Astoria High School - Zephyrus Yearbook (Astoria, OR)

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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

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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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8 THE ZEPHYRUS Grandfather, who was dying, sent for my father to come over to England to him. Mamma was very delicate, so he went alone. Soon afterwards Grandpa died, and Papa started for home; but the ship on which he sailed was wreck¬ ed, and poor Papa was drowned. We used to live in New York; but after that Mamma moved out here, and she and Aunt Mary took in sewing, but Mamma has been sick for a long time now.” , Taking Gladys in his arms, the man said: “Do you know little one, I am your father and have been searching for you and your mother for over four years.” When Aunt Mary heard the story she was so surprised that she could hardly speak but he was the same George who had left them five years before and when he said, “God bless you Mary, for staying with Nell all the time,” she hurried away saying: “I had better tell Nell at once, but it is a hard task for it will harm her to be excited.” When A unt Mary entered the room where Nell was, she was at once ask¬ ed whom she had been talking to. “Now don’t get excited, Nell, it was only one of the neighbors, who called to ask how you were,” she replied. “Oh the voice sounded to me so much like George’s,” and the flush which had died her cheek gave place to its usual pallor. “I wonder if I shall ever see him again.” Then gazing longingly out of the window, she said: “Do you know Mary it doesn’t seem to me that he can be dead.” “And when we landed I searched could wait no longer. Then he told them how he had been saved, and how his name had been left out of the list of the saved by mistake, “And when we landed I searcheed for you, my Nell, for you and for our baby. No one knew where you were, and while you lived here in poverty, I lived in luxury, for father left us his entire fortune; but we are united at last, through our little Gladys, our “Little Heroine.” BIRDIE WISE. When the Fruit Cake In Handy, By Gayle Roberts. “Good-bye.” Write soon.” “Be back at Easter.” “Don’t forget to give my love to Grace.” These were a few of the remarks that Dorothy heard as she got on the train bound for home from college. She settled herself and her many be¬ longings comfortably in the two large seats, and waited for the three min¬ utes of grace to pass when she should be whirled away from her friends. Two minutes of grace had expired, when every one was startled by the cry, “O, do wait, Dot, you must have this,” which cry seemed to come from the other side of the station. Every one turned and beheld Betty — dear, kind-hearted, though behind- time Betty — running at the top of her speed, hair flying, no hat, and bearing in her up-stretched hands, what ap¬ peared to ge a large band-box. Dorothy hastily opened the window, and Betty thrust into her hand this same band-box, the bottom of which seemed rather warm. “It is the fruit cake mother made for you,” explained Betty breathlessly. It is rather warm yet for it just came from the oven.” Dorothy carefully deposited the cake on the seat beside her, and just