Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

Page 15 text:

THE SENIOR {MAGNET 13 “Now, who under heaven is this Deborah Fielding, and what kind of a new scrap are you into?” Already one could see by the expression of Tom’s eves that some new idea had obsessed him. “I'm as innocent as a new born babe,” he said. “You know Deborah as well as I do. I can just imagine her though—a little white haired, peppery tempered old lady with a vivid imagination. 1 must certainly give her credit, though, for using unique language. 1 suppose all she has to do is to sit around with her knitting and shoot orders at the servants. Wonder what they’ve been up to now?” “Well, this is surely a good one on you. Best I’ve heard in a long time!” and Holt laughed just as heartily as Pom had. But what do you expect to do about it? Hire a Pinkerton or disguise yourself as Sherlock Holmes, and probe the mystery?” “Neither,” answered Tom, “both are too conventional. That dear old lady either didn’t know anything about child psychology or else she didn’t know me. You know, when you tell a child not to do a thing, they suddenly get a determination to do it. That’s my case. Besides, I’ve always had a hankering to strike up an acquaintance with some nice old lady—might need her for a chaperon some time. You see what 1 mean?” Holt grinned broadly as he replied, “Yes, I understand you. 1 might have guessed as much for it’s just like you. I’m not worried about the chaperon though, but I’m kind of sorry I'll not be here to watch the fun” and he got up to go. “What do you mean? You’re not leaving town are you?” asked Tom in a surprised tone as he accompanied his friend to the door. “Yes,” replied Holt, that’s what I dropped in to tell you. Uncle's sending me over to Hurope on business—have to chase up some old papers to settle a family squabble. Then while I’m over there, 1 expect to travel about some.” “Well, I’ll miss you Old Top, but I’m glad you’re going; you’ll surely have a fine time. When are you going, and how long do you expect to be gone?” said Tom as he slapped Holt vigorously on the shoulder. “I sail Saturday,” Holt answered, “and expect to be gone about six months. But I’ll always receive my mail if it is sent to the Hotel-, Paris, so you must write to me and let me know how the mystery unfolds and I’ll try to keep you in touch with my movements across the way.” After talking a little more about Holt’s intended journey, Mart finally took his departure and Toni turned back to his apartment to think. Sunday 28, 1919 Dear Mart:— According to the calendar, it’s only three weeks since your boat sailed, but so much has happened in that time that it seems like months. Two of the fellows at the office are off on their vacation now and that keeps the rest of us hopping. The Tuesday after you left, I started on my solution of the mystery. From the city directory, I found the addresses of a good many Fieldings and bv fishing Joe Tubble (Joe’s our right hand man—I think he knows everyone in N. Y. City by name) I found at which one Deborah lived. The house is a dream—me thinks that Deborah must be w'orth a tidy sum. It was in the morning that 1 found the place, I think I walked past it twenty times, trying to think up some plan by which I could meet Deborah.”

Page 14 text:

