Butler High School - Magnet Yearbook (Butler, PA)

Page 30 text:

26 THE SENIOR MAGNET I ran across a limerick contest in the Science Monthly only last night. You know—one of those contests in which three lines of the jingle are given and you supply the last. I’ll get it.” Mrs. Snow gave an excited gurgle. Jean ran down to the stuffy little parlor, seized the magazine, and flew up stairs again. After a moment’s searching, she found the limerick. She read it thoughtfully. Let’s see, Mrs. Snow. The first prize is twenty-five dollars. The last line must rhyme with bee and must advertise this Knight’s Honey.” Tree, knee, he, she,” suggested Mrs. Snow with tremulous excitement. We, city, be, glee, me,” ruminated Jean. Me!” Mrs. Snow’s voice was triumphant. The World says, Knight’s Honey suits me!” Fine!” approved Jean. Where will I find some paper and ink?” In my desk.” Mrs. Snow was fairly trembling. For three days after the limerick had been mailed, the sick woman lived in mingled hope and fear. When she felt she could no longer stand the suspense, she called Jean to her bedside to ask for reassurance. Do you think the line was good enough, Nurse?” I’m sure of it, Mrs. Snow. Such a clever line!” But in her heart of hearts, Jean was becoming anxious. Sh e did not like the feverish look of her patient. If the old woman should be disappointed —. Twenty-five dollars! Jean’s Easter dress was to have cost her exactly twenty-five dollars. Such a little dream of a dress it was to have been! Blue— the dark blue which would have accentuated the warm color of her cheeks and the purple lights in her dark hair. Twenty-five dollars! Poor little Mrs. Snow, with her quaint ways, wanting so much to win a contest before her time.” Easter—the feel of the blue dress. Twenty-five dollars! When Dr. Merrill called that afternoon, Jean followed him to the door of the sick-room. Doctor?” Yes.” Dr. Merrill’s voice was crisp. Doctor, would you have your secretary write a note for me? I could do it myself, but a typewritten note would look so much more business-like. Have the note addressed to Mrs. Snow, informing her that her entry in the Knight’s Honey limerick contest has won first prize. Here are twenty-five dollars. Please have them changed to gold and mail it with the note.” What in the world—?” Dr. Merrill looked at her curiously. Swiftly, she told him the story of Mrs. Snow and her contests. When she finished, Dr. Merrill’s eyes were suspiciously damp. I’ll do it, Miss O’Neill, if you’ll let me in on it. I’ll donate fifteen dollars to the cause.” Jean smiled. No, I want to have the satisfaction of doing it all myself. Such a dear old lady!” He nodded. I know. All right, I’ll do it.”

Page 29 text:

THE SENIOR MAGNET 25 HM - — •' Mrs Snow’s Ambition Duira Baldinger THE last rays of the sun touched the gray hair on the pillow with tints of rose and gold. The woman’s eyes flickered open. Her head moved restlessly. Nurse!” I’m right here, Mrs. Snow.” Jean O’Neill looked over the top of her magazine. Oh! What’s that you’re reading?” The old eyes gleamed strangely. Burton’s Weekly. Would you like me to read to you?” The woman’s wrinkled face was tense. A line deepened on her forehead. Don’t read. Turn to page thirty and tell me the winners of last week’s contest. Please.” Jean turned to page thirty. There were three names. Mrs. Brown, 221 Green Avenue, Millvale; Miss Dickson, 340 Fairfield Street, Haverhill; Mrs. Wharton, 675 Elm Street, Georgetown.” Is that all. Nurse?” Yes, Mrs. Snow.” Thank you.” The face looked tired, discouraged. Jean looked at her keenly. Mrs. Snow, did you enter a letter in that contest?” Mrs. Snow averted her face with the shamed gesture of a child who has been discovered doing something foolish but enjoyable. Yes, I—I guess I’m just a silly old woman. I sent a letter in last week. That was before I took sick. Now, I’ll never have another chance at a contest.” Her voice was quivering. Jean looked at her understandingly. Would you like to win a contest, Mrs. Snow?” Two eyes looked at her wistfully. Nurse, if I could win just one contest before I die, I’d be happy. It’s not the prize I want but just the feeling of knowing what it is to win.” She was becoming confidential. For forty years, I’ve entered every contest I’ve heard of, but I’ve never won any of them. Now, I won’t have another chance. I heard what the doctor said this morning about my having only a week to live. Oh, don’t look so pitiful. I’m glad to go, but I would like to win a contest before my time comes. My daughters used to laugh at me. I don’t blame them—I suppose it was funny—but I would like to surprise them.” Her mouth was grim. Something hard and painful came into Jean’s throat. This old woman— entering all those contests—always hoping—always disappointed— listening to her daughters’ laughter—the height of her ambition to win a prize! Suddenly, she had an inspiration.

Page 31 text:

THE SENIOR MAGNET 27 Several days later, Mrs. Snow quietly passed away, a smile on her face and Jean’s gold piece held lovingly against her cheek. And we always laughed at her,” whispered a weeping daughter. The week after Mrs. Snow’s funeral, Nurse Jean O’Neill was seated beside the bedside of her newest patient, idly turning the pages of a magazine. The picture of a dish of honey caught her eye. Below it, in bold type, was the heading, Announcement of Winners in Knight’s Honey Limerick Contest.” And then, Mrs. Ida Snow, R. D. 3, Rosetown—First Prize-Winner.” The magazine slipped slowly to the floor. Sonnet On a Shooting Star Alice Wellner ’30 Out in the star-studded heavens high, I saw a star fall from the sky. One quick glance! It dropped from my sight, And faded into the silent night. Out of the twinkling myriad dome, God singled it out to come alone To this dreary earth. I thought, how like our short life here. We live our lives ’midst friends so dear; Yet when we enter Death's abyss. No one can join us in our tryst, For we alone must cross the bar, Just as does the shooting star; Darting from heaven to earth.