Astoria High School - Zephyrus Yearbook (Astoria, OR)

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6 THE ZEPHYRUS Such a Mistake. By Wilma Young, ’09. Dony reached up every minute or two to feel it and squeeze the toe gent¬ ly. He was waiting for it to get light enough to take it down — and then— a subdued whistle from the little huddle of pink and white outing nightgown and boy. Slowly the room grew a little less dark — a little light; then light enough. Donny, on his bare tiptoes, took down the stocking. “O-o-oo!” It was pret¬ ty full but not so bulg y quite, as he had expected. It looked a little queer. There was a whole row of stockings — papa’s and mamma’s and Ben’s and even grandma’s white knited one. Pap had borrowed one of Don’s, because his own was too short to get his share into it, he said. Donny qut his hand in and pulled out — why, kind of funny things. They were veiy nice, but kind of different. He tried to whistle again, and not be disappointed. What had made him expect he was going to have certain, sure, an airgun, and a four- bladed jackknife, and colored crayons, and the tiny silver cornet? He miss¬ ed the cornet the most. He’d already asked Spence Copeland to teach him how to play on it. He went on pulling the queer things out of the stocking — the paper-weight, the silk handkerchief, the gold cuft- buttons, the dainty little gold and white book, with “Longfellow” on the cover, and last of all the gloves. They were kid, lined with soft fleece, and had fur around the wrists, lots of it. Donny tried them on. “Oh! Oh!” He knew all about it, then. The gloves told him. He hurried over to “Papa’s” stocking, and inspected it closely. It was all knobby and beautiful, and peeping out of the top was someting silver and shiney, like a litle cornet. The knob in the toe felt like a jack knife and the long stiff thing in the leg might — just might, you know — be part of an air-gun! But that was Papa’s stocking, if Donny did wear it “week days.” Don¬ ny didn’t consider Xmas, a week day. It was the stocking “Pap” hung up himself, and so it belonged to “Pap.” Santa Claus had made a terrible mis¬ take, but there was no help for it now. Donny went back to his stocking and packed the queer presents neatly back into it. He felt cold, but just then “Pap” came in. “Wish you a Merry Xmas, Donny!” he cried gaily. “W-wish you a Merry Xmas,” Don¬ ny piped bravely. “Now we’ll see what Santa has been stuffing into my — why!” Then “Pap” whistled and looked across at Donny. “Here’s a cornet and a gun and a top, and a jack-knife! What did you get Donny?” For fully two minutes papa played with his presents, then he made a wry face and said: “Say. how will you swap, Don?” Denny’s foce gleamed and even the little pink and white nightgown trem¬ bled with joy. “Oh, truly?” he stammehed eagerly. “I — I’ll swap even.” It’s a trade!” cried “Pap,” and so, after all, Santa Claus’ mistake came out right. Denny played a triumphant tune on his cornet, while he and “Pap” danced to it together.

