Conneaut High School - Tattler Yearbook (Conneaut, OH)

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C. J. FliEW, The Florist, State St. Phone 9 for him, so imagine his discomfiture when she said, “I’m sure glad to meet you, come across—shake hands and we are friends forever.” He was anything but impressed by the greeting, but he thought that perhaps that was the way one of her standing greeted you—so that you would feel at home. Before leaving Jack had promised her, that he would come the next afternoon and play her a few sets of tennis as she had remarked, that of all things, she sure was wild about tennis. On the vay home Jack realized that he had not been thanked for returning the mesh bag—but then perhaps she—well, yes, she probably did forget—anyway he knew she was glad to get it back. Promptly at two the next afternoon Mr. Jack Wayne, Jr., stepped to the door of Miss Cameron’s home and as Miss Cameron answered the t’ng herself they immediately left for the tennis court. As the court was strange to him she decided that she had better serve first. “Are you ready? Well, I sure got you that time. Again? That was a sticker. Take it from me—I'm some player and it rwill take more than you, Jackie, dear, to show me the game of tennis. Come across—that one was in a mile—no off grounds about that. Well, deuce it then, if you will. What you givin’ us? vour ad? Well, not by a long shot—Whee! You’re stung! Shall we play more? No! All right, just as you say, not as I care,” and she started to. sing in a stagy voice, “Be my little baby Bumble Bee, Buzz around, Buzz around.” Jack had not yet despaired for he thought that good tennis players perhaps talked that way during the game, but uipon reaching the porch she started in again, “By the way, Bo—where did you find my money cart? Right where I hopped into the Taxi, eh? Just what I told Jimmy, me chauffeur. ’Tvvas sure fine in you to bring it to me. I’m glad ! met you—Coming to play tennis tomorrow? Going away? I’ve got you—You'll write me won’t you? Come off—none of that! Sure you’ve got the time and two cents for a stamp once in a while won’t wreck your salary. Oh! I get you all right. Be good—give my love to your mother and little sister, and if you ever hit the burg again give me a lift, and I’ll show you the ins and outs of tennis.” Jack was a disappointed fellow when he reached his room. After hurriedly packing his suit case—and writing a note for his cousin, which he left with the valet, he departed for his home town. As soon as he arrived home, he went to see his friend Betty Durmand. Strangely enough, she seemed good enough for him, even if she did say once in a while— “Ain’t that just too grand?” Some time later—while engaged in reading the newspaper in his new home, he came across an article that read like this: Something Fine. The act at tihe Republic this week is especially good. Miss Rose Cameron is fine in her Bowery Act. You can’t afford to miss this. It’s a treat. At last, Jack Wayne understood. BY RUTH DORMAN, ’14. Prof. Smith asked one of his Bookkeeping pupils to please put away a toy with which he was playing because, he said, “I have to run a nursery at home and I don’t want to have one here, too.”

