South Pasadena High School - Copa de Oro Yearbook (South Pasadena, CA)

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MARY LOIS BAKER, ’14 KATHRYN “Oho! From Missouri ?” “Yes, Missouri, but she can’t help that.” “But Missouri! Say, fellows, something’s going to happen when yon Missouri comes to gay Paree! Crickety wow! Missouri! Missouri!!” The shouting echoed through the hall of the New York Polytechnic, as a group of athletes gathered around William Burnstan, their honored captain, while that handsome fellow attempted to tell of a fair young cousin expected next day from Jersey, Missouri. Vainly he tried to quiet them, explaining that her father had been a very successful stock-raiser and that Kathryn, now an orphan, was a “dandy” girl and coming to live with them awhile. “Aw, Bill, don’t you realize it’s Missouri?” “Sure, I know Missouri,” laughed William, “but I sy, come over tomorrow evening and meet Kathryn, won’t you? She’ll be interested in school affairs and football, I’m sure. But, whew,” (looking at his watch), “T’ve got to be going. So long,” and William was off. ee eee ieee} With crashing and creaking the heavy train stopped in the crowded central station. Eagerly William Burnstan watched the arrivals: an elder- ly lady, carrying a bandbox and crying in shrill tones after a porter who was gingerly holding a birdcage at arm’s length, “Be keerful 0’ Polly, thére, she ain’t never been to Nu Yawk afore;” a young couple with a new leather suitcase to which was dangling a French-heeled slipper of which they were evidently entirely obvious; two young ladies, one wearing a pink silk dress, white pumps and a large hat, one side of which was weighted down with immense yellow roses; a couple of Italians with several small children, each dragging behind the one in front—such persons passed before Wil-

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liam’s observation, but no demure, bashful, neat-appearing young lady did he see to answer his mental picture of his cousin, Miss Kathryn Burn- stan. Greatly disappointed, William left the station, but outside found some of his football friends. “T say, Bill, where’s Kathryn from Missouri? Didn’t come? Too bad she can’t show us. Nothin’ doin’ tonight, I s’pose ?”’ “Sure thing, come along! Kathryn may have escaped me and gone out to the house. She has the address. Anyhow, depend on us for having a good time.” “All right, Bill. It’s always a good time at the Burnstan’s.” Consequently several well-groomed, athletic-looking fellows were as- sembled in the Burnstan drawing-room a few hours later, evidently enjoy- ing themselves immensely. But the expected pleasure of the evening was still uppermost in their minds and, when the doorbell rang, they were actually flipping pennies to see who was to have, next to William, the honor of the first introduction to Miss Kathryn—if that young lady ever did arrive. Almost breathlessly they listened for the name, hardly daring to hope it might be the expected guest. Mrs. Burnstan’s low but clear voice was distinctly heard saying, ‘““And are you Kathryn?” “Yes’m. They calls me that sometimes, but mostly Kitty.” “T’m so glad to see you, dear, but sorry that William did not meet you. I hope you have had no trouble finding us?” “No’m. I had yer address. You know, Mrs. But Mrs. Burnstan was leading the girl into the drawing room and the sentence remained unfinished as she gazed with wide-open eyes at the young men who came toward her. “Are these all your’n?” asked the bewildered girl as she looked won- deringly into one and another of their handsome faces. “Oh, no, my dear,” laughed gentle Mrs. Burnstan, “though I almost wish they were. Only one is my very own—this one, William.” William welcomed the girl sincerely and, as he introduced his friends, tried to lessen her embarrassment by telling of their varying merits and achievements. But his disappointment must have been keen as he recog- nized the simple country girl who had amused him at the station. Her hair was not exactly auburn—more nearly what he would call “carrots.” Now it was falling over her face and that big hat adorned with the yellow roses was balanced with evident difficulty. “Cousin Kathryn, John Coleman, our yell-leader.” Kathryn caught her breath and was going to explain, but William, not noticing, was sayi ng, “Harry Cillard, our full-back, Cousin Kathryn.” “B—but Willie,” broke in the now desperate girl, “you’re all mistaken about me. I’m not Miss Kathryn, I mean her that’s your cousin. I come from Missouri all right with Miss Kathryn, but I lost her at the station an’ I waited so ” Kitty stopped short and looked with wonder at Mrs. Burnstan, who