Ashtabula High School - Dart Yearbook (Ashtabula, OH)

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S E N I O R N U M B E R 21 The Color of the Anne was surprised l find herself going in, for she had had no such intentions a moment before. She was ushered up the steps and through the door into a living room, whieh surprised her with its cheery tire. After Mrs. Foster had divested the newcomers of their wraps, she led the way to the kitchen. It seemed to Anne that she had never seen so many children together before, and such a racket ensued that she would fain have placed her hands over her ears. A tally-pull was the occasion and everyone seemed to he enjoying it greatly. Soon she found herself possessed of a large sticky lump of taffy, and she was instructed to “pull it by Hilly. She pulled and pulled and was surprised to find herself proud of the luscious white pieces which she finally carried to the living room. There she and Mrs. Foster sal before the fire while the children romped and Mrs. Foster talked. Anne heard the names and histories of the live Foster children and all of their accomplishments. She heard, too, of how the croup had threatened Alice no longer than a week ago. Finally the conversation turned to the neighbors and Anne heard of Mrs. Andrew’s chickens and the marvelous number of eggs they bad laid. They ended with a discussion of whether the minister’s rheumatism would become better here or if he ought to go to a different climate. Anne went home puzzled. She did not know whether she was amused or touched, whether she was bored or interested, but she did know that she had not missed the butler, that she had been invited to return whenever she should wish, and that Billy had run to bring in The “Times as soon as it had been thrown on the porch. She decided to take the earliest train the next morning for New York. At the station the station master greeted her with a cheery “Good morning. Miss Havelock. You’re getting an early start today. Going far?” .lust to New York,” Anne answered. “Well, I sorla guess you’re going to have a pretty nice day to do your traveling. For the first time Anne noticed that the sun was peeping up over the hill and that the air had a spicy, spring fragrance in it. Several other people who were standing on the platform spoke to her, and, impatient to reach her destination, she climbed into the train. She went direetlx to her old office, where she was greeted with great joy, and asked if she hadn’t had enough of the “simple life” and wasn't ready to return to “Little Old New York. She laughingly refused to tell and was offered her old position with a slight increase in salary. It was just what she wanted and she was delighted, but it was not policy to show it, so she promised to think it over and write her answer in a day or two. Vest, Continued “Good-bye, Cabot,” she sang to herself as she walked briskly up the street. She had an appointment to lunch with a friend at her favorite tearoom at noon, and she determined to spend the two intervening hours buying herself a number of pretty gowns. She went gaily to the store where she was accustomed to buy and prepared to revel in fine clothes. She was disappointed, however, for somehow she did not find a great amount of pleasure in making her purchases. It seemed rather shallow to her as she looked from one beautiful gown to another. They were none of them to be compared in beauty with Alice Foster's golden curls and blue eyes. She finally purchased hut one simple dress and was rather shocked as she thought about it later, to remember that it was of that hated color—gray. She looked at the people about her. They were all hurrying, hurrying, each one pushing himself forward with no thought of his neighbor. They were stylish, but they were not interesting. They all rushed forward and were gone out of your life in a moment. There was no one whom you would recognize again; no one who would speak a friendlx word to you; no friends. Anne had a wild thought when she wished she could see only their backs. When you saw their faces you were disappointed. Their clothes were all different, but the expression on their faces all alike. Hach person was merely a part of the crowd. She met her friend at the appointed place and was greeted effusively, hut try as she might all her words seemed hollow. What did she, Anne, count for among so many? Now in Cabot she was a personality- hut she shook herself impatiently. Anne ale her deliciously cooked food almost silently, answering a few words to her friend’s long tales of the dinners and dances and plays which she had attended, and. at last, of the latest scandals in society. Finally. Anne, wondering what connection there was between Mrs. So-andSo's latest divorce and Alice Foster’s croup that the one should suggest the other, asked about her companion’s little daughter. “How is Adela? You haven’t told me about her yet. Does she still remember Aunt Anne?” “Oh, I suppose so, I really haven’t much time io give to her, and then Marie is such a splendid nurse that I need not worry. As I was saying, everybody thought that she really didn’t care anything about him any way. so when he----” Anne gasped. Had she reallly ever thought Adela well cared for, when her mother would rather talk of some town scandal than of her adorable liltl daughter? She remembered Mrs. Foster holding the tired Alice in her lap and laughing as Anne spoke of the work she would have in cleaning up after the party.

