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

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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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WTiat College Didn ' t Do The house was overflowing with gladness; old Anne was making pies, bread, cakes, doughnuts, jelly tarts, and a hundred other delicious things; Jim was happy, and sho wed it as plainly as a po- lice dog can, when he is happy. Tim, the gar- dener, was sprucing up the already immacu- late grounds, and inside and outside the house, all was hustle and bustle. The cars were washed, the saddle horses rubbed till their coats were glossier than ever. And why? The young master was coming home. It was the last of June, and Sidford Edwards, Jr., was coming home from college to spend the summer. Last year he had stopped off on his way to Larry Borne ' s camp in New York, but this year he was coming home, and everyone was happy. The house was filled with gladness. Sid Edwards was coming home! There was but one person who seemed sorry and depressed. He was in the large, book-lined library at his thinking, reading over and over again a letter, and then pausing to think some more. It was Sid ' s father, and it was because he loved his son that Mr. Edwards dreaded to see his son return. It pained him, for he knew that the long-dreaded understanding between Sid and himself must come soon after the arrival of his boy. He was thinking of Sid as a young boy of fif- teen. Then again of him as he had been at prep school, at eighteen, and now a junior in college at twenty-one. He came back from the land of thoughts, and looked again at the letter which was the cause of his sadness. It was from his son ' s college — a short, straight-to-the-point let- ter: Mr. Sidford Edwards, Sr., The Manors, Standish, Connecticut. Dear Sir: The College begs to inform you that your son, Sidford, has failed in two major subjects this year, and if he returns, must repeat the course. We are sorry to inform you that this failure in Greek and mathematics is owing to his ex- traordinary love for journalism and English lit- erature; he has neglected his important subjects for a more than necessary study of these. Will you please advise us as to the arrange- ments you wish us to make about this matter? Yours very truly, J. H. Thorne, Dean of College. So, as in his prep school days, yes, even his childhood, Sid ' s love for journalism had caused his failure in more important subjects. He would have it out with Sid once and for all. Just because his father owned half of Standish and was a success was no reason that the boy could stay in college forever and just play at newspaper work. Bah ! Who had ever heard of an Edwards working for the narrow-minded editor of some small town newspaper? Yes, he would have it out with the boy, and soon at that. It was that night after dinner, after Sid had greeted the family and done more than polite justice to Anne ' s cooking, that his father asked him to come to the library. When Sid entered the library, he noticed that his father was gloomy. Hello, Dad, what ' s the matter? Been overworking lately, or am I your black sheep? For answer, Mr. Edwards produced the let- ter from the college. Immediately the expres- sion on Sid ' s face changed, but he did not read the letter, nor did he speak for some time. Then : I ' m sorry, Dad, but Greek and math just don ' t come, and — well, I ' d rather write than eat, and I can ' t help it. Well, young man, you ' ve had your chance at Greek and math. You ' re going to work in my mill, at the bottom of the ladder, and all chance for success and advancement depends wholly upon you. Never, Dad, answered Sid quietly. I ' d rather collect ashes. I will before I ' ll work in that dirty mill. I can ' t. I ' m going out on my own. I haven ' t been a spendthrift, and three- quarters of the more than sufficient allowance you ' ve given me I ' ve banked, and I ' ve my car, and money Mother left me, and — well, Dad, I Page Six

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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