Ashtabula High School - Dart Yearbook (Ashtabula, OH)

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£ THE DART that deal. He hasn’t enough spunk to beat me. I can bellow as loud as he can. Strange as it may seem he doesn’t like to swallow his own dust, for a change. Says he’s always been considered first and no upstart of a boy is going to get ahead of him. I guess I don’t look as old as I am, perhaps. Anyway, I am old enough to fight, and if he’s going to drive me out, he’ll have his hands full right away. Old Tom said when he left there, “Keep up as you’ve begun, boy, and you’ll make your mark all right. Your stacking up against a big job, but you are man enough to fill it. I tell you he doesn’t say that to everybody.” When Ernest left, it was after eleven o’clock. Mr. Vale open- ed the door for him, and returning found his wife sitting on the floor in front of the bookcases with the dictionary open in her lap. She was hastily scanning the page and did not look up as he en- tered. “What on earth are you doing with that at this time of night?” he yawned. “Looking up peacocks,” briefly. “Peacock?” “Yes, to see if there isn’t a kind that is proud of its strut and not its feathers. Oh, I take it back about your big feet. They must be altogether invisible. The slightly amused, tho somewhat bored expression disap- peared from Mr. Vale’s face, leaving it perfectly blank. Slowly his mouth dropped open, and he stared at his wife dumbly. Fi- nally he recovered himself and walked to the window. “It is snowing,” he declared shortly. “Oh! is it? cried Mrs. Vale, jumping up and coming to his side to stare at a few small flakes of snow which were falling softly thru the darkness, I’m so glad for I can wear my new furs to church to-morrow.” c j “Why did you break your engagement with Miss R., the school mistress?” “Couldn’t stand it any longer old man. The other evening, when I arrived fifteen .minutes late, she told me I must bring an excuse in writing, signed by my mother.” c i “My mission,” said the kind parson to the vivacious girl, “ is to save young men.” “Good,” she answered, “ save one for me.” 10

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THE DART he looked as one would expect the king of England to lcok after he had been attacked by suffragettes,—more or less disabled but still like a great and widely known man. Brimming over with satisfaction, he did not wait to be asked about the game, but began voluntarily. Mrs. Vale cast an appre- hensive glance at her best mahogany chair, as Ernest having en- sconced himself in a large leather affair, preparatory to spending the evening in comfort, put his feet upon it. Why must a man in order to be thoroly comfortable, have his feet upon some choice article of furniture? This was his refrain: “Say! talk about all the fight-for-your-life scraps that I was ever in! Why any ordinary game of football would have about as much life in it as a Sunday School class singing a Christmas song, compared with that game this afternoon. Say, Hap, you know Big Bill Steen? Well, I played against him. Talk about your Gibraltars! Why, he was a perfect mountain to move. He didn’t stop me, tho’ you bet! I’m not so slow myself when I get started. I had the ball and was speeding for a touch-down when that Stonewall Jackson stepped in front of me. I thought here’s where I get no cheers from the grandstand, more likely a nurse from the hospital, but bucked up, for I thot I might as well get a few digs in on the other fellow while he was killing me. Well, I went thru him so fast that he dosen’t know yet what hit him. Won the game on it. The crowd went mad. Oh, I should worry about Big Bill or anyone else when I’m in form.” So he raved, telling of others’ playing but always as compar- ed with his. After awhile Mrs. Vale directed his thoughts into another channel by asking: “Have you and Dolly made up your little spat yet?” “You bet: that was over long ago. When she heard about my being on the team and doing such good work, she came a- round all right. Knew she would, so I just let her take her time to it. Catch a girl throwing me over for that simpleton with the eyeglasses, who has a name that sounds like a new kind of choco- lates.” A son of Adam to be sure, blaming it on Eve. Later in the evening when Mr. Vale obtained the floor, the talk turned to that all absorbing topic, “Business.” “Oh yes,” he said, “Knew I would get in ahead of Hapwel in 9

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PERIWINKLE JOE JANE DICKINSON, ’16 Periwinkle, periwinkle, Periwinkle, wink; Here’s a wave, and there’s a wave, Now, periwinkle, drink. Hear the little fishes, Listen while they say Oh peri, peri, winkle, winkle. Won’t you come and play?” HE high quavering voice rose above the roar of the great gray waves, as they beat upon the stone covered beach. A bent old man, whose face was nearly cover- ed by a long white beard, plodded thru the sand. Now and then he stooped to pick up a tiny white shell, so pure and fragile in form that it seemed to be made by the hand of an angel. As his voice rose above the noise of the wind and waves, it reached the ears of a jolly crowd of young people, whose gay chat- ter immediately ceased. “Oh,” exclaimed Bob Harris carelessly, “that’s old “Periwinkle Joe,” a funny old duffer, who goes up and down the beach picking up periwinkles. He makes bags and box- es and knickknacks of them, that he sells to the campers. He will be over to see you girls as soon as he knows you are here. The only way to get rid of him is to give him a good squelching.” “Trust me for that,” exclaimed Ruth Dearborn. “What a fun- ny song he sings! But isn’t the tune catchy? I’m going to try it on my guitar, when we go back to the cottage.” The Jolly Crowd had arrived that day to spend a week at Camp Happy” on Lake Erie shore. II Periwinkle, periwinkle, Periwinkle, wink; Here’s the bread, and there’s the ham, Now pretty camper, where’s the jam? Ruth’s song was greeted by a roar of laughter, as the Jolly Crowd gathered around the table for supper. “Has old Joe been around bothering you yet?” asked one of the boys. “Oh no, and I do hope he doesn’t come; I’d hate to turn him away, but I’m sure I don’t want any of his old periwinkles,” said soft hearted Mary Dennison. “Why, I think we could have some fun, making sport of the 11