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T h e 20 SENIOR N U M B E R Color of t h e First Prize Story Vest MARJORIE MITCHELL. NNIv HAVELOCK pushed back Hie ledger in which she had been straightening up I he month’s accounts of The Cabot Daily Times.” After I’ve paid Al and the printers, there will be scarcely a decent salary left for me. What’s the use of all my work here? I came down because I thought the town needed a daily newspaper and now I And that they will hardly support it, much less lake any interest in it. How can you publish a paper in a town where every body knows all the news before if happens and no one is interested in anythin more distant than the next railway station? If I made a million a year it wouldn’t repay me for my exile in this town, which never has a dozen people on its main street unless there is a circus or a Are. 1 never saw such a crowd of ill.dresscd, uncultured people in my life. There isn't a woman in the place except me, who has a dress less than three years old. Picking up the ledger, she pushed it into a drawer, pushed the drawer shut and pushed down the top of her desk; then looked angrily about because there was nothing more to push. She sat for a long lime gazing moodily out upon the barren gray landscape where the gray hill mounted up, dotted with little gray houses until its top was fringed with a string of dreary gray fir trees. The houses were, to aP intents, exactly alike except that some still showed, on closer examination, the traces of what was once a coat of paint. Everything was of dull color, from The “Times” office to the fir trees and, Anne thought to herself, the people were of the same drab color. Yet this was the town, the place, she was trying to help with her paper, trying to instill with a little of the twentieth century endenw . Surely it was a hopeless attempt! After a while she rose and, slipping on her loose coat and pulling her soft hat down over her hair, locked the office door behind her and started along the narrow walk which accompanied the muddy road up the hill. She climbed up and up, leaving the houses far behind until she reached the group of firs. Here she seated herself upon a convenient rock and gazed down upon the valley. Soon the dismal view melted before her eyes, and she dreamed of New York, the New York which she had left so courgeously but a few months before. She saw its well dressed, hurrying throng. She saw its brightly lighted theaters and cafes, and everywhere women in light beautiful clothes, for Anne loved beauty in anything, but especially in fine raiment. I’ll go back!” she cried. I can surely line! a position. Why should I bury myself here with these uncultured people when I can have all that which I love so well? I’ll go up tomorrow and see what I can do. With this cheerful thought she sprang quickly up and started briskly down the bill, already mentally bidding farewell to her dismal surroundings. She had nearly reached the level when two small children came running up behind her, and as they passed her, the smaller, a little child of perhaps four years, stumbled and fell. She sat there upon the walk with her lips quivering and large tears rolling out of her blue eyes, but she did not utter a cry. Anne looked at her quickly to see if she were very dirty, and then rebuking herself severely for her hesitation, stooped and picked her up. She was not dirty at all, Anne found, greatly to her surprise, but very neatly, if plainly dressed, and she cuddled up so quickly, placing her chubby arms around Anne’s neck Hint Anne was cpiite won over. The little boy had been trying to comfort the little girl, and now he smiled and slipped his hand into Anne’s. Don’t cry, dear, Anne said to the baby. It will be all right in a moment.” Then she turned to the boy, “what is your name, sonny?” “Billy Foster, an’ she’s my sister Alice, an’ we live right up here a ways. We was just goin’ home so as not to be late for the party. It’s Molly’s birthday party. Wouldnt’ you like to come?” He looked up eagerly into his new friend's face. Visions of a birthday party which one of her friends had given her little daughter rose up before Anne’s eyes. She saw a large table surrounded by beautifully dressed and combed children and decorated in the middle by a huge basket of roses and lilies. She saw the exquisite favors filled with the most expensive candy and the staid butler serving the guests, who talked quietly, very much as their mothers and fathers did. It had been a lovely party, but this one—! Anne smiled at the boy. I’m afraid I couldn't come today, but I will walk along with you to your house.” The boy stopped before one of the dullest looking houses, and Anne was about to put the baby down and say good-bye when the door opened and a woman, large of form, cheery of face, but gingham of dress came forward to greet her. Why, Miss Havelock, where did you meet my wandering children? Oh, of course you don’t know me, but I have read your paper so often and enjoyed your articles so much that I feel I know you. I am Mrs. Foster. Won’t you please come in? I would so like to have you and the children would be simply delighted.”

