Charlotte High School - Delphian Yearbook (Charlotte, MI)

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DELPHIAN, C. H. 8. NINETEEN SIXTEEN Down to th ' settlement house. Will you take me there? James, order the ear. In a few minutes they were speeding away toward the settlement house. That ride seemed the longest David Ames had ever taken. As they drew up at the curb a cold hand seemed to grip the man ' s heart, for there stood an ambulance with all its dreadful suggestion of sickness and death. Were they too late? Had he let this poor little soul go when by more thoughtfulness and kindness he might have prevented its flight? The white uni- formed attendants appeared bearing the quiet and apparently lifeless little form on a stretch- er. Fear held David Ames silent for a moment, then he approached one of the men, and, with a trembling voice, asked Is he — gone? Somehow he could not bring himself to the ut- terance of that awful word — dead. No, but he is very sick. W e are just tak- ing him to the hospital. I ' m interested in that boy, will you take him to my home instead of the hospital? Then as the man hesitated a moment in inde- cision he added roughly, He will have good care. I can get a doctor and nurse there as soon as you can. For the second time that day the big house, which was usually so quiet and gloomy, was all confusion. What has struck Mr. David? He hasn ' t been like this in years, James asked as he helped the cook fill a tray for the doctor. Perhaps this boy in the house will do him good, she replied hopefully, but there was a skeptical smile on James ' face. The doctor came out of the sick-room and the man who had been nervously pacing the hall, turned to him quickly. I am sorry, Mr. Ames, to have to trouble you but this nurse won ' t do. The boy keeps calling for his Rose-Lady, as he has named the settlement nurse. I ' m afraid we will have to send for her for he must not be excited in any way. Have I your permission? Certainly, Doctor, spare no pains or money in saving him. The boy ' s life had suddenly become very dear to him. As the doctor started to leave the man found himself saying eagerly but with a queer choke in his throat, Will he live. Doctor? Well, its hard to say as yet but I think he has a chance. If he only had a stronger constitution but he is half-starved besides the exposure to the cold. However, we will do our best and I take it that if good care and love can do it he will get well. You may go in and see him if you wish. Well, Peter, this is a great way to cele- brate Christmas. What about our party? I ' m awful sorry, Mr. Ames, but honest I couldn ' t help it, and the child reached out a hand to his friend. When will my Rose-Lady come? I want her to sing to me like she did last night. She will soon be here, Peter. Could I tell you a story instead? he asked just a bit jeal- ovisly. Would you? I ' d like it. Do you know, Mr. Ames, you would make a dandy father. Why haven ' t you any boys? I have, now. You are going to be my little boy Peter, and when you get well we will have the most fun together. Do you really want me, and may I call you father? Yes, yes, of course you must call me that. Now close your eyes and we will have the story. ' ' So the Rose-Lady found them when she came softly in. David — you! she exclaimed sharply. Judith. Oh, do you know my Rose-Lady, father? As he received no answer Peter asked again. ' ' Rose-Lady do you know my father ? ' ' Your what? Then remembering his crit- ical condition she answered hastily, Yes, dear, I do. Now let ' s try to sleep, but in spite of her brave effort the soft voice would tremble a little. The man silently crossed the room to the door. Oh, you mustn ' t go, father, I want you to hear Rose-Lady sing. Page twenty-four

