Hudson High School - True Blue Yearbook (Hudson, WI)

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24 TRUE BLUE. it would undoubtedly command a very high price. Although good pearls were a rarity in restaurant oysters, he had sometimes eecuied them, and once he had sold a small one for fifty dollars. This new pearl would undoubtedly command a great price. “Will you take your coffee now sir?, queried Sylvester, bending over in order that he might gain a closer view of the bright shining pearl. “Yes, 1 am through. Haveyou a Ville Vallar?” “I believe so sir,” replied Sylvester, suppressing his surprise at the mention of a cigar so choice, that the price of a sniff of it, would purchase several good cigars. He hurried back with the box and Mr. de Folivour selected two or ihe cigars, plac- ing one in his pocket, clipping the end off the other neatly and turning it in his mouth. Sylvester applied a match to the tip of it, his eyes on the pearl, his mind on some method by which he might procure it. His limitd time was growing short. Our worthy gentleman, Mr. de roiivour, had already pushed back his chair, pulled down his vest and wiped off his chin, and showed signs of leaving shortly. Sylvester arranged the ash tiay for him, endeavoring to place the hollow bottom of it over the jewel. De Falivour prevented this by taking the tray from Sylvester’s fingeis and asking absently for his bill. The pearl still lay tempt.ngly on the cloth as Sylvester returned with a long item- ized account, amounting to neany twenty dollars, which seemed a highly suitable sum tor such a diner. Syi ester quickened at that htought as he placed the bill before Mr. de Folivour. That gentleman reached mechanically into his vest pocket for his wallet, brought out his hand empty, looked up at Sylvester with the same quick smile and muttered “odd 1 haven't my wallet with me.” “Fossibly someone relieved y'ou of it Sir,” suggested Sylvester drawing nearer and trying to drop his moist itching palm carelessly over the pearl. “No, 1 m sure it’s just absent-mindedness. 1 must have left it at home. If you’ll call your manager I’ll give h.m my card and relieve you of any responsibility.” And the gentleman stretched forth his hand idly and picked up the pearl just as Sylvester s nervous fingers were about to close over it. He held it up and gazed at it musingly through the rich scented smoke of his cigar, as Sylvster turned to do his b.dding. De Folivour did not look up as Sylvester took two short steps and then returned to the table, standing silently at a respectful distance as though he wished to speak of something. Receiving no attention, he cleared his throat politely, aristocratically': “If you please, sir,” he began in an almost man to man tone, “I can help you out sir, if you wish. You need r.ot tioutle about this bill sir, I shall be pleased to attend to that if you will give me the pearl as a trifling memento, sir.” “This pearl?” asked Mr. de Folivour drolly, holding up the shimmering jewel. “Yes, it will cover everything.” “But, my dear fellow, it’s likely that this bauble that nearly broke my tooth, is worth five, six, or maybe seven hundred dollars. I’ve seen them valued at that in rings.” “Ah, but sir, to a man like you”—Sylvester put it nicely, wistfully, with all the skill at his command, drawing the comparison of their stations delicately—“to you it is a little thing. To me—my wife is a lover of jewels, sir, her birthday is next week. Perhaps you have a wife sir. We would both be so grateful.” “Your wife, eh? She’d like it,” mused Mr. de Folivour, dubiously . He weighed the jewel carefully and glancd keenly at the brazen waiter. The whimsical smile disappeared as though he were convinced ot the fellow’s hon- esty. Gazing at the pearl, he rubbed his first finger over it carelessly, as though he could actually feel its velvety sheen; then placing it into Sylvester’s hand, he rose smilingly, “For your wife then, with my sincerest compliments,” he laughed. “Thank you sir, thank you,” cried Sylvester, thrilled to the core, as he had been on a day ten years back, when a Standard Oil mgnate had given him tip which served as a corner stone for the comfortable fortune he had built upon it. As Sylvester came with the hat and stick and cape, he slipped a five dollar bill about the shapely head of the cane and pressed it firmly into the gentleman's hand. “You’ll need taxi fare, sir. Good night, sir, good night,” he said beamingly. Mr. de Folivour looked at the bill slightly; then the same smile shone on his face. “Stiange fellow that, unusually grateful,” he exclaimed i.o himself, turning to -• after Sylvester. But the waiter had already hurried off to the pretty cashier, to pay the bill lest his patron change his mind. “Well, maybe I’ll need it de Folivour said aloud, with that odd little twist of a smile. Gazing about, as he sauntered into the street, stopping to get a quill tooth- pick, and chat with a sweet little blond, who sat smiling behind the cashier’s desk. After strolling aiound for a while he stopped in at a roof garden, watched the show for a couple of hours with ieserved enjoyment, smoked his second cigar, had a few drinks and then went home. Th next evening he strolled again on Wabasha street. On the corner of Seventh