12 7 H E SENIOR £M A G N E T “FILIBUSTERING” Elizabeth Mulholland HOUGH a knight of that illustrious calling, a newspaper reporter, the word “filibustering” had never found its way into the vocabulary of Tom Ward. He had a somewhat hazy conception of the meaning of the word but could not have formed a verbal definition for it. This was the reason why his friend, Martin Holt, happening in upon him one nice June evening, found him pondering over an open “unabridged.” ‘Found a new indoor sport, old boy? inquired Holt as he comfortably settled himself in a big easy chair. “Why I thought you knew Webster verbatim.” But Ward did not answer this banter with his usual quick retort and Holt noticed that he had a preoccupied air about him. At length Tom answered. “I’m really serious for once, Mart. Perhaps you can help me out some. Just what does the word “filibustering” convey to your mind? And Tom shot a curious glance at Holt. Holt got up from his chair and after walking about the room and unconsciously examining the pictures on the walls, he answered, “To tell you the truth, Tom. I’ve never heard the word used in conversation; but 1 must have read something about it because it brings to my minu a picture of some greasy Mexicans or Spaniards shooting up a town. But why the commotion about it?” “Just my thoughts” and a few of the wrinkles, which felt ill at ease on Tom’s forehead, were glad to flee. “You must read Davis' and 01 lenrv’s short stories, too, for I think that’s where 1 got my idea of the word. Listen! the dictionary gives it as: “A lawless military adventure; a pirate.” “Now I ask you—can you imagine Thomas Finnigan Ward, cub reporter for the New York Times, and son of the late John Ward, prominent banker, as a filibuster? Why, man alive, I thought they all lived in Cuba and carried picks and shovels, and here Tom doubled up with peals of convulsed laughter. A close observer would have noticed a momentary, but only momentary, twitching about the corners of Holt's mouth and then he drew himself up with affected coldness and when Tom’s hilarity was somewhat abated, he broke in, “I beg your pardon if I’ve broken in on a secret—of course you don’t have to explain your own private little mystery unless you want to.” “Aw come down off the horse!” chuckled Tom as he pushed a sheet of paper toward the other. “Read that.” and Tom took it eagerly and read: Mr. Ward Sir: Your perhaps well meant filibustering in other peoples’ business is altogether unappreciated and unwanted. I’m perfectly able to look after the interests of my own servants and consider your advances as an interference in my personal affairs. Kindly comply with these statements and save trouble. Sincerely, Deborah Fielding Mart’s face wore a puzzled expression and he asked in an astonished tone,

Page 16 text:

14 THE SENIOR {MAGNET I went hack to the office in the afternoon and the office boy bounced me for a subscription to a magazine—I swear I don’t know the name of it now. Well, Fate was playing into my hands. I subscribed and promised to get him some more subscriptions if he would lend me his credentials, and of course he was tickled at the thought. That evening I meandered forth with my subscription blanks and I certainly did look business like as 1 stalked up the front steps and boldly rang the bell. I asked the servant who answered to see Miss Deborah Fielding and was shown into a spacious, well furnished reception hall. Pretty soon Deborah came in and she was all my fancy had painted her except that I was all wrong about the peppery temper. She was as meek as a lamb, why she almost volunteered to subscribe. 1 felt as cheap as dirt and couldn’t get away quick enough. But this is only the opening scene for 1 don’t expect to give up so easily. I saw jour uncle-----------------------. July 20, 1919. Dear Mart:— Glad to hear that you got your business off vour hands so soon—you’ll have a fine opportunity for travelling now. At last I’ve got all the inside dope about the servant trouble in the Debor— but still she’s too nice to call that—Miss Fielding case. I can’t go into detail about it for it would be too long; but I’ll tell you a few of the facts and maybe you can get the gist of it. I got a proper introduction to the old lady thru accident and luckily she didn’t identify me as the magazine agent. I found out that her brother was an old schoolmate of my fathers’ and the old lady just more than palavered over me From words I picked up, that letter was intended for Mr. Ward, their neighbor, and was sent to him at his club, so of course I got it by mistake. Don’t you remember there is another Ward in the same club where I stay? Somehow or other he had gotten into a mixup about their servants, but that doesn’t concern me anymore and I didn’t take the trouble to find out the particulars. It’s a queer old world isn’t it! July 31, 1919 Old Thing:— I just couldn’t wait to hear from you, have to blow off to some one and you’re the only one in on the secret so you must be patient. Gosh. Mart, 1 never knew that the world was so beautiful—birds and flowers and clouds and all that. Work isn’t worrying me much these days, the fellows are back from their vacations and I’m taking it easy. I hat Deborah Fielding is sure an interesting and lovable old character as I found out in my frequent visits there. I'm glad dad was acquainted with the old lady, vou know' it kind of gives me a season ticket there. Boy, I’ve made the most wonderful discovery—I’m just in a trance. She’s certainly a beauty. I was going to tell you all about it in this letter, but I’ll wait further developments and have a surprise for you. When Holt got this letter he laughed heartily and said to himself “Poor Tom! I’m afraid he’s a gonner. Though I’ve never had the disease myself, 1 know the symptoms. When a fellow starts talking about birds and flowers