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s THE TATTLER being convinced that each and everyone was far from his ideal, 'he was only too glad to be allowed the pleasure of making himself known to some girls of “The Elite,” for Jack thought that all girls spending the summer at a summer resort like Hollendale would be especially tine. By the next morning Jack ihad everything in perfect condition for traveling, and after sending a telegram to his cousin, stepped into a “sleeper,” which would carry him to Chicago. Nothing out of the ordinary happened to him during his stay on the train. Arriving at Chicago he easily found the Illinois Central railroad station and after purchasing a few of the late magazines boarded a train on which be wa3 to complete the last ninety miles of his journey. Looking around he noticed immediately that the car contained many people and that at the extreme end of the car a girl sat languidly munching chocolates, while she watched the passing scenery through the smoke.! window. How he wished that he had taken a seat at that end of the car! But as all the seats were now occupied he determined to make the best of it. How iher eyes impressed him! How tastily was she dressed! How appealing iher manner seemed! If fortune would only favor him by having her leave the car also at Hollendale! For once Fortune was friendly, and so Jack decided an interesting time was in store for him, for snub him she could, but meet her, he would.” His cousin met him at the depot, but when Jack inquired from him who the girl was—he answered, lotal stranger. How did you enjoy the trip?” A week passed, and each day Jack caught a glimpse of the girl, but his luck seemed against him, for in no way could he learn her name. One day while walking along one of the main streets, he noticed h s friend of the train, just stepping into a limousine, but before he could say a w'ord, the chauffeur had slammed the door shut, and the car moved silently off. Just then he stepped upon something, and looking down found a small gold mesh bag—set with all colors of clear rich stones. He looked about—and seeing that no one had noticed him he hastily slipped the bag into one of the pockets or his ulster for he was quite sure the bag belonged to the girl. When he reached the home of his cousin he immeliately went to his room and, closing the door, proceeded to go through the contents of the bag—hoping to come across something whioh would throw light upon her name. What? rouge—pencil for eyebrows—book of powder leaves horrors!—Oh! well, if these were what made her so beautiful, he didn’t blame her. At last he found a card upon which he found written in a scrawdy ihand, “Miss Rose Cameron.” In one corner of the carl an address was written, so donning a white serge suit—putting on his dancing pumps and selecting his English derby, he proceeded to hunt up the said address in hopes that it would be the home of his late charmer. After a careful search he found the address, and his ring was answered by a petite maid, who took his card and returning to him said that Miss Cameron would be down directly. It so happened that there was another person also waiting for Miss Rose and as the fellow was a frien l of his cousin’s, Jack had become acquainted with him recently. So the two entered upon an interesting conversation and before Miss Rose made her appearance the fellow had promised Jack he would introduce him to her. When ehe entered the door Jack thought of all girls, she was the one

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10 THE TATTLER [Dedicated to “Ye Seniors When you’re “Tagged out,’’ do rhyme Tho’ts bedraggled every time, Consequence resulting When you waken, be awake, And a dip of winter take, Happiness consulting. When disheartened, never cry, Lavender, if left to lie Sweetens things above it. In the morning shy and sweet. Hope and 'heart each other greet. Murmuring, “we love it!” There’s the time to weave a rhyme, Ford the stream, With the strength to do it. Common tasks of every day Gleam with iridescent ray If we only knew it. “Quoth the raven, nevermore!” Perched above Poe Edgar’s door. On that “midnight dreary”— It was black and lean and lank. Took no stock in Sunny bank, He was “worn and weary.” of C. H. S. and 'presented to the Merry “Tattler.”] not When bedraggled, dry your wit, Then, in restful silence sit With the larger poet, Catch t'he laughter o! “the brook, You can hear it thru his book, And your heart will know it. Leave your lavender to lie Over night, to calmly die As the twilight shadows. With the morrow, be awake. And a course in music take From the birds and meadows. Birds astir to fill and trill, and blush upon the hill. And a song within you. This, the hour to be awake, Give your pose a gentle shake. Sing, “for all that’s in you!” Serious Seniors, juvenate! Early talent consecrate To the best endeavor. Rhyme it, when you feel a thrill Of the pleasure that can fill Hearts with hope forever! RHYMING WITH THE MORNING. »» the mountain climb, Hush Sit with Longfellow awhile. Let the others cast a smile. Find the worth of Cowper On the “Sofa” rest your bones— Give your fears to David Jones On an early “sleeper.” ELIZABETH S. BROWN, Jan. 31, 1913. Gl'ILTY CONSCIENCES. Recently, an awful crime was perpetrated in our midst. Two of our number were commanded to stay for forty minutes, and thereby hangs the tale. The culprits escaped. But—their consciences smote them and they were unable to sleep nights. The thought of how they had not done their duty preyed upon their minds, and they believe in the adage chat “Confession is good for the soul,” so they have written the story of the misdeed and hope that by telling it to others, their consciences may be eased. They hotpe that it will be a lesson to others never to shirk when given forty minutes after 3:10 p. m. This is the confession: “It was a few weeks ago that a fearful thing happened to us. We