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TRIE RE IE. Xiterarv A nervous-looking gentleman, caiessing a cigaiette in the corner of his mouth, entered a fashionable cafe. He wore an English cape over evening clothes and a heavy silk hat, which was pressing a deep ring into h.s forehead. A friendly head waiter seated him in one of the most comfortable corners in the loom, tilted the paper lamp shade at an agreeable angle and slid the menu cross the table within easy reach. A waiter came, took his order and suggested a d.sh or two, seeming to enjoy the leisurely mannered 01 dering as greatly as did the gentleman himself. When he had received his cocktail, the gentleman settled back comfortably, sipping and smoking till the waiter should again return w th his bluepoints. They came pres- ently on a heaping plate of ice, glistening and cold, arianged delicately between crisp sprigs of green. He seasoned them, carefully balanced his fork in his fingers for a moment, put it down again beside his piate and sipped a little of the fresh, frosty cock- tail. Then intensely keyed up for the appetizing morsel, he plucked a plump bivalve fiom its shell and dropped it into his mouth, chewing it slowly and appreciatively, thereby getting the full benefit of its flavor. The waiter, standing ready to serve, watched him with almost reverent respect as it was exactly his idea of the manner in which a gentleman should order and eat his dinner. He stepped over and moved a cracker dish deftly with just that little personal touch that made the diner feel quite at home. Suddenly the gentleman gave a start. The attentive sonant bent forwaid anx- iously, and looked into his face. The w’rinkles over one eye were drawn together in an expression of pain. A corner of the gentleman's mouth twitched as though he had bitten on some foreign substance in that seventh oyster. The waiter hovered about gravely; the other drew out his handkerchief, and passed it over his mouth, removing a poifect pink pearl and dropping it moist ar.d .‘hiring on the white cloth. The waiter, too w'ell bred to exclaim, stood back with a well suppressed sigh of lelief as the pearl was dropped beside a water glass. After the oyctei course, S' vester—for that was the name of the waiter—with an apparently innocent movement, to sweep the pearl off the cloth among th carcker crumbs, but the gentleman, Mr. Archi- bald de Folivour, according to the calling cards in his vest pocket case—put out his hand and covered the pearl, at the same time looking up at the conscious Sylvester with a quick smile. “I beg pardon, sir, said Sylvester, maintaining his stolid expression. Mr. de Folivour nodded in recognition of the ready apology, and pushed the pearl out of the way behind his wine glass. His interest in the dishes that followed in satisfying and perfect order, evidently blotted all thoughts of the jewel out of his mind. When the salad was removed Sylvester again essayed accidentally from the table into his waiting hand, as he moved the goblet to refill it. Mi. de Folivour glanced up at him sharply from beneath heavy eyebrows, and again his sensitive mouth twitched whim- sically. “Oh sir, pardon! I d‘d not see it! Pardon! “cried Sylvester with seeming con- fus;on. deeming some emphasis necessary in explanation of his second carefully-cal- culated blunder. Mr. de Folivour nodded again ar.d reached his slender smooth hand, picked up the gem, and examined it critically in the glare of teh wee lamp. Sylvester also took occasion to note that the pearl was perfectly round and of a rich flesh luster;

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25 T R U E B L U E . streat he paused, drew his eyebrows thoughtfully togethei and remarked to himself: “Guess I'll have a few oysters with my dinner tonight. Stepping into a dark doorway he took a tiny box fiom his vest pocket. Selecting a large pink pearl (at random) from the two dozen wax ones the stock contained, I placed it carefully in his handkerchief, so that he could conveniently slip the ten-cent gem into his mouth and mobten its wax'- suiiace, that the glitter of it should not fail to catch the greedy e e of the waiter, whom l ate might select to sene him hi3 next plate of oysters. Willis Thom, ’21 DAD’S INVENTION. A faint knock came at the laboratory door, followed by persuasive voice. “Dad- dy, Norton is in the parlor, and Mary says he won’t go until I see him. Shall 1 tell h m what you think? The door opened and a face surrounded by fluffy brown hair appeared. “Please, daddy. It will only take a second. At the interruption Dr. Page turned quickly to glare at the intruder; then the frown vanished and he smiled into his daughter’s deep gray eyes. “No, girl, you run along toyour room. I’ll tell him what I think of him as my future son-in-law. Run along. It won’t hurt him to wait, lazy scoundrel that he is. As the door closed after his daughter he thought to himself: “Trying to rop. Betty in. The good-for-nothing loot! , Then suddenly he went to the case and took out a small sprayer, which he put in his pocket. “This will be a fine way to convince Betty and try my invention at the same time. As he opened the door, Betty was sitting on the top step looking mournfully out the porch door. “There! You are too late, now he’s gone—he’s gone,” she ended dismally. “Just as well, replied her father, “I’m going down to the city now. You stay here. I’ll be home soon. Don’t worry, he added, “you can’t get rid of him till he’s kicked out. On the business thoroughfare Dr. Hale stopped and gazed thoughtfully at a deaf- and-dumb man who was begging alms of a passerby. In a flash, his hand slipped in- to his pocket. An instant later the public was astounded to see the once deaf-and- dumb man crying out: “I’m not dumb, I’m not deaf. I’m a fake. I did it to get money. The public looked about in vain for the cause of this confession. As Hale walked along he felt very happy. His invention had been successful. While in this mood a stiange chaiacter attracted his attention. An old man,, trembling with age, with long white whiskers and hair. Why not try it once on this fellow? In a moment the public saw an old man snatching off his hair and whiskers —a man whose face bore imprints of guilt and crime. This time, however, the Doctor had not noticed the presence of two policemen. In a moment, before he could gather his unsteady nerves, he was in the patrol auto being conveyed to the police station. Just how it happened that he w’ent in poor and came out rich, with $5,000 in his pocket, he could never tell. That night Norton had appeared as Mr. Hale had expected. The Doctor was eyeing him distrustfully, then suddenly the preparation was shot into the eyes and mouth of the astonished suitor. Betty, who had been hiding behind the curtains i ' the music room,stepped out. Norton was talking at the top of his voice: “Betty I love you, I truly love you, although your father is an old nut! Betty stood silent no longer, but quickly ran to her lover’s arms. Dr. Haie climbed the stairs. Anger, unbelief and a lurking humor were written on his face. He threw' the bottle out the window and smiled weakly as it touched the bottom. Norton was right. He was an old nut. A twinkle appeared in the brown eyes and in a moment the Doctor was smiling. Well, he had money to give her a fine w’edding! Five thousand dollars didn’t come in so unhandy after all. M. K ’19