Bristol High School - Green and White Yearbook (Bristol, RI)

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THE (i R E E N AND WHITE 9 arrived there just in time to swing onto the platform of the last train. He found a seat beside a cheaply dressed young man who wore a monocle over his right eye. The young man assumed a very injured expression as he tenderly • took his own suitcase off the seat beside him and put it on the floor. He stared with glassy green eyes in a very disconcerting manner at Mr. Maxwell as he put his own suitcase in the rack above them. As Mr. Maxwell's foot accidentally knocked the suitcase on the Hoor. the be-monocled young man started violently, cast a hurried glance about him. and painfully blushed. He seemed very restless and Mr. Maxwell found him very annoying, for he played with the golden cord that was fastened to the monocle, unbuttoned his coat, took out his jeweled scarfpin. examined it intently, drummed on the window-sill, crossed his knees, uncrossed them, put back his scarfpin. straightened his tie. settled his collar and buttoned his coat, after which he unbuttoned it. played with the golden cord of the monocle, straightened his tie. settled his collar, buttoned his coat, crossed his knee, and remarked in a casual tone. “Swell day.” Mr. Maxwell glanced at him. “Yes. remarkably fine.” he answered in an absent tone which did not encourage conversation. The young man, however, was not disposed to notice hints, so he began again. “Have a piece of newspaper?” “Thank you. I have one.” and Mr. Maxwell drew one which he had read, from his coat pocket, and opened it. preferring the uninteresting pastime of reading the society column or the “Want Ad” section to the conversation of this slangy youth. Mr. Maxwell found himself growing more and more irritated with the unceasing movement by his side, and long before he reached his own station he snatched up the suitcase, walked up the aisie. and stood before the door. Once or twice he looked back at the be-monocled young man, but he appeared to be lost in his own thought. At last the train stopped at his station, and Mr. Maxwell jumped off. He ran up the street just in time to see the street car he was to take go banging along ’way ahead of him. He stopped, trod heavily on the ground, and muttered vehement expressions. Now for a good two-mile walk. He had not gone far when one of his friends came along in his car. “Going home?” he shouted. “Yes, missed the car.” shouted back Mr. Maxwell. So his friend stopped and said: “I'm going around by the Swamp Road. Yon can take a short-cut through the lots, and get home quicker.” Mr. Maxwell got in and they were soon outside the town. The Swamp Road took a large circle, about five miles from the town, but one part of it went near Mr. Maxwell’s house, and at this part he was to start across-lots. They had gone about halfway around the road, when Mr. Maxwell suddenly glanced at his suitcase and exclaimed: “Oh. say. I’ve got the wrong suitcase! I’ll have to walk back and see if 1 can find my own.” “Oh! Too bad!” sympathized his friend as he stopped the car and Mr. Maxwell got out and started back to town. As soon as the car was out of sight, he again trod heavily on the ground and uttered those same vehement expressions, then he walked on. much relieved in mind. AfteT an hour he reached the station, but the young man of the monocle was nowhere to be seen. Mr. Maxwell went out. intending to go to a restaurant for some dinner, but he had not gone far when he felt some one tap him on the shoulder. Mr. Maxwell started, turned around and confronted the brass buttons of a gigantic, florrid-faced policeman. “What is it?” asked Mr. Maxwell curtly. ‘You are to follow me.” responded the man of the brass buttons. “Why?” asked Mr. Maxwell. Rut Mr. Brass Buttons pretended not to hear. “Some bag. that.” he said, indicating the suitcase belonging to the young man of the monocle. “It’s not mine.” said Mr. Maxwell. “No? Well, it’s some bag just the same,” answered Mr. Brass Buttons. Mr. Maxwell was piloted up a street into a large gray house and left in the corridor while Mr. Brass Buttons went to another room and conversed with another man. At last they came out—Mr. Brass Buttons and a very pompous, dignified short and stout man. He looked significantly at the suitcase and murmured to Mr. B. Buttons. “I told you so.” Then, as