Conneaut High School - Tattler Yearbook (Conneaut, OH)

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THE TATTLER 4 had left, she rose and wently deliberately up to Allison McKenzie’s room, where she knocked and waited. “Who’s there?” came a muffled voice from within. “It’s Florence Clavering,” replied Florence pleasantly, whereupon the door flew open, showing Allison standing with disheveled hair and a tear- stained, sullen face. “I suppose,” she began abruptly, “that I ought to have thanked you for saving my life; but I was so upset—anl I’m all tired out anyway—but, of course,” she added stiffly, “I’m very much obliged to you—” she paused, still holding the door wide open. “Mayn’t I come in please, and see if 1 can’t make you more comfortable?” inquired Florence kindly; for Allison’s face and dress showed the marks of her hard scramble. “Yes, if you like,” returned Allison ungraciously, eyeing the trim little figure rather shamefacedly. “I was too tired to do anything but just dump myself on the bed,” she continued, with a trace of apology in her tones. Florence did not reply immediately, but gently combed out the matted hair. Finally she said, rather abruptly, “I learned to ride while I was a ery small girl. We all ride where I came from, but here, one very seldom sees anything but carriages and automobiles, and somehow—I don’t care for them.” “You didn’t seem to me like a girl that would ride horseback, but rather ” she caught herself up, but Florence finished the sentence for her. “Rather old fashioned? Well, yes, perhaps I am, but the girls here are so different that—well, I feel sort of out of things, you know.’’ There was a litle pause broken by Allison. “I’ve a horrid temper,” she said, suddenly, “and Florence, I’ve been mean to you, as mean as can be. But I feel miserable now; oh! can you ever forgive me?” “Why, Allison! I haven't anything to forgive,” said Florence, as she bent over the weeping girl. “Now stop crying and don’t think anything about it.” Just then, Gertrude appeared in the doorway but stopped in consternation, as she saw Florence. Soon, however, matters were explained and the three spent a pleasant evening together. As they were departing, Florence called back cheerily, “Good night, A'lison; remember the old adage,—‘All’s well that ends well.” MABELLE BROWN, ’14. THE SUFFRAGETTE IN A NEW ROLE. It was much the same kind of group that is found every day in the cars in any railroad train, a gathering of nearly every type of people that makes up our country. Perhaps, however, the assembly in the Pullman car, Maneval, was more mixed than usual on that November day. When the Trans-Continental Limited left New' York there were twelve occupants of the car besides the porter and conductor. Each person had boarded the

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C. J. FREW, The Florist, State St, Phone 3 Florence nodded comprehendingly, and Gertrude hurried on. “I think you might have treated Florence Clavering a little more politely, Allison,” she said reprovingly. ‘‘She seems like a ratiher nice girl, after all.” “Nice!” retorted Allison, with a sneer. “Teacher’s pet. That's her style. I’d like to see her on horseback, though. A steady old horse about thirty years old, with an easy canter in place of a trot; best pace, about five miles an hour—that’s the sort of an animal she rides, or I miss my guess. Probablyl has a groom at her bridle rein when she’s at home, but that sort of thing won’t do at boarding school.” Gertrude made no reply and the two trudged on silently. The air was sultry. Great masses of clouds heaped themselves in the west, while the sun was scorching hot overhead. Allison was out of temper and her playing showed it. “Don’t you think you had better be a little bit more careful, Allison?” queried Gertrude. “You’ve broken two golf sticks already. “It’s too hot for golf today, anyway, growled Allison. This place is half a swamp—but listen! what’s that?” “Thunder,” replied her companion listlessly. “But it’s pretty distant, so let’s finish our game.” Allison tried again, and again broke a golf stick. “Well, I never—but look coming down the road. The new girl is (oming full tilt: must be her horse ihas bolted.” Allison stared at the on-coming rider, when—the horse was suddenly checked and a warning hand was flung up. “Get on to the higher land—quick!” cried Florence. “The dam is broken; I must warn the others. Horse and rider passed like a flash, galloping down the road. The two golfers sped up t)he hillside; they slipped on the wet grass and stumbled over stones, while the deep roar was steadily increasing in volume behind them. At last they gained the crest of the hill and stood looking down into the valley, that wa6 now filled with whirling water, in which trees, logs and wreckage were tossing to and fro.” “Do you think she—Florence, has esca] ed, Gertie?” queried Allison in constrained tones. “I don’t know,” curtly rejoined Gertrude as she went on, with Allison following in her wake, pensive and unusually quiet. It was a very uncomfortable pair that finally appeared at the academy. “O, Allison!” cried Gertrude, as they approached the piazza. “There’s Florence; she’s safe. How she must have ridden. I call her a brave girl.” “All she had to do was to stick on the horse,” replied Allison snappishly. “You needn’t be bothering me with heroics, I’m about used up.” So saying, she ran upstairs and slammed her door so hard that it resounded through the entire corridor. Gertrude lingered for a few moments on the piazza and then, she too, went to her room. Florence sat for a while replying politely to the congratulations of the girls, on her plucky ride and narrow escape; but when the excited girls

