Ashtabula High School - Dart Yearbook (Ashtabula, OH)

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THE DART THE TRANSFORMATION HAROLD JOHNSON. 17 “Yes,” continued Vandall, “as usual, our victory was complete, but this time it was more so. We gradually raised the prices on all the foodstuffs under our control until our profits were well over seventy per cent. People must eat, so they couldn’t resist the higher prices; and, furthermore, it wouldn’t have done them much good to resist, for we are the most powerful trust in the field and we would have forced them to terms in the end. There is some talk of a government investigation, but we have arranged it so that nothing annoying will happen. 1 tell you. I’m proud to control such a powerful body of great men.” Mrs. Vandall thoughtfully surveyed the smiling features of her husband. It was not often that Alton Vandall smiled, and, even in the fairness of her mind, Mrs- Vandall could not admit that her husband’s stern and greed-marked face was improved by the lurking contortion which intensified his harsh features. “Alton,” she said, “I don’t know much about the affairs of finance, and I’m not acquainted with the codes or rules by which you men are governed; but I do know that in gaining a few million dollars you have caused untold suffering among the poor. Perhaps 1 should be proud and rejoice in what you call a victory, but I can not find it in my heart to do so. I don’t want to throw cold water on your triumph, but read this paper and you will see what I mean.” With a muttered curse the husband, now scowling instead of smiling. glanced at New York’s leading daily paper and read as follows: “Poor suffer on account of greed of money kings. Alton Vandall and his trust raise prices on food. Food riots in city. Government investigation impending.” A column and a half was devoted to this topic and Vandall was denounced in such terms that he gurgled and choked with rage as he read. Accompanying the article was a cartoon vividedly showing the misery and wretchedness which existed among those who were not able to buy the food which was now so expensive that it was far beyond their frugal means. Vandall angrily tore the paper into a hundred pieces and cast it into the open fireplace. “Fools!” he cried, “They’re all fools and jealous dogs. If we had let them in on the deal they would now be hailing us as great kings of finance, but just because I, with a few trusty lieutenants, chose to fight and win my own battle, they condemn me and bring in that time-worn joke about abusing the poor. Bosh! They just imagine that the people can’t buy food. They’re too stingy; that’s all. Abusing the downtrodden! Rot! Those newspaper men have to make a living in some way or other, so they work on the sympathy of the people at large and paint a sad picture of something that never happened. Well, I’ve won out and no one has suffered at my hands, so let them rave.” So saying, the angry Vandall hastily left the room and departed for his club on Broadway. 29

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THE DART In a youth of Dick Prescott’s calibre, that was bound to be the outcome. After chapel, the next morning, Dick Prescott was summoned to report to Dr. Madison’s office. It was a bright day, the sun shone brilliantly, while the cool spring breeze glided softly thru the tops of the trees, which shaded the campus, swaying them to and fro in rhythmic motion. But Dick’s pale, gaunt and haggard countenance was by no means in keeping with nature at this particular time. It rather denoted that this worthy individual had enjoyed no repose or slumber that night; in fact, it indicated that he had indulged in profound meditation, much after the fashion of a solitary monk in a lonely glen. Indeed, he had considered many schemes whereby he planned to travel far away where he would be a total stranger, or he would go to Europe and end it all on the German frontier. He would attempt anything, but never would he have the temerity to face the professor. Thanks to the prearranged engagement to see Dr. Madison the next morning, none of these plans had been carried into effect. As Dick entered the doctor’s office, the latter stood up, and, with a bow, asked him to be seated. “To get right down to the point, Mr. Prescott, have you made any plans as to the work you will take up on leaving school ?” Dick was bewildered, to say the least- This was not the subject he was prepared to discuss with the Doctor. (Why as he remembered it, he was to tell in detail of the mysterious plans he had found in Professor Shoultz’ desk.) Hadn’t the doctor remarked that he would have the professor watched untill enough evidence had been obtained to convict him? “Why don’t you speak, my boy, you’re not ill are you?” asked the doctor. Dick, however, was not disposed to tell of his latest plans. “No, sir, I have no definite idea at present.” “Mr. Shoultz informs me you are taking up consular service. Are you interested in that work?” Dick started at the name but managed to say, “Yes, sir. I am very much interested in it.” The doctor now arose, opened a letter file and pulling out a letter bearing the stamp of the American consul at Buenos Ayres, he handed it to Dick. “Would such a position appeal to you. Mr. Prescott?” “Why, why I don’t understand,” he stammered. “I’ll make it plain.” said the doctor, smiling. “You’ve noticed the reference made to patriotism in the letter?” Dick nodded. “Well, I’m glad to say you’ve passed the true patriotism test, my boy. As to the other qualifications, I do not believe you are wanting. The professor is no more a German spy than I am-It was a bogus test.” Had a bomb exploded at Dick’s feet, he would not have been more shocked. “I’ll admit it was rather severe,” continued the Doctor, “but I knew you would not fail.” A merry group was seated in the Shoultz’ parlor that evening. Dick Prescott was the object of the merriment, but he also seemed to enjoy the fun immensely. He had accepted the position and had planned to leave shortly for his new post. “And to think,” said Phyllis, “that you, dad. would agree to such a plan?” “I simply had to,” was the rejoinder. “The Doctor insisted and would not have it any other way.” 28