he stepped up to Mr. Maxwell, he said in a very frosty voice: “Sir. we have been told to watch that suitcase. As you were carrying it. of course we had to make the arrest.” “Yes. But why the suitcase? asked Mr. Maxwell. “Because, the I-told-you-so man condescended to explain, as it involved some of the work of his own clever brain, because, no matter how many beards or wigs or glasses a man puts on. the suitcase always remains the same.” “But suppose they change suitcases.” said Mr. Maxwell. “They do not often do so, answered the frosty voice. “You will now follow me.” Mr. Brass Buttons picked.up the suitcase and went with Mr. Maxwell and Mr. 1-told-vou-so into an adjoining room. On one side of this room was a sort of sink, info which a stream of water could be turned. To this Mr. I-told-you-so went. He placed the suitcase directly under the faucet and turned on the water. Mr. Maxwell watched interestedly while Mr. I-told-you-so carefully unlocked the suitcase and opened it. inch by inch. At last it was wide open and lie began to pull out pieces of dripping patchwork. Before lie had taken out many pieces, however, he came to a box which might have been very pretty; but it was no bedraggled and water-soaked. Under the ribbon which was tied around the box was an envelope containing a card. The writing on the card was in pencil. It read: “() Nellie Ann. Sweet Nellie Ann. Let’s go together in a span. O Nellie Ann I love but you. Sweet Nellie Ann. say you are true.” “This,” said Mr. I-iold-vou-so. tapping

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8 I 11b GREEN AND W H I T E girl made for the window, but oddly enough the tramp proved quite nimble and seized her. She struggled fiercely and at last broke away, picking up a stiletto which was lying on the table. When the tramp attacked her again she stabbed with all her force. Being afraid of the penalty of her act she dragged his lifeless body to the trap door in the lower fioor and dropped it down to the cellar. She told no one what she had done and she was never discovered, and thus the secret remains with her and me. “Soon, despite my will, although I do not care as much now as I did. they will tear me down, and all my secrets will be buried with me. and my decaying ancient architecture will be torn down to make room for a new and better house.” H. W. CHURCH. ’19. HUMAN MOSQUITOES Miranda’s work was all done and at last, and she could now think of her sorrows, and sorrows they surely were. The father that she had always loved and tenderly taken care of for five years had died at last, leaving her dependent on her sewing. She sat on the sunny piazza silently sewing, now and then wiping away a tear. Soon this silence was broken by: “How d’y do, Mirandy. thought I might as well come over and set a spell on the piazza with you. for. as 1 said to Hiram, I surely do know what a comfort it is to have some one sit with you at times like these. No. don’t git up. I’ll sit right down.” Now she laboriously wiped away a tear. “My. my! How awful your dear pa looked those last days! Boo. hoo! As I tell John, it is a pity he had to die. Don’t you think so. M i randy ?” Miranda said nothing, but during this salutation the peaceful expression had departed from her face. “Now, Mirandy. don’t you exert yourself to talk at all. For lands knows, as I told Hiram, haven’t I been thru such times before? ‘Oh, dear me. yes,’ says he, ‘you certainly have.’ and then he groaned. Now what do you suppose he meant bv that?” “I don’t know.” said Mirandy sweetly. “Wal. to return to our original cause. Mirandy. will you please tell me where and how in the world did you get a coffin as long as the one you got? It must have cost a sight. I wonder how you ever paid for it and goodness knows I am not the only one that wonders at it. as I told Hiram. “Mirandy. the other night about 6 o’clock I sat down kind of tired, you know, af ' -doijig the dishes, and I was sort of noddy. Well, who could expect different afteT yoiir pa dying, as I told Hiram. Wal. knock-knock ! at the door, you know. And I was sort of skeared. but I went and no one was to be seen, hut you know it was just the kind of night the dead like to visit us. On to 12 I went to bed I was that skeared that 1 did not dare to go before. Well, again came that knock, knock—so I sat right up and prayed so loud that Hiram woke up. I said : ‘Do you