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C. J. FREW, The Florist, State St. Phone a train in his own characteristic manner, the men had glanced with indifference over the other passengers and then become absorbed in their newspapers, but the women,—there were seven of them—had, as is characteristic of a woman, each mentally taken, in one glance, a hasty invoice of the other travelers and labeled each in his distinctive class by criticising his clothes and actions. There was a Haughty Lady in Furs who demanded most of the porter’s time with her inquiries and in the section across the aisle sat a Stout-Lady-in-a-Black-Silk-Dress. She smiled amiably and impartially upon all the travelers and seemed to be enjoying herself to the utmost. Beside her was a young girl with a .high, fluffy pompadour who was busily engaged chewing gum when not commenting to her mother upon things in general. At one end of the car, two Commercial Travelers were volubly talking politics; in front of the Haughtv-Lady was a small man wearing huge gold rimmed spectacles which gave the impression that the man would have escaped one's notice entirely had it not been for these. The other passengers were a Shy Young Lady; a Bald-Headed gentleman with whiskers; a dapper young Frenchman who could not make the porter understand what he wished to have him do; a woman with a little boy who asked innumerable questions and a College Girl. The trip from New York to Chicago was uneventful only that, as always after the first few hours of traveling with strangers, everyone began to wonder where everyone else was going and the women began to make slight advances toward conversation. For what i6 harder for a woman than to be in company of other women and not talk? By the time the train reached Omaha, everybody knew that the Lady-in-the-Black-Silk-Dress and the Girl-with-the-Pompadour were going to California to spend the winter with the former's brother who had, to use her own pihrase, “struck it rich in the oil-fields” and who had sent them the money to come. The Mother confided to the College Girl that her brother had said to be sure and travel in a Pullman, and as they had never ridden in one before, they were having “more fun than a circus.” The Girl-with-the-Pompadour also remarked that she would “just love to marry a train official” so that she could travel all the time. The College Girl had made several attempts at conversation with the Shy-Young-Lady while the Haughty-Lady with the Furs had unbent enough to say that she considered the train service unbearable and termed the porter most unobliging. The gentleman with spectacles entered into a political discussion with ike rra eling men, and the Bald-Headed-Man whiled away the time playing solitaire. Only the Young Frenchman remained an unknown quantity as his English vocabulary was too limited to permit of much talking. So, by the time Omaha was reached the passengers had advanced to that state of friendship peculiar to train associations, and here a diversion was caused. The porter, carrying a iheavy bag. came briskly down the aisle followed by a tall woman. The newcomer was dressed in a plain tailored suit and hat, and possessed a business-like manner that caused all of the occupants of the car to take a sudden interest in her.