Johnstown High School - Spectator Yearbook (Johnstown, PA)

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12 SPECTATOR minutes ago and left that umbrella hanging there? You- still, you hardly look like- But he found he was talking to space, for Shorty had vanished and left the umbrella behind. 'Tain't no use A cop won't even look at me tonight, he muttered, as he once more pursued his way down the bril- liantly lighted street. I'm hoodooed, datis a cinch. He wandered aimlessly along. The streets became less brightly lighted. and he found himself in the residential sec- tion of town. It was not far from mid-night by now, and Shorty decided to make one more attempt to secure his win- ter's lodging-place before retiring for the night. He looked about and found himself standing in front of a large house, in which no lights were visible and which was partially screened from the street by two large trees. 'Shorty walked quietly up the steps, across the veranda, and he espied two large windows, one of which he found to be unlocked, and through which he easily forced an entrance. The interior of the house was quite darkg and Shorty was about to start to explore it, when suddenly he paused. From somewhere 'in- side the house there came to him the voice of a woman sing- ing a melody which was, somehow, strangely familiar. As he stopped to listen more closely he distinguished the words, Be it ever so humble There's no place like home. The song went on, and suddenly there came to him a vision of a mother-his mother-singing her child to sleep with this same song. How many years had passed since then, though now it seemed like but yesterday, and what a change those years had wrought in him Then a sweet, innocent child, listening to his mother's song, now-this. His mother, now in Heaven-how proud she had been of her boy then! What great things she had expected of him! How little she had dreamed of his ever coming to what he really was now! He had been a failure-a hopeless failure, He was absolutely worthless! But still-is it too late? There are still many more years to live. Tears gathered in his

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SPECTATOR 11 The more he considered this plan, the more it appealed to him, and so, rising from the bench, he set out over the city, trying to conceive some Way in which he might git pinched. He had not far to go. The second building he passed was brilliantly lighted, and after a glance at the electric sign, Thornton's Restaurant, Shorty disappeared behind its mas- sive doors. Picking up a menu, he ordered the most expens- ive dishes and wines upon it, and ate a dinner the like of which he had not enjoyed for many a day. Eight dollars and sixty-five cents, sir, said the waiter an hour later, presenting the bill. 0ver eight bucks for that feed? Well, it sure was worth it. But mebbe it would int'rest you to know that I hain't got eight cents-let alone the coin for my bill. See? Well, why don't you call a cop ? Why the waiter didn't call a cop Shorty never heard him just exactly explain, for when he opened his eyes, he found himself lying on the pavement in front of the restau- rant, and he had a dim recollection of the waiter's having gently escorted him there by the back of the neck. Ah, rats! I thought that stunt would sure work Guess I'll have to try somethin' else. He crossed the street to where a policeman stood in front of a saloon, and seeing some hope of arrest here, en- tered. He tried to get into an argument with several per- sons, which he hoped might develope into a fight, but, much to his disgust, everyone seemed to be very amiable, and ex- actly agreed with his opinions on all subjects, whatever they happened to be. Then he espied hanging on the railing in front of the bar, a man's crook-handled umbrella. Here, at last, was his chance. He walked over, with all the noise and show possible, and took the umbrella from under the owner's very nose, and started out, expecting to be followed. But the man only looked at him and remarked, quite casu- ally, Your umbrella? So you came back for it? Came back for it?,' echoed Shorty in surprise. Why, yes. Aren't you the man who was in here a few

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sPEcTA'roR 4 13 eyes, and he inwardly resolved to reform, to show the world what he could do, to make a man of himself. Saloons and jails had seen him for the last time. The very next morning he would go and hunt work. He almost shuddered now when he realized what a worthless, good-for-nothing sort of existence he had led. Walking noiselessly over to the win- dow, he went out the way he had entered, quietly descended the steps, and started slowly down the street. Watcha doin' here? he heard in a gruff voice, accom- panied by a touch on the shoulder, and looking round he en- countered a blue-coat glaring at him suspiciously. Why, er-why, I was just goin' home. just been fer a little call in dere, don't ye know? Wall, I guess you kin just come along wit me. There's been too many robberies in this neighborhood lately to have any 'callers' like you hangin' around at this time 0' night. You can come on, an' we'll hear you tell about your call in the morningf' wr ak wr Pk Thirty days, said the judge. And thus began the reformation of Shorty. A Yellow Streak James Piper '16 'S'matter there, big Freshman, that you don't come out for football? Got a yellow streak? asked the captain of the Chester High football team. This was addressed to a tall, muscular young man who was leaning against a tree while he adjusted his books under his arm. Jimmie Worth grinned at this onslaught, then turned, and walked across the street. Coach Winters of the Chester team had already had his boys in the field for five days, and was scraping up all the material he could find. james Worth, the so-called big Freshman, had not yet volunteered and all candidates