Plainfield High School - Milestone Yearbook (Plainfield, NJ)

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SHH SORWACIE, 3 milk spurted out of the feeding bottle, he was trying to manipulate with the other. The baby squalled and kicked at the unexpected drenching. “°Tis not a success ye are as a nurse, I’m afeared,” continued old Mike Conlin, as he pressed the tobacco down in his unlighted pipe, and con- tentedly sucked on the mouthpiece. ‘“What’s that, child?” he asked, as his little daughter, Maggie, who had been leaning against him watching Tom’s efforts in the feeding line, whispered in his ear, “Can yer hold the babby? Why, I’m sure yer can, if Tom will let yer. Here, let Maggie try her hand.” Tom passed the baby over with an anxious look, and a, “Be careful of her back, Maggie.” “The little nine-year-old girl hugged the baby close, and crooned a soft Irish lullaby. As she walked up and down the room, she slipped into the tiny hand part of a stick of peppermint candy, she had been chewing. Instinct carried the candy to the baby mouth, the fretful wailing gradually ceased, and Katie slept. Tom, sitting tilted back in his chair, had been an awestruck observer, and, in a whisper asked Maggie how she had man- aged to subdue his little daughter so easily. “Sure, I gave her me candy. All babbies like candy.” “Yes, but ’tis bad fer such a little one.” “Nonsense, twill warm her in’ards, and stop the pain. ‘Tis only peppermint, and good fer colic,’ and old Mike took a match from his pocket, lit it carefully, heaved a deep sigh, and blew it out regretfully, for Tom would not permit smoking where the baby was. “°Tis bad fer the little one to breathe in,’ he always answered when Mike Conlin expostulated, “Can’t yer wait, man, until yer out in the air, or in yer own home?” and Mike would sigh and solace himself as best he could with his unlit pipe. After that, Tom always kept a supply of peppermint candy on hand, and many a night’s good sleep he owed to its effect on Katie, for it was hard to work all day, and wake all night. Mrs. Brophy often told him, he would ruin the child’s stomach, and vaguely hinted at worms; but Katie throve. Every night Tom Kavanagh tucked her, and a stick of candy into the cot bed, before he went out for his chat, and glass of beer with his cronies at the corner saloon. As Katie grew older, and began to play on the streets, kind hearted Mrs. Brophy found it an almost impossible task to keep an eye on the active child, for she had her own family to look after. Tom had always

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2 A PSORACLE, that she has done for the class. So, in appreciation, we of I91I wish her the greatest happiness and highest success in the years to come, and leave with her our heartfelt, loving thanks. The Chess Club Every class, in passing out of a school, leaves behind some permanent mark of its existence. It is splendid to leave an example of fine class and school spirit for the under-graduates, and equally worthy to hand down to other classes a new institution, tending to broaden the schoo! life, and representing an entirely different opportuity for pleasure. In our course, here, we have always striven to keep up the school traditions and to live up to the Plainfield High School Idea. Moreover, under the leadership of several of our members, we have instituted the Chess Club, that has gained the interest of both the Faculty and the student body ard has every prospect of a successful future. With the support of the school next year, it ought to flourish, and so remain an everlasting monument to the energy and initiative ability of the class of 1911. One of Many Donna A. Campbell (Winner of Babcock Prize) Life somehow had not proved very pleasant to little Katie Kavanagh, she had no recollection of the frail young mother, who had given up life as hers began; but the memory of her father, cheery, lusty Tom Kavanagh, was a bright and shining star. He had loved her, tended her in his awkward way, and dried her tears; and to him she owed the supreme development of her abnormal taste for candy. After her mother’s death when she, a sickly infant, had cried for the loving care denied her, he had walked the floor hour after hour trying vainly to pacify her. “Yez ought to put the childer in some institushun, Tom,” old Mike Conlin said, “’Tis too much fer a lone widdy man to worrick all day, and walk all night with a fretful babby.” But the father only smiled, and pressed the little mite closer to his heart, as he answered, “I shall manage somehow, Mike. ’Tis poor Kate’s babby, and I couldn’t bear to part with her, besides, ’tis only fair I should tend her nights when Mrs. Brophy has the care of her days,” and he trotted little Katie gently on his knee, holding her with one big hand, while the

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4 THE ORACLE. kept the rooms across the hall from Mrs. Brophy, where he had brought his girl bride, and after her death, his neighbor had taken care of the rooms and attended to the baby, besides giving Tom his meals, for a very modest sum. Now that Katie was growing older, he received advice that it was his duty to marry again, and give the child a mother. Old Mike voiced public opinion, when he said, “Yez ought to have a woman of ver own, Tom; the little gal needs a mother, and ‘tis yer duty by her,” Tom as ustial only smiled, “We've got along so far. I guess we can get along a few years more, and then Katie will be old enough to kape house fer her dad in foine style, eh kiddie?” His little daughter threw her arms around his brawny neck with a burst of affection. Shaking her tousled head violently at old Mike, she told him to, “Go long wid yer, Mike Conlin, I don’t like yer. I know what yer want, yer want father to marry Rosy Murphy; but he won’t, he won’t!” and she screamed and stamped her foot with each word. “Oh, what a little tiger cat ye are, Katie; but don’t yer worry, ye’ll make a foine housekaper fer yer father. Then some day ye'll git mar- ried and leave poor old daddy out in the cold—” “I won't! I won’t!” bursting into tears, “And I hate yer, Mike Conlin, I do!” “There, there, never mind, me candy kid, you and father will allus stick together,” and he smoothed the tangled curls with his rough hand. “Now quit yer foolin’, Mike, and don’t worrit the child, just see how she trimbles.” Bs k 2 2 x Katie was a big girl of nine now, and still the queen of her father’s heart. Every day she went to school, and made rapid progress, for had not father promised, that when she had graduated from the grammar school, she should keep house for him. Sunday afternoons when it was pleasant weather, they could be seen either on a bench in the park listen- ing to the music, or on a Coney Island boat. Sometimes he took her down to the great bridge which was building, and pointed out where, high in the air, he worked driving rivets. Katie would shudder and cling closer to his hand, as her eyes grew big with terror. “Oh, daddy, ain’t yer afeared away up there?” “No, not afeared, allanna, only just a bit lonesome.” “But if yer should fall?” and a’ queer catch came in her voice.