Weymouth High School - Campus / Reflector Yearbook (Weymouth, MA)

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owner of The Standish Times had purchased the rights of the Standish Manufacturing Company. This company began to grow, as had The Times. In a month, Mr. Edward Sidney (a name which Sid had been using) had not only made a success of two fast failing businesses in the city, but had also written a book, What College Didn ' t Do for Me. The first thing Mr. Edwards did when he found that the unknown procedure was legal was to direct a detective agency to find the owner of the mill and The Times. The next day the detective reported to him. I ' ve found him, Mr. Edwards; he is at present in the office of the Manufacturing Com- pany. I hope I didn ' t do wrong, sir ; I told him to expect an important gentleman in twenty minutes. In twenty minutes Mr. Edwards walked into the office of the Standish Manufacturing Com- pany, and was surprised to see his son sitting there. Sid, boy, you ' re working! Why, I didn ' t even know you were in town. Are you secre- tary to the mysterious Mr. Sidney? No. Whom do you wish to see? I want to see the owner. I ' ve an appoint- ment. The owner? Oh, he ' s right here! This is no time for fooling, Sidford. I must see Mr. Sidney, and at once! Sid rose from his chair, stood up to his full height, and could he be blamed if, besides the tender look in his eyes, there was on his lips the faintest suggestion of a triumphant smile? Sorry, Dad, Mr. Edward Sidney will be very busily occupied for the next few minutes ; in the meantime, I am going to give you a lec- ture to pay for all the lectures you ' ve given me since I was knee high to a toad. First, I ' m afraid I ' ll have to disagree with you that every boy, because he can ' t do every- thing in college, is a slacker. That he ' s a slacker just because he loves and plugs at one special thing. College professors forget that. They forget that a fellow may love his chosen profession as much as his own parents, and hates the other unnecessary things, as much as he hates his father ' s worst enemy. Ah, no, I ' m not running down the heads of any college. I love my own too well, but people didn ' t understand that my life was — is — writ- ing. I had to show them — by golly, I think I have — that my extraordinary love for journalism and English literature and neglect of more im- portant subjects has not done me any harm. I can look you in the eye, Dad, and tell you I ' m a success, a clean success. So can the people in Standish. But the one big thing I learned I didn ' t get in college. I wanted something, and I ' ve learned that if you want something long enough and hard enough you can get it ; that keeping everlastingly at it is the thing, and it ' s the fellow who dares stand out against the bunch who wins. You needn ' t look bored. You came here to see Mr. Sidney. A word or two before I introduce him. He ' s a young man, but he has worked hard to show his elders, especially his dear old Dad, that he could get somewhere, that he was worthy of consideration. It ' s been hard, Dad, but you wanted to meet Mr. Sid- ney, didn ' t you? Mr. Edwards, allow me to present to you Mr. Edward Sidney of Standish. But where — I don ' t see anyone but y — Well, I like that, Dad. Dad, pleadingly, I am Mr. Edward Sidney! You, Sid, my boy! You! But how — where? You own the mill, the paper — you wrote that book, that wonderful book, ' What College Didn ' t Do for Me? ' You did it to show me — for me, boy? I see it all now. Mr. Edwards spoke in a dazed way. Hicks ' s disappearance, your help, worth my consideration? I guess you are! Boy, I ' m proud of you! It took a long time to make me see the light. You ' ve got a dunce of an old Dad, but — oh, Sid, I ' m proud of my son! Virginia Donley ' 32 Two gentlemen went up to a restaurant for lunch, when one of them saw a sign which caused him to turn around and go to another place. He asked his friend to come with him and told him that there was no one in the res- taurant. He then told his friend to look at the sign. His friend looked at the sign and read, All Home Cooking. Page Eight

