valley lily cannot have a big wedding. ( li, Dick! I must! I’ve just got to—’’ I II tel! you what. let's be married tonight and go up in the mountains— I know of the nicest place—all cool and quiet where you can rest and get well, then when you come back in the fall, you can have all the good times you want.” I his idea of a quiet wedding did not appeal to wealthy, fastidious Mae, who wanted and had the best of everything, hut in spite of herself she was persuaded to go to the country, even though she still clung to the plan of having a big wedding with millions of orchids and lilies of the valley. )h. my doctor, whv did you make me go? cried Mate as they were saying the last good-byes. I don’t want to go. it will be so lonesome out there, everything will be so rough, no pretty clothes or theatres or—or. Dick! I can’t even have an orchid. I here, there. little girl, there will be at least one valley lily and I will send you orchids once in a while. Then in the fall you can come back and we will have the big wedding. Be sure and write to me every day. Good-bye— good-bye. Mae was prepared for a dull lonesome time. 1 lor trunk was full of novels and writing paper, for she said to herself. I'll pay old Dick back fi.r making me go way out there. I'll write to him so often that he will get tired of reading my letters. All of her worst fears were realized, for as the train stopped at a small dirty-looking station, a roughly clad, sunburned farmer came forward ami asked. Is this ’ere the Miss who’s goin’ to stop at our house? Afterward she could not remember how she had answered him or how she ever managed to pass away the first few days. But when she was told that there was a saddle horse which she could use. her spirits rose and she began to take an interest in the beauties of the country. Dick began to work doubly hard when Mae left, fi r he was verv lonesome in spite of her letters. At first they were dull and Yuli of complaints but soon she began to talk less of herself and more of the people around her. There is a very interesting old man. or. our nearest neighbor has the dearest little baby.” were frequent remarks that made Dick wonder what change was taking place. Then came a day in the fall, when Dick was seriously troubled. A note came from Mae, which read: Dear Dick, Come at once, I need you. No longer votir ‘val'ey lily W hat could she mean, was it possible that she had fallen in love with some farmer hoy? W lieu Dick jumped from the train at the litle station and looked for his dainty valley lily, be was frightened. No sweet, pretty figures in white greeted him. Phe only person in sight was a girl in rough riding clothes bending over to examine a place on her horse's leg. Mae must be sick. Maybe this 23