suppose. Hiram, that he— he —ahem. Well, who under the sun was that stranger at the funeral the other day? He sort of reminded me of a day in June about 20 years ago. But. as I said to Hiram, that could not be so. for I said he would come back to Mirandy after all these years. Say. wasn’t he peaked, tho. He is the fellow you used to walk out with, isn’t he? Well. I suppose I must he going”—but before Matilda went she peeked into the kitchen. A few minutes later Matilda hustled into Elvira Blake’s kitchen and sat down very comfortably in an armchair, then leisurely took off her shawl, as a person who had some very interesting news to impart to an attentive listener. She said: “Wal Mirandy has got a beau and what’s more she is going to get married. “What—Mirandy! Why. no man would look at her except that young city man she used to walk out with about 20 years ago.” cackled Elvira. “Yes, I will tell you how I found out. 1 said all unbeknown very innocent, you know. ‘Who was that stranger? Seems as if 1 connect him with 20 summers ago. and she blushed awful. Then I pecked into the kitchen as I came away and I saw a wedding dress, a wedding dress, a wedding dress.” she shrieked; then sighing. “Oh. well. 1 must be going or Hiram will never get his supper.” And she picked up her shawl and hustled out of the kitchen, probably to tell somebody else of the way Elvira Blake kept her house. GLADYS PAULL. ’20. TROUBLESOME EASTER EGGS It all happened because it was the Saturday before Easter, and Mr. Maxwell’s office boy’s small brother had. the day before, eaten a very beautiful Easter egg. which had left him with a bad toothache. It was a remarkable egg. very gorgeous and very sweet, and the toothache, in its own way. was just as remarkable. Friday night Mr. Maxwell’s office boy had to stay up all night to amuse his brother, who. however, would not be amused, for he cried and cried and cried. Saturday morning found the office hoy heavy-eyed and irritable, and no amount of coddling would make him otherwise. It took him half an hour to go to the bank across the street: he admitted afterwards that he had fallen asleep on the steps. His short-hand was more than usually illegible, and altogether he was very annoying; so at 1 o’clock, when Mr. Maxwell was ready to leave his office, he was nervous and provoked, looking forward with much displeasure to the afternoon of company m »nners which he was to spend at home with a week-end party consisting of his mother-in-law. his sister and her husband, although his mother-in-law expected to go home that evening. Mr. Maxwell packed his suitcase with things he wished to take home, locked it. then found that lie had forgotten a book So he unlocked the suitcase, unpacked the rest of the things to make a place for the books, packed it again and relocked it. He went down the two flights of stairs; and discovered that it was raining, so back lie went, got an umbrella, then ian down the stairs, up the street to the station and

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10 I HE GREEN A N I) WHIT E the card with his little finger, “is a code. Presently we will decipher It. And now the box! Mr. I-told-you-so grew quite neTvous. He started to take off the paper wrapper, hut his fingers shook so that he told Mr. B. Buttons to do it for him. But when he saw the mess that Mr. Brass Buttons was making. Mr. I-told-you-so rebuked him loudly and said that he could do better than that himself, so he took it and carefully put the wrappers back in place, then began to take them slowly off. It took three beginnings before he could make an end. but finally the papers were off and the box was ready to be opened. Mr. l-told-you-so tried it. and gave it tip. Mr. Brass Buttons tried it. but he, too. gave it up, so it was left to Mr. Maxwell, who took out his jacknife and cut out the bottom of the box. Plunk! Bang! Something fell to the floor. Mr. I-told-you-so grew livid, and gasped, expecting every second to be nlown to atoms. Even the florid-face of the policeman grew a shade lighter, and he used some of those same vehement expressions. Mr. Maxwell gazed anxiously at the thing on the floor, but nothing happened! There was no smoke, no fire, no noise, nothing exploded, nothing flew about the room in a thousand pieces, everything was quiet, everyone holding his breath, while Mr. Maxwell picked up the infernal thing. But