Annie Wright School - Shield Yearbook (Tacoma, WA)

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THE H Y A K 11 could he heard thrnughtout the depot. When the trunk and his fine educated daughter were loaded into the wagon, which was soon bumping over the rocky country road toward home. I’a dear. she said, after surveying the crude team, “do you consider this quite excessively beyond?” Mey, said the old man with a puzzled expression “quite exces- sively beyond what? Beyond Medville? I consider it about two miles beyond Medville coming this way.” She explained to him that she did not mean that, but that she meant the horse and wagon. Do you consider them soulful? Do you think they could be studied in the light of a symphony or a poem. and appear as intensely utter on returning home ;t8 one coukl express V The old man grew uneasy at the complicated way his daughter expressed herself. Just then they hit a stump and received a jolt which threw them both from the seat. Oh! there is my lovely and consummate ma!” screamed Grace as they reached the little farmhouse, and was presently embraced by her old mother. “Well.” said the old farmer as he nipped a piece of butter off the plate with his own knife at the supper table, “(trace, how de ye like ver schuleT” Well, pa. now you arc shout— I mean it is far beyond — It is unquenchably ineffable. The girls are stunning— intense— and. oh. the parties and receptions! I he past has ben a week of sublime harmonv. 1 spose, said her father, “but how about deportment, reading and spelling?” “Oh father, it is French art and music that has made mv life one of bliss.” Her father and mother looked hopelessly at one another across the table. After a pause, the mother replied, “How are the biscuits, child?” “Great, mother; too utter for words; ' cause your dear hands made them, and the plum pudding is simply a poem of itself.” Grace retired early that night, and the old folks sat by the fire until late talking it all over. The next morning at breakfast the old man. unnerved by her affected manner, spoke up harshly and said:

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10 THE H Y A K The clerk seemed about to say something but catching sight of the boy’s happy face, changed his mind, and with a smile opened the door for him. “That rose,” he said to himself, “cost a good deal more than ten cents, but I do not begrudge it; no, not at all. With his beautiful treasure in his hand, Joe hurried up the long bight of stairs of the Fisher block, and knocked with heating heart at Miss Terry’s door. Almost instantly the door was opened and the sweetest of voices said, “good evening.” With a heart too full for speech, he handed her his gift. Joe felt fully repaid by her delighted, “Oh, Joe, my dear, dear boy, how can you think of such sweet and beautiful things to do, and how can I thank you enough!” “You have. Miss Terry,” he replied; “indeed you have. I wanted to give you this,” he went on. “because you sang the rose song this afternoon. Please will you sing it. for me again— just for me alone, by myself?” “Surely I will,” she said, “right now.” and she bent down and kissed him. Tired but happy, little Joe crep into bed that night. Contentedly he murmured as he fell asleep, “Dear Lord. I think Thee.” Flora Schively. THE MODERN COLLEGE GIRL. It was tonight that Grace Vienne was expected to arrive home for her birthday vacation. She had been away for several months attending a young ladies ' Seminary, and had adopted many little college phrases from her classmates. Her father, who was a grocervman in a little country town, was at the depot with the old horse and the delivev wagon to meet her. When the cars stopped in the depot a bewitching array of skirts and a wide-brimmed hat stepped daintily from the coach and bung itself into the elderly man’s arms. “Why, you superlative dad!” she exclaimed. “1 am more than captivated with your dear presence.” The old gentleman was somewhat surprised at this greeting, but when he recognized the sealskin coat he had paid for with his gray mare he planted a kiss where it would do the most good with a report that

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12 THE H Y A K “Grace, your mother and I have decided not to send you to boarding- school any longer, for we have not lived sixty odd consummate years for the sake of raising a curiosity. Now after you have finished eating that poem of fried sausage, and that symplumy of a twisted doughnut, you take and dust up the room and take off that fancy gown and put on a calico and help your mother wash dishes, and let ' s have no more rythmic foolishness. She obeyed.