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THE ZEPHYRUS 5 “Then all I c n say is that Vriginia Hilliard ought to be locked up where she can’t throw her money away on such worthless nig - !”but the sad face and trembling lips of little Eliza recalled Mrs. Whitmore, and patting Eliza kindly on her drooping head, she gave her the note to carry to Virginia. When Eliza had left the room, Mrs. Whitmore turned back to her gifts, but the glaring pile of ribbons re¬ minded her of her insult. “There, I told you so,” she said, nodding her head vigorously at a wreath on the window.” The idea of giving a lot of niggers pink pearl necklaces at a charity tree! Eliza will be getting so grand she will have to dress suitably for pink pearl neck¬ laces! We shall be simply be over¬ run by these people if we begin by treating the children like that! I let Eliza go the Mission to learn some¬ thing, not to be given baubles that turn the child’s head. This ends it! Eliza has been to the Mission for the last time! When she - ” She stopped abruptly. Thee door was thrown open, and Virginia, her hat in one hand and her hair flying, burst into the room. Eliza was close be¬ hind, a broad grin upon her usually solemn features. “Oh, Aunt Susan,” she gasped, JUST A LITTLE LA TIN. Boyibus kissibus Sweet girlium. Girlibus likibus, Wantie somorum. Popibus hearibus Kissi somorum — Kickibus boyibus Out of the dorum. Darkibus nightibus, No lightiorum; Climibus gateibus — Breechibus torum. dropping into the nearest chair, and laughing till the tears came. “I’ve done the funiest thing!” “Did you get my note?” coldly asked Mrs. Whitmore. “Oh, dear, yes, and that was the first thing I knew about it, until Eliza began to thank me for the pearl neck lace, poor child, she didn’t seem very happy over it, either, until I told her that the ribbons were really hers and the necklace yours.” “What is the child talking about?” gasped Mrs. Whitmore. “Why, don’t you see, Aunt Susan, I was in such a hury that I got your present and Eliza’s mixed up. The necklace is yours ! ” “Oh!” said Mrs. Whitmore, the light beginning to dawn on her, and then the funny side of the situation pre¬ sented itself, and she joined Virginia and Eliza in a hearty laugh. When Virginia could control herself, she gathered up the ribbons and thrust them into Eliza’s hands. “Here, take them,” she cried, “I can’t stand them any longer.” “Oh, Mis’ Virginia,” cried the now radiant Eliza, “I think these are jes’ be-au-ti-ful.” “And I think this necklace is “jes’ be-au-ti-ful,” cried Mrs. Whitmore. “I'll cast my bread upon the wat¬ ers,” said the young wife. “Have you no feeling for the poor fish?” chuckled the brutal husband. Inquirer (to farmer’s son) — “Where can 1 find your father, son?” “He is in the pig pen. You will know him, because he has a hat on.” —Ex. A Query. ..He asked a miss what was a kiss, gramatically defined. “It’s a conjunction, sir” she said, “and hence can’t be declined.”

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THE ZEPHYRUS 7 A Little Heroine. It was indeed lucky that Aunt Mary returned from her visit when she did; for her neice was very sick and the house going to ruin under the care of the girl she had left in charge. Aunt Mary always looked on the bright side of things, but she was wor¬ ried now for there was but a dollar in the house, and when she told little Gladys to go to the grocer’s and ask for credit, there was a strange quaver in her voice that made the little girl wonder. But the grocer was very kind and filled thee basket, putting in many things that Aunt Mary had not ordered. “I think I had better send it to your home as it is too heavy for you,” he said kindly, “and tell your Aunt that she can have all the grocer¬ ies she wishes.” After thanking him for his kind¬ ness, Gladys started home, but she had gone only a little distance when she suddenly stopped. There on the sidewalk lay a quarter. Slowly stoop¬ ing, she picked it up and wondered if it was right for her to keep it. “I can never find the person who lost it,” she thought at last, “so I guess it is mine.” Just then she was passing a toy shop. The window was full of toys and in the center was a little doll. Oh what a beautiful doll! I wonder if it costs more than a quar¬ ter,” were thoughts that were pass¬ ing through her mind. In that brief instant she had forgoten her mother and how she had wished to help her. She gazed at the quarter and then at the doll and at last walked into the store. When the clerk asked her what she wanted she was rather frightened, but at last asked how much the doll was. “Thirty cents,” was the answer. “Oh! And I have only twenty- five,” and tears came into her eyes. “Well, don’t cry little girl. I’ll let you have it for twenty five.” Soon little Gladys was trudging homeward with her treasure. As she neared the little cottage which was her home, she suddenly remembered her sick mother. “And I could have bought some¬ thing for Mamma with my quarter,” she thought. “I wonder if the man would take it back?” She looked down at the doll and said: “Yes, dol¬ ly, I would like to keep you, but Mam¬ ma is sick and we are very poor.” The doll only smilied as before; and chok¬ ing down a sob Gladys started once more for the store. There was a gentleman talking to the man behind the counter, but they stopped talking as Gladys entered and again sne was asked what she wanted. Her voice was very low as she re¬ plied. “Please Mister will you take this doll back? I forgot about Mam¬ ma being sick and poor when I found the quarter, so I bought it.” ‘“Take it back?” asked the man. “Well, if it is not dirty I think I might, and he took the doll and gave Gladys her puarter. She started to go, but was called back by the gentleman who had been watching her all the time. “Wait a minute little girl, and I’ll buy the doll for you,” he said kindly. “There are very few little girls who would make the sacrifice. What is your name?” “Gladys Woods,” was the reply. The man was very white as he drew her to his knee and said: “Tell me about your father.” Gladys was puzzled by his strange looks, but began the story that her mother had so often told her. “When I was about a year old my