Shields High School - Patriot Yearbook (Seymour, IN)

Page 25 text:

She took the child in her arms and inquired of Cyrus, Is there a hotel here? Taney Town has one hotel, stammered Cyrus, but who wants such a fairy child as that to be taken to that dingy place? We have a spare room, so come home with me. Hugh, dear, she said, wheeling to face the dark-skinned young man who entered. The postmaster says he ' s a spare room. It ' s mighty fine of you. My name ' s Laidlow — my wife and child. And I ' m Cyrus Holmes. Supper went well. Mr. and Mrs. Laidlow hailed from New York and were jolly young people. Mrs. Laidlow and Mother talked of jams while Sylvia played with Dickie. Cyrus, finding himself superfluous slipped away to the loft when the meal was over. Dickie padded after him, Sylvia trailing. On the threshold she caught her breath. ' ' Oh, ' ' she cried, dropping to the floor bf eore the little colonial house. Sylvia ' s house. Does Sylvia like it now? But now, Uncle Cy ' s forgotten. We ' re going to make a bon-fire out of this great big beautiful house. Sylvia can watch it burn. No. cried the child, stamping her foot. No, Sylvia ' s house. And suddenly bursting into tears she ran sobbing from the barn. Cyrus was still standing helpless when she returned dragging her mother with her. Why, it ' s colonial. Even the spinning wheel, exclaimed Mrs. Laidlow. Her glance leapt from one house to another. Claire ' s crazy over colonial stuff, her husband remarked coming in. You ' ve struck her hobby. She haunts unique places. But you ' ve struck something else, he said, eyes narrowing. I sold a doll house to a wealthy customer last Christmas for a hundred and fifty dollars. I ' m in the business, and if I had a couple of these for window features — ' ' Down here in a little town like this, when he ' s so marvelous. Why, Hugh, it isn ' t right. Anyone who can design things like this ought to do something big, Mr. Holmes. I was going to, once. Cyrus ' eyes were vague like an old man ' s but I been building doll houses so long, I doubt if I could ever do anything else. Bosh, cut in the younger man. The value of the things is in the uniqueness. ' ' Later mother found an envelope in the house containing fifty dollars from Mrs. Laidlow for the doll house. Seems like robbery, said Cy, but I guess Mr. Laidlow knows. Here Bee, take this money and go to the dance tonight, will you? . His daughter stared at the money in bewilderment; then took the note from her mother ' s hand and read it twice.

Page 24 text:

Dan ' s voice carried to him from the gateway where he heard, Why, your father — . The words trailed off into nothingness. If you won ' t understand then — I won ' t go to the dance with you, ' he heard from Bee. What ever the fault it was not Dan ' s, he thought, as he slipped into the kitchen door. Why had his name been mentioned in the talk at the gate? The following day Miss Polly Primsall, who saw Cyrus dressing a little colonial lady to rule over a colonial house (and which he had smuggled down to the postoffice to work on during slack hours) declar ed, It ' s wors ' n Sam Dean who knits. There ' s some sense in his knitting. Cy, who overheard the expression, knew she was comparing him to a man who had a mind like a woman ' s. This contempt touched him in a raw spot. The first real blow fell on the following morning, however, when Tom Dillon, President of the Union Bank and the big political man of Taney Town, quietly informed Cy that he was serving his last term as postmaster. Yet Cy had been so faithful to his work, and moreover without a single complaint from Dillon. Cyrus finished the morning routine and found himself alone in his own barn loft. There was something back of it — Tom Dillon who had been a friend from school days; and if Tom switched there was a reason. He had felt for a week as if something was working against him ; as though the whole town had a secret from which he alone was shut out. Sitting there by the open window Cyrus heard voices and a sound like falling pebbles. Mother and Bee were shelling peas on the back porch. It ' s been growing on him, sighed Mother, But you are a foolish girl, Bee. Dan ' s folks would get over it. I tell you I can ' t do it. Dan is hard to manage, Mother. If I could only get away. We ' ve got to be careful, though. Dad mustn ' t suspect it. If we could only get the play houses away from him, and get his mind on something else. So that was it — . The meaning of the misunderstanding between Bee and Dan, the reason Dodo was no longer safe with him, and the reason he could no longer be postmaster. They thought he, Cyrus Holmes was insane. He would show them. He would burn the doll houses, and stay home nights, reading the newspaper as other men did. The people were fools, every one of them. Back at the postoffice he sat brooding over the little colonial house when suddenly the door slammed and standing before him was a vision. A child whose golden hair and shell-pink daintiness suggested a fairy princess done in water-colors. The child stood laughing up at Cyrus. She reminded him of Dodo, but instead of being round like a gum drop, she was fragile like a rose petal, and he realized that her frock was unknown in the little town of Taney. Sylvia. Oh, Sylvia, called a woman ' s voice which Cyrus knew to be strange. Naughty girl, scolded the mother, She runs away.

Page 26 text:

On a September morning two months later, Cyras sat in the postoffice and re- read the amazing article on Uncle Cy — The Man Who Builds Doll Houses. True, it was only a little People Who Are Doing Curious Things article squeezed into a half a page; but the magazine was very prominent. Even Tom Dillon was urging Cy to start his bank account with the Union Bank, for, he pointed out to Cy, that so much money left around the house might be stolen. Well, I might consider giving Bee the position she wanted, laughed Dillon. No, she and Dan are going to be married, I think, replied Cy. I see, twinkled Dillon, and I can ' t say I ' m surprised. Tom left Cy in a splendid stupor which he came out of to find Dodo ' s small face tilted toward him. His heart fell — she covered her face with a tiny hand as if in fear. But wait — she was peeping at him through spreading fingers, laughing. Cyrus was only conscious of the smiling neighbors as he swung her up to the window ledge. Could Uncle Cy use pretty stones that Dodo finds, could he? she asked, patting his cheek. Pretty stones? His hand clasped over her sticky fists. Why Uncle Cy could use pretty stones any number of ways. Alice Cobb small round hole, a little mouse, The mouse creeps from his tiny house. A square steel trap with grim aspect, Has many a mouse ' s family wrecked. Within the trap the mousie sees A golden, luscious piece of cheese. The mousie doubts, yet tempted feels, And toward that piece of cheese he steals. A frightened squeak, a sinister snap, And mousie ' s caught in the cruel trap. So let me then the moral map, Where there is cheese, beware the trap ! A