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SENIOR N U M B E R The Color of the Anne had thought to remain in town another day, Init she suddenly decided to lake the afternoon train for Cabot in order to superintend the last Saturday issue of The ‘Times under her editorship. Perhaps Al. who was her advertising man, would continue the paper, hut if he didn't she would simply close it up and sell at the first chance. She looked around al the people in the train, hut she did not like them. They tired her. She was uncertain of what she did want until it suddenly flashed upon her. She wanted to sit before a blazing lire with Alice on her lap and listen to Mrs. Foster tell of Mrs. Andrew’s chickens. The next morning she sal at her desk by the window with her pen poised over a letter to the editor in New York. She had written: “After duly considering your proposition I have decided that- ” She knew then she had not decided that she would accept and she looked out of the window, up the hill where she discovered that the bright sun was turning the grass green and that the gray firs stood lip against a bright blue sky dotted with fleecy white V e s t , Continued clouds. A robin was building a nest in a tree nearby and painters, half way up the hill, were applying a coat of snowy white paint to the grayest house of all. Utile Alice Foster came running down the street with a bunch of yellow dandelions in her hand. A smile came over Anne’s face and she finished her sentence. “I have decided that I must refuse your oiler. There is work and opportunity here that I must not neglect and friends that I will not.” A sentence she had read in her magazine on the train the evening before came to her mind. “It’s not the color of the vest that matters, hut the color of the heart underneath. “Here their vests are gray, but their hearts are bright, while in New York it is just the other way. I am going to look al hearts after this. Oh. Al. if you are going to the poslolTice will you mail this letter for me? Oh. yes! and I’ve something to tell you. Ve are going to run a fashion page in The “Times.” 1 think the women here in Cabot will enjoy it. L o s r Second Prize Story SHIRLEY PECK— 15 (il’KSS 1 won’t go with Barbara any more. said Dick complacently, “she’s a pretty girl and I like her, hut she is a punk dancer, she doesn’t make good candy, and she laughs too much. Anyway, a high school junior shouldn't expect attention from a college man. When I gel down to school I’ll pick out the best looking, most popular girl there, and I’ll go with her. His mother smiled and said nothing. She was very proud of her handsome, athletic young son, and his self-assurance only amused her. His sister, Katherine, however, viewed the matter with less calmness. Is that so. she retorted, “I wonder if it ever occurred to you that maybe it won’t be a case of your dropping Barbara, hut it may be just the other way. Ellen Browning told me yesterday that Barbara wasn’t going around with you from this lime on. Barbara said that she just hated that green necktie you insisted upon wearing, your mouth was too big and you were positively the most conceited fellow she ever knew. So there, smartie. Another thing, Dick, did you ever pause to think that when you have discovered the most popular girl in the college perhaps there will be others beside you who will desire her company. There might even be one whom she would prefer to you.” “I bet she’d take me if she got a chance, asserted Dick in a tone that he strove to make confident. As for that tale about Barbara, I suppose you manufactured it for the occasion—not that I would care if it was true. I should worry either way. I— He was interrupted by the entrance of his older brother, a tall lad with mischievous blue eyes, a large humorous mouth, a stubby nose and a fair skill. Ned Roberts had the power of making friends despite his tendency for practical jokes. Just now he was in an especially happy mood, which indicated that lie had some plan on foot. As he slammed the door he shouted: “Dick, you’d better go finish packing your trunk. We’ll have to catch the three o’clock train.” Bless you, Ned, said Mrs. Roberts with an amused smile, Dick has had that trunk packed for at least two weeks. The expressman will come after your baggage in a few minutes. You’d better gel your things on. for it is time you were going. As the boys were scrambling into the wraps, she continued: “Now, Dick, if you get sick send for me at once, and don’t forget to write me once a week and tell me the news. Look after your brother. Ned. and don't play any more jokes on him than you can help.”