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THE DART As her husband left her. Mrs. Van-dall hastened to her room and there burst into tears, for. in spite of Van-dall’s greed, and meanness and violent temper. Mrs. Vandall still loved him, and prayed for his redemption. Vandall remained at his club until late into the night, during which time he proceeded to drown his rage in wine, and he succeeded to such an extent that two club members escorted him home. Silently entering the house so as not to encounter Mrs. Vandall or any of the servants, these two Good Samaritans seated Vandall in a huge chair before the open fireplace, and turning off the electric lights, quickly withdrew, leaving the financier in a stupefied state in the fire-shadowed room. An hour passed by and as yet no one had disturbed the money king. Vainly he struggled to review the events of the day in his dazed mind, but clear thoughts would not come. Failing in his attempts to think clearly, he gave it up, and soon he was in the meshes of a troubled sleep. Suddenly Vandall gave a start and opened his eyes. There was danger in the room, something within seemed to warn him of that. He tried to laugh and shake off the feeling of dread which was rapidly overpowering him. but it was useless. Something terrible from which there was no escape was about to happen, of that the money king was certain. As if sensing the source of danger, Vandall gazed into the fireplace at the flickering flames which cast awesome shadows about the room. In horror he saw the little fiery tongues dart forth and in glaring letters form the three significant words. “You are doomed.” At the same time, from a distant corner of the room, the soft ticking of a huge clock came thru the breathless stillness, and. as if reading the message of the flames, it whispered, “You are doomed.” Vandall could not move; his eyes glared and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. As if held under a spell he continued to watch the dancing flames, and as the ominous words vanished, he again saw a transformation taking place, and before him nov arose a scene of pitiful desolation and wretchedness. Hundreds of starving men. women, and children passed before the financier. Ragged, pale and hollow-cheeked they were—tottering, trembling old men and women, weakly crying infants, sobbing mothers, and husbands, with their last feeble breath cursing the greedy men who were responsible for their misery. With pathetically appealing eyes the masses gazed at Vandall, then one by one the wretched beings fell to earth and with a great heart-rending sob they vanished from sight. Little streams of perspiration flowed down Vandall’s horrified countenance; he struggled to arise, but some unknown force held him powerless; his heart throbbed madly in his breast and his throat was dry and parched, yet he continued to gaze in fascination at the fireplace. Now into view came an old woman whose ghastly and withered countenance struck terror to the unfortunate spectator’s heart. Merciful heavens! could she be human? was not this apparition a scowling death head sent to torment and terrify him? But no—she looked strangely familiar; Vandall had seen her before, but where? Ah, yes; she was the prominent figure in the accursed cartoon which he had denounced a few hours before. So the 30