College of St Marys of the Springs - Yearbook (Columbus, OH)

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ww . smug 3 M45 . :wif e Nui i ming , Wag , mug f :WC , crowd of boys and girls and we boys raced the girls to the mill, about a mile and a half disf- tant. Naturally the boys won. Oh, there's the rub, mother. We didn't. Only one girl raced with us and she fairly flew over the ice, reaching the goal a long time before I did. I suppose your felt your defeat keenly since you don't often have experiences of that kind, the mother smiled. , No, mother, somehow I didn't, Wick replied, changing the subject abruptly and omit- ting all mention of the dandelion. Now see how late it has grown. Come, it's time to retireg but just a minute, Wick, for he had moved towards the door, would you mind so very much if we should leave New- port? I somehow feel as though I needed' a change. Oh, no, mother, nothing would please me better. You know I hate Newport, so when ever you're ready to go, I am. Very well then. Just as soon as I can arrange it with my lawyer we'll leave here and go to Seaville where I used to live in my girlhood days, before I met your father. III Four years have passed and our little Alda, although only nineteen, is a most beautiful girl and by studying most diligently has, at last, realized her aunt's hopes of being awarded the first diploma in elocution, from St. Rose's. , -Miss Tremont and her niece no longer live at Lorentia, but have moved to Seaville where Alda expects to teach. It is the night before she is to make her first appearance, and as she takes her accustomed place at her aunt's side she asks, Do you remember, aunty, you promised, a long time ago, to tell me the story of your girlhood and of the incident of the eighth of December, on the night before I made my first appearance? Well I'm ready to hear it now and I know you'll keep your promise. g Yes, dear, I shall tell you. Turn the light low and come nearer. It's a long, long story of a school girl's foolishness. I-low often have I regretted that I allowed by temper and passion to rule mel It was twenty-four years ago. I was a Senior at St. Benedict's. Phyllis Doyle, the only daughter of wealthy parents, was my only companion. We thought the world of each other, dear, and had I not been of such a doubting nature perhaps we would today be the best of friends. But fate decreed otherwise, and I by my fiery temper, and quick tongue broke the bonds of friendship. I Why, aunty, I can't imagine you doing anything like that. Hurry please and tell me. Very well, if you promise not to interrupt. From the first day we met, we were excellent friends and one was seldom seen with- out the other. It was nearing Thanksgiving when one morning Mother Superior announced from the study hall that there would be offered a magnificent ruby ring to the girl who wrote the best essay. 'Having some little talent in composition, I vowed I would win, and it was to Phyllis that I confided all my hopes and fears. Finally the day for the writing of the es- says dawned. I never left my room, and at five o'clock handed mine in. I knew it was my best and felt confident of the prize. , 16

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ww . gunz 5 wuz Q mfg g QWIC Q :wif j ,wuz 3 ,wuz 5 ,twig 3 while the boys, Doubting Thomasesf' as usual, refused to believe Alda's statement, that she had won, until Wick should confirm it. Yes, he replied promptly, a gleam of admiration in his clear, honest eyes, I'm com- pelled to admit that Miss Webb won. It's the first time in my life I ever meta girl who could skate without the assistance of at least a dozen props. So if there's a prize, it goes to her and she deserves it, too. Oh, we don't give prizes, replied one of the girls. Well, we will this time, said Wick, remembering the flower he had found, and if you will accept this, he continued, turning to Alda and with mock courtesy offering her the dandelion, We shall extend to you our sincerest congratulations. Half an hour later when Alda entered the house, fearing her aunt had not missed her, she banged the door most forcibly, but the noise did not effect Miss Tremont who was still lost in the reminiscences of her girlhood. Coming to the conclusion that it was kinder not to disturb her aunt's reverie, Alda quietly slipped to her room, and as she removed her coat the dande- lion fell to the floor. She stooped and picked it up, then as if a sudden thought had seized her, carried it to her little book-case and opening a volume of l..owell's poems, laid it softly between the pages to mark the poem, To a Dandelion. H .. In one of the most beautiful residences of Newport, Phyllis Grey, a stately widow sat waiting for the return of her son, who had gone with his uncle to a distant city. At last she heard the well known quick, firm step of her boy. He ran lightly up the steps, opened the door, quickly disposed of his overcoat and hat and then crossing the hall entered his mother's boudoir. where he knew she would be waiting for him. Well, mother mine, he exclaimed as he threw his arms around her, were you anxious about me while I was gone? It seems ages since I saw you last and it has been a whole ten days. Truly, mother dear, there's no place like home. Mrs. Grey gazed fondly into the eyes of the handsome youth, and answered, Yes, dear, I confess that I have been a little anxious but since you are with me again, we'll not discuss that. Suppose you tell me of your trip. Was Uncle Frank's business successful and how did you enjoy yourself? Oh yes, motherl everything turned out just as uncle had hoped. The speculation proved to be greater than he had dreamed, so you see you were right when you said for him to trust to Providence. I'm very glad to hear it, but now tell me what you have been doing all this time? Well, mother, after uncle had transacted his business in Utica we went to a little village in Virginia, named Lorentia to see a friend of his. At the name, l..orentia, Ml'S- GYCY Started and turned VCYY white. Mother dearest, are you ill? cried the startled boy. ' Ne, ne, not in the least, you foolish boy, replied his mother, as she laid her hand caressingly on his head. The name Lorentia simply recalls a dear friend I once had who lived there. And where is she now, mother? ' I don't know, dear, we lost trace of each other after I had left school: but continue with your story, Wick. , I iiwell. when we reached the little town. 1111616 and I went to Ross s. They are charm- U18 People, and that evening Bob, their son, took me with him to the pond. There I met 3 15

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