still, everything was not over yet. The “thing” turned out to be a very beautiful candy Easter egg—but who could tell what was inside. Mr. I-told-you-so “alicmed” very loudly, took the egg and held it under the water. Slowly, slowly, it dissolved away, and as time went. Mr. I -told-you-so grew very agitated. He stepped from one foot to the other, cleared his throat, and changed the egg from his right hand to his left, until Mr. Maxwell could stand it no longer. He took the egg and began to break off small pieces, while Mr. I-told-you-so wildly protested. hen the egg had grown quite small something red shone through, and finally a red glass heart lay in Mr. Maxwell’s hand. He stared at it dubiously, so did Mr. Brass Buttons. It was obvious that thev were both very much disappointed; but Mr. I-told-you-so—he had vanished into the air. “How do you suppose it got there?” asked Mr. Maxwell. “1 dunno! Some mistake somewhere!” said Mr. Buttons. Perhaps a simil—-” started Mr. Maxwe'l. but his words were cut short. The door banged and in bounced the young man of the monocle. He was hatiess. nis coat was unbuttoned, his jeweled scarfpin was gone, his collar was turned around, his tie was streaming out behind him and his monocle w;;s dangling restlessly at his side. “You!—You!” lie gasped, so out of breath lie could hardly speak. Mr. Maxwell pounced on him. Have you got my suitcase?” he shouted. Xo—I left—it!” gasped the young man. “Where?” thundered Mr. Maxwell. “On the train, of course.” answered the be-monocled. feeling somewhat better, as be had just returned his monocle to his right eye. Mr. Maxwell .sank in a chair, but recovered when he remembered that his name was printed on the suitcase. What’s all this trash?” asked Mr. Buttons, looking about the room at the soaking suitcase, the patchwork, about which was a little puddle of water, and at the empty box. “This trash is a proposal to a girl,” answered the young man. drawing himself up haughtily. “I pride myself on my original proposals. And the patchwork.” he added, catching sight of it. “I put that in there so as not to jar the egg. So you see. Pm very clever.” “Yes, awfully clever! Here, you can look to this man for damage.” said Mr. Maxwell, nodding at Mr. Buttons, “and. meanwhile, I’ll go to see if I can get my suitcase.” He went to the station and luckily the bag was there, so he took it. then stood on the corner for his car. He looked at his watch and saw that it was 4.15, and that he had missed the car. but he also saw that if he walked home he would miss his mother-in-law. EMILY SAX FORD. ’21. I TOLD YOU SO An inventor’s wife no doubt has her share of the world’s burden of troubles. Mrs. Hiram Jones surely thought her share of them complete. Tall, angular, with sharp features as well as sharp voice and manners, she cared for the small farm on which she and her husband lived, in such manner that it not only paid well but also enabled her to set aside a little money for a rainy day. Hiram Jones, as tall and as angular as his bustling and neat wife, was shiftless, and especially lazy when there was any work to be done. His wrinkled face spelled good nature, and his wife often remarked that If Hiram had kept all he’d given away, we’d be as rich as John D. Rockefeller by now.” By occupation Hiram was a farmer, but by profession an inventor, and what things he did invent! He found means of modernizing everything he came in contact with, and as a result, all things modernized by him were practically useless ever after. “Well. Mirandy.” he said in an indignant voice one day. “if you wasn’t forever naggin’ and hollerin’ ‘I told yer so.’ every time something don’t work just right, mebbe I’d hev the courage to invent something that would bring a fortune. But when someone like you is forever hollerin' 1 told yer so’—why. how va gonna do it?” And he made an appealing gesture to his wife, who pretended she wasn’t listening. One evening he slouched into his seat at the supper table, looking unusually submissive. His wife, who could read him like a book, kept silent. Finally, without raising his eyes from his plate.’ he said in an ordinary matter-of-fact voice: “Mirandy. do you mind if I take the bed out in the shack to-morrer?” “What!” came the sham voice of his wife. “Wall. I’m jiggered! Xow what might yer be a’ goin’ to do with thet bedstead?” Well, yer see. thet alarm clock of our’n