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

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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

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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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I II l£ OREEN AN D W H I I E 11 never rings on time, so I’m a-going to fix up tliet bed into a fust-class alarm clock bed. and I connect it all around, and in the morning, instead of ringing it’ll make the bed shake just enough to make yer feel it rock. Gee. it’ll work great, too!” “Mum.” canto his wife’s rejoinder. Then, after considering for a time, she said : “Well, you can hev the bed. but I know it won’t be any good. And with this encouraging remark, she rose abruptly and began clearing the supper table. In a week’s time the alarm clock bed was finished and installed in the house. The first night they slept in it a peculiar thing happened. About 2 o’clock in the morning the bed began to rock gently, back and forth, then gradually it shook more and more, but Hiram and Mirandy slept peacefully on. Finally, as the bed was shaking rather violently, and the sleepers, who had been awakened by it. were preparing to arise, the bed gave one last violent shake and collapsed with a loud bang. Hiram managed to roll off in time, but his wife, with a shriek, placed her head under the pillow and fainted. Mr. Jones, for once spry, ran about looking for the vinegar bottle. He found a bottle, but in it was blueing. This he applied to his wife’s nostrils after he bad pulled her from beneath the ruins. Mirandy came out of the faint, not as the result of the smell of the liquid, as Hiram thought, but because the coolness of it revived her. The very first thing she managed to say was “Well, I told you so. didn’t I?” Hiram groaned and put his hands to bis head: then, as he saw his wife’s face by the dim light of the candle which he had lighted, he went off in gales of laughter so long and so loud that Mirandy. for the first time in her life, joined him in a laugh which she made sound even louder than her husband’s. JESSIE MOLASKY, 20. SOME OF OUR LITTLE-APPRECIATED TALENTS A great feeling of sadness often comes over me when I think of the talents in our schools so little appreciated. The manner in which the accomplishments of the pupils are disregarded, and even laughed at. is to me the saddest matter of all. Now. think of Harrv Young. Every one realizes with what fluency and accuracy he translates his Latin, and yet. the members of the class merely look at him when he finishes, as if his translation was an ordinary one. He neither receives praise nor encouragement from his classmates, and to me his never-faiing endurance is a constant source of admiration. Also. Olive Coggcshall’s sweet voice, which is always able to reach the high notes in singing, has always seemed to be unjustly overlooked. I have often thought of the unfairness of not allowing such a tall, strong boy as John Walsh to play on the baseball team when that tiny, little boy. George Cooke by name, and that weak little Baker boy are allowed to play. If more of the pupils took advice from Mr. Doran and followed his motto: “Always Have Your Work Done on Time,” I am sure that they would be helping themselves a great deal. Of course. Mr. Doran always follows his motto, especially in the case of History and Geometry. Little do the pupils realize what skill in drawing James Sullivan has been showing lately. On account of ignorance his friends do not appreciate the pictures which he sometimes modestly shows to them. Joseph Kelley is at last arousing the school to the knowledge of his oratorical skill. After a long, hard struggle the force, coherency and clearness of his speaking have won their way into the pupils’ hearts. Those who have attended the Junior geometry class have bad the pleasure of seeing Miss Theresa Morrissey work out exercises and realize with what brilliancy Miss Morrissey is endowed. However, I have heard pupils talking who have considered Miss Morrissey of ordinary ability. Do we really honor Milton Hill sufficiently in regard to geometry? We are obliged to admit that he always knows his geometry perfectly without asking a Question. Is Mr. Palmer held In high enough estimation? The one who is always willing •to help his friends and always knows the place when called on. And so it goes on. as it always shall— great talents, little appreciation. OLIVE COGGESHALL, ’20. THE DIARY OF A ROOKIE June 1. I marched for three miles to-day and when the captain told us to Ditch tents I threw mine into the middle of the road. The captain didn’t seem to like this. June 5. I don’t believe I like the captain. He hasn’t anv manners. The other day the captain told us to come to port arms.” While I was standing there he came up and. without asking me. took my gun. I looked very hard at him, so he gave it back to me. June 7. The other day the captain asked the company a hard question. I was the only one that could answer it. He promoted me to the front rank. June 8. I guess I will leave the army. Last night I was on guard duty, the first sergeant came along: I asked him for the countersign. The first sergeant said George Washington.” I told him I hadn't asked for the first President of the United States and I put him in the guard house. Now I am in the guard house, for the reason that “George Washington” was the countersign. June l.L One boy in my tent received a box of pills supposed to cure kidney trouble. Thev only made him sick and he missed drill that day. I have taken five nills so far and missed four days. The fifth dav the camp doctor found out what I was doing. Now be has forbidden us to take pills without his nermission. June 14. 1 have just learned that we arc to be moved to South Carolina. June 28. I have been travelling for a couple of weeks. Now we’re in South Carolina I have been made corporal of the thirteenth squad. July 1 Been on a furlough for three