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Page 77 text:
THE ORIOLE Page 73 “Dot you can. Dot you can. Vich is tie . Olga! vot did l tell you? Dis chile, she has a nature just like her fad- der. Ach! a temper; she’s just a chip-o’-t he-ole-block. Yy he ” “1 beg your pardon, madam, but you are soiling my dress with your bundle and basket,” said a voice just behind the German woman. “Vot did you say? Oh, mine chile, I’m so torry. Ach an’ such a pretty one too-be-sure. Vel, vel.” “Madam, what is it you wish to learn?” “Yes, yes. Vot vus it? Oh, yes. Vich is dc . . . . Olga! door to de . . . Olga! . . . street?” “The second to the right, madam. Next?” As the German woman left still scolding “Olga” for not letting her talk to the “nice young man,” the young lady polite- ly asked on which track she would find the train to Riverton. “The third track, the train facing toward the west,” an- swered the clerk. “Thank you, " and as she moved away the clerk’s eyes followed her, and when the next man asked him how he could get to the postoffice, he answered absently, “Third track, train facing toward the west.” Manola Mitchell, ' 28.
Page 76 text:
Page 72 THE ORIOLE INFORMATION HE window oi the information bureau of the rail- way station slowly raised; the sight which met the clerk’s eyes made him say to himself, “Now I’m in for a day of it.” First, there is a traveling sales- man, wearing a checked suit and a large, loud, red tie. Next, a talkative German woman, with one arm hampered w ith a basket, while in the same hand carried a bundle of clothes; her other hand was busily occupied in making gestures as she talked. A small child was whimpering by her side and holding tight to her mother’s skirts. The third person was an im- patient, fashionably dressed young lady, who was trying to keep her own neat clothes from touching those of the German woman. And on down the line, one after another, some ex- cited, some calm . . . but all anxious to secure some par- ticular information. As the clerk was still glancing down the line of people, a voice broke in upon his meditations, “Say, what do you think this is? A study hall? I want to know what time the first train runs that goes to San Fran- cisco, and l want to know quick.” “W ell, it is supposed to run in about fifteen minutes, but it .... ” “Supposed to run! Well, isn ' t it?” “ . . . . will run in about an hour and a half,” continued the clerk as if he had not been interrupted. “Well, I’ll be hanged! Why on earth don’t they run trains on time? My time is valuable. Why isn’t it running on time?” “A wreck is holding it up about fifty miles from here, and if that is all, sir, there are other people back of you who are waiting for you to move on.” “Humph, I’ll move when I get ready,” said the salesman, but nevertheless he stepped out of line, and the German woman moved up. “Ach! I toucht that man voud nefer moved. In all dose checks an’ all dose red tie, he look to me lak he just stepped . . . Olga! How many dimes must I tell you not to vimper like dot? Now vot vas I saying? Oh, yes, about dose young man. Ach, have to buy mine ole man a tie like dot “Really, madam, is there anything I can do for you?” the clerk said, with a smile on his face.
Page 78 text:
A A A A • Page 74 THE ORIOLE MEMORY AT wonderful sense called memory is like a beauti- ful lake on whose brink we stand gazing into its blue deep, watching the faces that come and go. In this lake of memory shall lurk a beautiful picture of our dear old high school and all the little child- ren that help to carry on its work. We will see our friends and our loved ones, as they merrily go through life, each living up to the ideals of our school. We must all go out into this vast world to carve a future, alone, for ourselves, yet the future cannot weaken memory, which will fight its way to our sight, and as a swallow in the south, it will persuade us to come back again, where our noblest ideals will find foothold in our dear high school. Sitting before the fireplace many years from now, memory will carry us on the swift wings of time, back over the plains of the intervening years and as the embers glow so will our love for our school- mates increase as we watch our friends in the game all crowded around the old piano, singing with a voice that vibrates with love and loyalty, “True to the Orange and Black.” Violet Turpin.
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