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DELPHIAN, C. H. S. NINETEEN SIXTEEN The Rose-Lady (By Velma Sackett. ' IB.) Paper, sir? Something in the childish voice stirred David Ames from his revery and looking down at the urchin at his elbow, he frowned. No, of course not, was his gruii reply. Pretty cold night, isn ' t it? the child ' s teeth chattered in spite of his brave effort to restrain them. With a start the man turned back. A bad night — yes, indeed. He was cold in his heavy coat while this little fellow could be cheerful even as he stood there, shivering in his rags. Yes, I will take one, boy! Thank you, sir. As the great dark eyes were lifted to his, memory stirred vaguely in his heart, yet it was nothing tangible, nothing he eould name. He slipped the paper into his pocket and continued on his way but somehow the little newsboy kept returning to his thoughts and he eould not forget the cheer and patience that shone in those dark eyes. The next night he found himself looking for the little fellow amidst the throng of people. In the nights which followed he made the purchasing of a paper an excuse for talking to the child and when he was missing for even one night, David Ames was coming to feel a sense of disappointment, for he looked forward to these snatches of conversation as the one bright spot in the day. As he was pocketing his change one evening the child timidly laid a bare, red hand on his sleeve and looking up into the stern face said, A Merry Christmas, Mr. Ames. Why it was Christmas eve and this was the first time he had thought of it or heard the wish expressed to him. Here, Peter, take this and buy yourself a gift with it, he said as he pulled some money from his pocket. Oh! Thank you, sir. The man walked on again lost in thought. What a lonely time of year it was — how he dreaded going back to that dark and gloomy place which he called home, with its velvet hangings tightly drawn over the windows, its closed rooms and shrouded furniture which he had long ago ceased to use. If only the boy had not reminded him that it was Christmas — after all money could not buy happiness. Why, doubtless, that ragged urchin was happier than he with all his riches. A man and woman passed him, laughing and chatting gaily; he looked longingly after them; he, too, might have been happy. The only way to get hap- piness, my son, is to give it. These words which his dear old mother had so often re- peated kept ringing through his head. I wonder, he mused, if I really could make anyone happy. How — how do you know whom to help. It had been a long time since David Ames had thought of anyone but himself. Scarcely realizing what he did, he turned back, and re- tracing his steps, reached the corner where his little friend was still striving to sell his papers. Peter, would you like to go home and spend Christmas with me since you have no one else in the world ? ' ' Had that been his own voice which spoke, so alive and full of emo- tion? He hardly knew. A look of happiness came over the child ' s Christmas day dawned clear and cold. All was confusion and excitement in the big stone house of David Ames ; servants hurried about opening rooms that had long been closed, pack- ages arrived, an immense tree was set up in the library — even the master seemed to be filled with the Christmas spirit and was kinder than he had been in several years. Noon came, but no Peter appeared ; an hour of anxious waiting passed and then the man turned away from the window and ordered dinner in a voice irom which all the life seemed to have fled. Suddenly the ring of the door-bell pealed through the house and without waiting for the butler, David Ames opened the door himself. If you please, sir, Peter said I was to tell you he can ' t come, bein ' as how he ' s sick. What, Peter sick! Where? Page twenty-three

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DELPHIAN, C. H. S. NINETEEN SIXTEEN I want to see the doctor, Peter. I ' ll be back soon, his voice was harsh now with past grievances. No, no, I want j ' ou to stay. Please, father. You had better humor him; perhaps he will go to sleep soon. There is no time to consider ourselves — if, she added in a low tone, we are to save him. He nodded, then quietly sat down by the bed. His heart was leaping at her nearness and at the unconscious use of that little word we. Then his face hardened and his jaws clicked determinedly as he thought of all the pain she had caused him. It was five years ago that she had told him they could never be happy together while he was making and then ruining men in his business. Five years of sol- itude and unhappiness — yet, here she was in this very house to wliich he had planned to bring her as his wife. A week passed by in this way — a week of strained , relations for these two, yet in one thing they were of the same purpose — the sav- ing of Peter ' s life. This was their anxiety over Peter, for he had grown very dear to them both in the past few months. The crisis will come touight, the doctor had said and so they settled themselves for the long vigil. Midnight came and over the sleeping city the bells rang in the new year. What happi- ness and joy he might have looked forward to, was David Ames ' thought as, with bowed head, he listened to the last note die away. Then for the first time in years, the master of many another man ' s fate prayed to his Maker. What if he should lose Peter now, just when he had come to love him, and what if he should lose Judith again, too. Money could not buy hap- piness, she had been right — God ' s plan did not work that way. Breathlessly they watched over the little fellow as he lay there in a stupor. He aroused and looked questioningly at the three faces bending over him. Good night, father. Tomorrow we v ill have our party. Don ' t let Rose-Lady go away, will you? Then upon receiving the man ' s promise he sighed happily, closed his eyes and soon dropped into a quiet, natural sleep. He will live, was the doctor ' s brief ver- dict and with a few whispered directions he left. As David wearily rose from his chair he met Judith ' s eyes full of love and understanding. Dear, I promised Peter I would keep his Rose-Lady, he said softly. David! The first rosy tints of dawn showed in the sky when they at last stole softly from the bedside of the sleeping child. That dawn of a new day — of a new year ! The Artist (By LiUian E. Howard.) He had the artistic temperament. His fea- tures were finely chiseled and his mouth sensi- tive and in his dark eyes there glowed at times a spark of that celestial fire which Prometheus stole so long ago from the abode of the im- mortals. And he played that most divine of in- struments, the v iolin, very well for a boy, so well that in rare moments, heaven and earth seemed to vanish away and there was nothing left but harmony. He had great dreams of his future and in his boyhood days his head often whirled with .visions, visions of the time when he should be a great artist and win the adulation of brilliant throngs in far famed capitals, or a great com- poser whose melodies should live forever. The rainbow promise of his youth bade fair to be fulfilled, for he was sent to one of the best schools of music. But in the midst of his course there came a great calamity which darkened his sky and left to him no traces of Page twenty-five