Newton High School - Newtonian Yearbook (Newton, MA)

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16 THE NEWTON HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL The young girl, who was spending several weeks of her vacation with this dear little aunt of hers, had learned from experience, and from the instinct of her own generous heart, to restrain her curiosity where her Aunt Marie was concerned. But this time she was genuinely curious. She had never been able to understand her aunt's changing moods, nor had she ever been able to see very deeply into the heart of this sweet little old lady, whom she admired ex- travagantly. This admiration was generously returned by the old lady. The strong, jolly, confident nature of the young girl was almost incomprehensible to her frail, timid, retiring little aunt, who, nevertheless, took great comfort in her strength, and was exceeding proud of her knowledge. Miss Roslind was always glad to have Angelica with her, and perhaps the happiest event in the year for her, was the occasion of Angelica's spring visit. She did not, however, like ,to have her ask questions. Miss Roslind poured the tea, and absent-mindedly dropped three lumps of sugar into her own cup, upset the tea caddy, and coughed violently, before Angelica dared break the awkward silence. Aunt Marie was undoubtedly perturbed. I see you have given me your pet 'Prophetic Cup' this afternoon. Thank you so much, Auntie, she said, as she picked up an odd little fortune-telling cup which had been given to her aunt when she was a girl and which she invariably used for the sake of its associations. May I have some more tea, please ?', asked the girl. The tea is not at all well made, replied Aunt Marie, nervously, I must speak to Katie about it again. But, my dear child, you really must not drink so much tea, it will make you ill. Oh, Auntie, I really don't want the tea, but I do want some more leaves. Did you know that I could tell fortunes beautifully? VVe do it at college all the time, and have such fun. I'm really quite good at it, and with this cup I could do it much better. I have always wanted to use it. Now you just listen, Aunt Marie, and I'll show you what a 'Seer' I am--. Now don't object, please ! Why, of course I'll listen, child, but I shan't believe a word of it, with a furtive motion toward the letter tucked safely away in her dress. Aunt Marie, I see many interesting things here! Yes, the first is a great event-let me see-yes, its going to happen at home. But it comes from far away, and has something to do with horse-reins,-isn't that funny? and--it's a man l He is coming from very far off, and is very grand, he isn't young, nog but he is wise, because, you see, one of the leaves has caught fast over the owl's head. Isn't this exciting? Well, this will be! You are going to have an affair of the heart-isn't that a professional phrase? Yes, I distinctly see a reference to the heart, and there are two leaves over the heart, which means, of course, that it will be a happy affair. But the most important thing, she concluded, laughing, puzzled by her aunt's expression, is about a flower. It means, I'm sure, that those pansies you planted today are going to flourish, and--

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THE NEWTON HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL 15 She is dying, I know .... fHe falls on his knees.D joba, hear me, your son! If I ever was dutiful to you, help me now. She will die, die, can you hear? . . . He will not listen, he, too, turns from me .... Oh, great clouds, cannot ye be touched with pity? . . . Help! . . . i' CHe remains on his knees imploring the inexorable hecwensj A Romance in a Teacup BY JULIA RAYMOND SCHMALZ, 1910 5 T was the first day of the month. june had come in gently, bringing ,Ig with it balmy days, the scent of spring flowers, the busy chirp of YH birds, and the hum of bees. The season had dealt especially kind with the little town of Wetherby, for the rolling fields were now soft and green, and the trees never before looked so stately and luxuriant in their spring regalia. The broad main street was like a green-lighted aisle beneath its canopy of dense, wide-spreading willows, that almost met overhead. The late afternoon sun was beginning to cast long shadows, and the active life of the town seemed suspended for a time. The solitary postman was making his last round for the day, and had stopped rather longer than customary at Miss Roslind's door. He took an especial interest in her geraniums, and also, as he used to say, very seriously, Five minutes with Miss Roslin' is minutes well spent. This afternoon, as usual, Miss Roslind sat sewing on her little square veranda, which was a perfect bower of flowers. The crimson rambler, which ran over the whole front of the quaint little whitewashed house, shut in the veranda like a screen and made it very cosy. There was a window-box in every open latticed window, and a row of them ran down each side of the broad front walk to the little swinging gate. Vases of cut flowers stood on the bamboo tables, and the air was heavy with their perfume. Miss Roslind was sitting at a low tea table which was daintily arranged for two, in her lap her forgotten embroidery, and in her hand an open letter. It must have been an hour later when Angelica came out to the veranda to join her aunt in their customary cup of afternoon tea. The old lady was still sitting, deep in thought, with a far-away, dreamy look in her eyes. She roused herself with a start when she saw her niece, and began to make an unnecessary clatter with the teacups.

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THE NEWTON HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL 17 Angelica Roslind, what are you talking about? Have you-I mean, are you making up all this silly nonsense? Of course I don't believe a word of it, bu-but I can't let you go on. She was preparing to go into the house, and just before she went upstairs she called out to her bewildered niece :- I forgot to tell you, Angelica, but I'm expecting a guest tomorrow, an old friend, Mr. Roberts. i Aunt Marie! you don't mean to say I-. But of course, I just told you someone was coming, and, she added, teasingly, we'll leave the rest to fate and Mr. Roberts, hey, Auntie? But Auntie was gone. It was evening again, but this time the little house on Maple Road was not the scene of such quiet repose as usual. The awaited guest had arrived, and all was astir to bid him welcome. The dainty muslin curtains at the windows fluttered in the cool breeze, and the front door stood wide open. The little mistress herself fluttered back and forth from the piazza to the sitting-room, arranging the newly cut flowers in vases and straightening the disarranged pile of magazines on the piazza table. Had she ever looked daintier, and more girlish? The lavender frock that she wore was low at the neck, and very soft and becoming. The delicate color in her cheeks was heightened by excitement and her silvery hair looked almost golden in the soft light of the late afternoon sun. The evening meal was eaten quietly, but to Angelica's occasional remarks the old gentleman replied in the quaint old-time manner that was particularly fascinating to the young girl. He was a typical old-fashioned gentleman, she thought. Tall, imposing, and still handsome. His gray hair and beard were streaked with white, but his face was ruddy, and his carriage erect. He was not a great talker, but he charmed his hostesses with brief but glowing accounts of his extensive travels and was very enthusiastic in his pleasure at being there. Miss Roslind was cordially hospitable, but very quiet. The evening was spent out in the garden, the old gentleman leisurely smoking his pipe, and going over, in a graphic way, the events of the intervening years, since last he saw his old friendg while she sat with hands folded, her eyes moist, and her heart full, listening again to the voice whose sound had so long been as dead to her ears. Upstairs, alone at her window, Angelica sat thinking, and her cheeks were wet with tears. She had come up to bed with a heavy heart, tonight, with a heart that was touched with an inexpressible sadness. A sudden realization of the pathos of her aunt's life had come over her, and had awakened a note of pain in her sympathetic, loving heart. For the first time she was able to interpret, in the sweet, patient face of the old lady, the record of a broken heart, bravely hidden away. When Angelica was only a little girl, her mother told her that she must always be good and kind to her Aunt Marie, for she had had a great disappointment