Leominster High School - Magnet Yearbook (Leominster, MA)

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12 THE MAGNET swinging his bare legs from his perch on the gate, and whistling with all his lungs. When Reginald appeared, he jumped down and ran to him. “I can’t come out now,” explained the former hurriedly. “I'll meet you down the street bye ’m’ bye.” Just then a voice was heard calling, “ Reggie, Reggie darling, where aré you? Mother wants you to come and see the nice ladies.” So Reginald slipped around to the front door, muttering to himself, ‘‘Old hens!” About twenty minutes later he escaped from the “old hens” and his unsuspecting mother, and raced do wn the street to his trysting place, the corner store, where Peter was lounging on the steps. “Peter,” demanded the child of fortune, ‘‘why can’t I be a newsboy like you?” “Huh!” grunted Peter, surveying him. ‘ You look jes’ like one! Jim- iny crickets!’ and he shook with mirth. “Well,” came doubtedly from his companion, “I’ve got a blue suit and a brown one and—”’ | | “Oh yer see,” explained Peter, ‘you gotta look like me!” Reginald Elsworth’s heart sank like lead. He despaired of ever acquir- ing the artistic scratches, rags, shaggy locks and dirt of Peter. “T tell yer what,” suddenly exclaimed the latter, ‘Yer come along home with me and I’ll fix yer up jes’ swell!” Reginald’s blood immediately changed its course from the soles of his feet to the top of his head. But Peter had already arisen, taking it for granted that Reginald would follow, in which he was quite right. The two little boys set off down the street together. Farther and farther they went; off of public thoroughfares into dirty alleys, where every one stared at Regi- nald in amazement. After a while, when they had trodden a perfect laby- rinth puzzle of thése byways, Reginald’s sturdy little legs began to tire, and finally , tears gathered in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, and just as he was thinking that he must certainly sit down on some slimy doorstep to rest, Peter drew him into a dark doorway and up a flight of cluttered stairs, into a dark, smelly room. ‘De ole man’s out, yer see,’ vouchsafed Peter, as Reginald sank on to a dilapidated old sofa. He didn’t see anything, but he sincerely wished that he had waited until he had his little pony-cart out some morning be- fore he paid Peter a visit. He had entirely forgotten the object of his visit. But Peter hadn’t. ‘“Yer’ll have ter shed de footgear,” he proclaimed with authority. . Reginald was doubtful about the advisability of this. His mother had told him that morning that it was too cool for him to go barefooted while he played in the sand-pile. He hadn’t thought of his mother before—but of course white sandals and stockings were out of the question for a news- boy; so off came the offending articles. His legs appeared awfully white beside Peter’s. But Peter had a remedy. Running out, he soon returned with his hands full of mud which he placed ona broken dish. Then he made Reginald take off his white sailor suit. Then he produced from some-

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THE MAGNET 7 had gone. Later in the day we heard that the mail carrier’s horse was missing, and that he found three one hundred dollar bills tacked up in the horses stall. I did not connect the two events at first, but suddenly I re- membered. The day that Tex had ridden the colt he had told me about a horse he used to have that was all black but a white spot the size of a dollar on his neck. ‘‘ Happy,” the mail carrier's horse, and the one he had told me of, were one and the same horse. I heard of Tex only twice since; once when a relative of father’s wrote to him and said he had hired a man who looked like a cowboy and who had a fine black horse. Another time long afterwards I received a package containing a large 44, and the words “‘ From Tex,” in a cramped writing. As to what became of him and his horse I never knew. ALBERT G. Lauzow, '15. Keeping Up With Peter EGINALD ELSWORTH WARNER sat sulkily in the library window- R seat, alternately sucking his thumb and decorating the glass with his initials. What did he care about Bridge Parties? Bridge parties always meant an extra scrubbing and combing, and spending the afternoon in the drawing-room with a lot of ladies in silks and plumes who called him “such a dear little fellow,” and ‘‘so cute.”” And he always had to pass the cake, too. Of course some one invariably took the very piece he had his eye on, and he had to be satisfied with what was left. Reginald had only regarded this as one of the evils of life which every- one had to put up with; that is, until he met Peter. Peter had completely reformed his ideas. Huh! white stockings, Peter said he didn’t wear them. In fact, Reginald had never seen him wear any. And Peter earned money. He sold papers. Yesterday he bought a base ball. When Reginald told his father, he gave him fifty cents to buy one. But that wasn’t the same as earning it. And then just as soon as Peter rolled it in the mud for him, and spit on it, and,got it nice and black and disreputable, like his own, why then, Reginald’s mother had found it and in horror had thrown the beautiful thing into the fire. She called it ‘ perfectly disgusting,” but it wasn’t, and Regi- nald had cried over it so much that she had given him a big rubber one with pictures on it. ‘A rubber ball with pictures,” Reginald thought that was disgusting and he threw it out the window into the pansy bed, so he had to stay in the nursery all the morning. Just as he got that far in his meditations he heard a familiar whistle. At the same time he heard his mother coming for him, so he pushed open the long French window and stepped out on to the terrace. Peter was

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THE MAGNET 13 where a pair of overalis and a shirt, very scant and much the worse for wear, and a disreputable coat, which he helped him put on. Then he smeared his face, hands, and legs, with the mud, and put an old cap on his head. ‘Now come on!” he cried, very proud of his work. Reginald hung back. He was very tired. ‘Come on,” said Peter; ‘If we don’t sell de papers, we’se get no supper.” No supper! nonsense! of course he should go home for supper. But it must be nearly supper time now, and he could hear them al! asking where he was. “ Den, if we’se sell enough papers,” continued Peter, ‘‘ we'se’ll go to de nickel show.” This got Reginald. Nickel show! He had never been to one. Of course he was tired, but what did that matter. So taking half of Peter’s papers, he followed him down stairs,—‘‘ and then,” Peter ran on, ‘we'll git a hot dog before we’se goes home ter bed;—ye’ll sleep wid me, yer know.” Sleep with Peter in that dirty room! Why, what would his mother say! There was no time to think, however, for Peter was saying, ‘‘ You’se kin take Nixon’s corner, and I'l] go down to de mill.’ It was quite damp and cold out for September, and Reginald, unaccustomed to such exposure, shivered and clicked his teeth. At Nixon’s corner Peter left him with the injunction to “git rid o’ de bunch,” and Reginald looked around him in be- wilderment. Never before had he been so completely bewildered. Several men bought papers, but others, seeing his hesitation and inability to make change, patronized more accustomed “ newsies.” Reginald wondered why Peter didn’t come back. He was hungry and tired. He didn’t believe that he wanted to visit the nickel show anyway— two big tears rolled down his face. He guessed— The tears were brushed hastily away, as an old gentleman emerged from the doorway. The papers were dropped hastily to the sidewalk, while Reginald, crying, ‘‘Oh! grandpa! grandpa!’ flung himself into the arms of the astonished man. ‘Bless my soul!” ejaculated the old gentleman, putting on his glasses; ‘Bless my soul!” Then, as Reginald poured out his story between laughter and tears, ‘Bless my soul!” he again exclaimed. An hour later, clean and fed once more, his head pillowed on his mother’s shoulder, while his father and grandfather sat by in joyful veunzon, he murmured sleepily, “‘’ Taint much fun bein’ like Peter after all, I guess.” DorOTHY SPALDING, ’16.