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guess I ' ll say good-bye. You understand, I ' m not angry, but I hate that mill, and I can ' t work in it, even for you. Boy — Sid, wait a minute! You ' ll never succeed. Why not take it? You — you won ' t? Why, you ' re afraid to soil your hands. Here ' s a hundred dollars. It ' s all I ' ll give you, and you may keep your car and money. Remember, this is a good-bye of your own choosing, and let it remain such until you consider yourself worthy of my consideration. Sid left next morning in his car. On reach- ing New York he went to a large garage. What will you give me for my car? It ' s a Lincoln, 1930 model, only driven about fifteen hundred miles ; good condition. I wouldn ' t sell it, only I need the money. Yes, sure it ' s mine. Didn ' t think I stole it, did you? Well, don ' t judge others by yourself, my man. Come on, what will you give me for it? Two thousand cash, if it ' s any good. Yep, two thousand cash. Is it a go or not? They closed the deal, and Sid went back to Standish, but not to The Manors. He had a camp about two miles out, and now it proved useful. He wasn ' t sure what he ' d do, but he deposited his money in the bank. All his worldly cash amounted to five thousand dollars. Yes, it was pretty good. He could live in ease for some time on that, but Sid had passed the point where he looked upon his future as a life of ease. Now he had an intense desire to show his Dad. He bought a paper, some pro- visions, and went back to camp. After a satis- fying meal of bacon and eggs, coffee and baker ' s doughnuts, he pushed back his chair, stuck his feet on the corner of the table, and began to read. He opened The Standish Telegram and said aloud: Huh, scandal in li ' l ole Standish. We ' re stepping out, folks. Headlines an inch and a half high! Well, look at this! Just listen to this! (This to the walls of the cabin appar- ently). Standish Times in Last Stages of Bankruptcy Will Be Forced to Sell June 28, 1931. — The Standish Times filed a plea to-day for bankruptcy, and will be forced to sell out. It may be impossible to find a per- son who will pay the $3,500 wanted for the paper; if so, it will be a clear case of bank- ruptcy, which will come as a great blow to the citizens of Standish, as The Times is, though a small paper, a reliable one. Only $3,500, and I ' ve got $5,000, and— golly! I believe I ' ll do it if I can get it, if it ' s not too late — oh, where ' s my hat? Sid went to the office of the editor who owned the paper, and after some arguments about a young man ' s capability, and so forth, bought the paper. From that time on The Standish Times grew in a strong, quiet way. No one in the outside world, no, none but his most intimate employees, knew of Sid ' s ownership. The articles, inter- views, editorials, and criticisms in the paper were much read and more discussed. Meanwhile the elder Mr. Edwards ' s business was increasing. He was thinking of operating another mill if he could buy it, but before the deal was closed he was called away, and it was necessary to leave his affairs in the hands of his business manager, Mr. Hicks. He gave Mr. Hicks full power to buy the rights of the other mill when they had come to the necessary agree- ment. Mr. Hicks ran the business for a week; then began to work on his own interests. He bor- rowed $50,000 from Mr. Edwards ' s firm. His plan was to buy the rights of the Standish Man- ufacturing Company with the $50,000 bor- rowed from Mr. Edwards, and then sell it back to Mr. Edwards for $80,000, thus making his employer pay $30,000 for the Company rights. Oh, yes, it was a bright idea, one to be ex- pected of a man of Mr. Hicks ' s calibre; but he didn ' t know that there was a man in Standish who had an eye on the Edwards ' s factory, no matter what happened. He knew that The Standish Times could ruin him if it got hold of his scheme, but there are times when, by keeping quiet, it is possible to harm people a thousand times more than by publicly denouncing their guilt and dishonesty. And one of Sid ' s men overheard a conversa- tion when he was looking up some reports on stocks. He told Sid, and within ten hours the Patje Seven

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REFLECTOR S Mrs. iS mart Learns to Skate Don ' t you think skating is dreadfully good exercise? I do and I ' ve been trying it lately. I ' ve got so I really can skate better than some of these young folks, even if I do say so myself. Joshua said I was rather old to go into such childish business, but I don ' t see any reason why an old married woman shouldn ' t enjoy herself if she can. I ' d like to see Joshua Smart stop me from skating. He never was big enough to. Even old Grandma Smith, who has hobbled around on crutches for ten years, tried it. Al- though she fell down, smashed her specs, and barked her nose, she claims she has a good time. Well, as soon as it got cold enough to freeze the millpond, I made up my mind to see what I could do at skating. I went to town and bought myself a pair of skates. Then the dressmaker said I ought to have a skating costume. I took the hint, and started to make one. I took a pair of Joshua ' s red flannels and put two rosettes of green ribbon into the bottom of each leg. Then I took a yellow petticoat and sewed five rows of blue trimming around the bottom of that. For a hat I took one of Joshua ' s cast-off stove-pipe hats, and cut it down. I had a wide piece of red flannel around it, and stuck a rooster ' s tail feather in the front of it. Joshua said I looked like an Indian. (I don ' t know how he could tell, because he never saw one.) Early Tuesday morning I set sail for the mill- pond. When I reached the pond, I found it crowded. It was too late to go back; so I sat down and strapped on my skates. I got on the ice, but my left foot began running around the other one. The first thing I knew my heels were up and my head was down. I thought it was night and all the stars were having a shooting- match. After getting up, I started out again. I found out that my chief difficulty was in stopping my- self. I had the wind at my back and it filled my petticoat so that it floated out like a sail. I was coming to the place where the skaters were pretty thick. The first thing I knew I was mow- ing them down right and left. Hats, gloves, coats, men, women, children, false teeth, and wigs were all mixed up together. Jim Pratt ' s toe caught in the braid of my pet- ticoat. I went down, striking the back of my cranium. I thought it had broken my skull, and seemed to hear the rough edges scrape together. Sam Parker untangled me and escorted me home. I was sore for a week and had to eat off the mantel piece. I ' ve been skating regularly now. I ' ve frozen both my feet, barked up my face, and got the rheumatism, but I ' ve learned to skate. So what do I care! M. Poole ' 35 Resourcefulness is Next to Courage Mrs. Barnaby Briggs sat up in bed, having been rudely awakened by a slight noise from down stairs. She listened intently. Yes, there it was again. She leaned over and shook her husband. Barnaby, Barnaby, there is someone prowl- ing around this house, she whispered fearfully. Huh, wha ' you say? yawned Barnaby, blinking his eyes. There is someone in this house. Oh, my precious antiques! I just know they will get my antiques, wailed Mrs. Briggs. Go down, Barnaby, go right down and order them out. Oh, my nerves! What shall we do? Barnaby, a timid soul, preferred to turn a deaf ear to his wife until she, with brute force as usual, routed him. There was nothing to do but face it after Mrs. Briggs ' s wail of Oh, to think I married a coward ! Quivering and shaking, poor Barnaby crept down the stairs, his knees knocking, his teeth chattering. Nearer and nearer he came to the living-room. He peeped in and his heart sank. His worst fears were realized. There was some- one there, and in that someone ' s hand he caught the gleam of metal. Just then the intruder saw Barnaby. Poor Briggs was paralyzed. Then with a heroic ef- fort he said, Don ' t mind me. I ' m just walking in my sleep, and fled to the upper regions. Resourcefulness is next to courage. Ruth Stoddard ' 32 Paqe Nine