Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

Page 11 text:

THE SENIOR MAGNET 9 the patients, a happy smile played about her lips. Jack said he knew that he would soon get well now, because it was a great load lifted from his heart and he knew Dolores loved him. And he was true to his word, for one fine afternoon we find him leav- ing the hospital, leaning on the arm of Dolores Burke, who tomorrow at this same time would be Mrs. Jack Reed.

Page 10 text:

8 THE SENIOR MAGNET where an anaesthetic was being ad- ministred to Jack. She grasped his pulse and the operation began. Dolores had a feeling that she had seen this man before but couldn't place him. The case was given over to her and she became very much in- terested, never leaving his bedside ex- cept to get a few hours sleep while another nurse took her place. Jack's wound did not heal and it was necessary for him to remain at the hospital. He had a guilty feeling every time Dolores was around him, for he remembered this girl as the one he had stolen from not so long ago. Now 'here she was caring for him as tenderly as a mother for her child. He felt he must confess to her, for every day his love swelled in his heart. One day he could stand it no long- er and he called her to his side. He first told her of his love and asked if she would listen to a confession he had to make. A tender look flashed in her eyes and she took his hand in her own, telling him to begin his story. He told her how his life had been one of poverty, how he worked at a gas station during the day, and how he had gotten in with this tough bunch who taught him how to steal cleverlv without being caught. He said, My life was not meant to be that of a thiefg but how I came under the influence of that gang, I do not know. I wouldn't break myself of these tricks. So one night a bunch of the fellows dared me to hold up the first nretty girl that came along. At first I refused, but they kept taunting me, and I determined that I would show them. You happened to be the victim. I was sorry immediately after it was done because I believe that I loved you from that time on and I didn't want to hurt you. The picture of your face has never once left me. I still have your little ring. I just could not part with it and as far as for the two dollars I took, it will be paid back as soon as I am able to do it. During this confession, the tears slowly trembled down Dolores, cheek and she knew she could not deny that she returned his love. What could she do for him? She knew as soon as he was well there would be a trial, because the rest of the gang had been rounded upg and then what? Pro- bably a long sentence in prison. Dolores had noticed this ring on his little finger but never thought it was her's for the one she had was just a cheap one and naturally there would be many like it. And now as he handed it over to her with a little pathetic look, she pushed it away from her, telling him to keep it for good luck in the future. By that, he knew he was forgiven and all there was for him to do was to hurry and get well. But the day of the trial came and ,lack was not able to be present. It lasted three days only because the cir- cumstantial evidence was not clearly given. During this time, Jack lay in his bed, fearing the outcome of the trial. But finally it was over and Jack learned the news. The Gang con- fessed to the whole thingg but they also confessed that Jack was 'fgreenf' and having come under their influ- ence, was taken advantage of. The leader of the gang nick-named f'Two- gun Joe appealed to the judge, say- ing, f'The kid is innocent, this is his first offense. Make it easy for himf' The result was the 'fgangu was sent to prison for a five years and Jack was let off with a hundred dollars fine and some good sound advice which was given to him by the judge, who went to the hospital to see Jack soon after the trial. Dolores was so happy she could scarcely hold in her joy. Even when going about her daily routine among

Page 12 text:

10 THE SENIOR ZMAIGNET ' While London Sleeps JOSEPH J. GRAHANI London, that foggy metropolis, The one city of the world. Such was Peter Grayson's opinion of that fam- ed historical city. Quite a compli- ment to be paid by a Parisian. Yes, a Parisian. Can you imagine a Paris- ian speaking like that? Impossible, the people would say, but wait- Peter Grayson was a student of Art. Before old enough to enter the schools he passed away his spare time in idolizing the great artists of the world. He had to keep the wolf away from his door-or starve. So, leav- ing his dear old Paris behind, he en- tered into a broad, wide, open world full of miseries and misfortunesg per- haps to die-perhaps to become famous. Five years passed and still Peter Grayson was struggling--he had not yet attracted the attention of artistic London. But he was not one who would give up. He would make all London cast their eyes on Peter Grayson, and then-his youthful am- bitions wou.ld be recognized. Peters path was difficult. London was so hard to please-oh, it was not like Paris where one could be- come famous almost over night. But London was the artistic center and not Parisi To be recognized by the National Artists Club meant fame, wealth and-life. London appealed to Peter. He loved the city, but did the city love him? he asked himself time and again. He was becoming thin and scarcely ate. He was losing -but he would play the game! One day as Peter was coming from his room, a thought suddenly came to him. He would take his paintings to the National Artists Club-he would have them pass their judgment on his drawings-he would make them recognize him. So, he re-enter- ed his room, gathered up his paintings, put them under his arms and de- parted. Night was falling. The fog was thick, so thick that one could hardly see a light in front of him. Few peo- ple were on the streets. There was hardly a sound-everything seemed dead. Suddenly a coughing was heard. It was growing worse and worse every moment and then a faint cry and--silence. The next day lay Peter Grayson in his cold and almost bare room, except for a few wierd looking canvases. He was ghostly pale, his eyes were half- opened and-he lay coughing. Not a single soul to watch over him-not a particle of food or medicine was in the room. All was bare. Suddenly almost as black as pitch-there was not a noise. Five years passed, it was the day of the hundredth anniversary of the National Artists Club-all London was keyed-up. Everyone was talking pictures-hardly a word was spoken without having some bearing on the hundredth anniversary of the Nation- al Artists Club. That night precisely at eight o'clock, the doors of the National Artists Club were thrown open-all London was invited and was there. Pictures, beautiful scenes were on ex- hibition. Never did the people of London see such master-pieces. The works were gorgeous. To pick the best was a job. The officials them- selves were completely overcome by such an exhibition from which to pick the prize-winner. A hush fell over the crowd, the officials were coming