Conneaut High School - Tattler Yearbook (Conneaut, OH)

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VICTROLAS VICTOR RECORDS H. B. KURTZ BRUNSWICK PHONOGRAPHS “I’ve been reading the most exciting book. It is called ‘The Mystery of Pie Grove,’ or ‘Who Kidnapped the Millionaire’s Daughter?’ Wouldn’t it be heavenly to be kidnapped?” “You wouldnt think it so ‘heavenly’ if it ’ud happen to you once,” returned Mrs. Perkins as she slammed the door after her. “Poor thing! She is so unromantic!” sighed Eleanor J. “I do think it would be glorious to be kidnapped and then he rescued by a Prince Charming! Oo—oo—oo!” and she clasped her hands in ecstasy. Eleanor Jane was a very pretty girl of about fifteen or sixteen years of age. Her crowning glory was a mop of dark brown, almost black, curls which came nearly to her waist. Her cheeks were a rosy pink; her nose, short and inclined to turn up at the end, was the envy of every girl in Castleton. “I wish I were Lady Diana!” she murmured to herself. “And. oh! how I wish there were an old castle in this village. I don’t think the name Castleton is a bit appropriate, ’cause I don’t believe there ever was a castle or anything like one here. And then, too— gracious! I almost forgot those new strawberries!” Eleanor Jane hurried about, putting things in order, and then seated herself at the table and started to hull the large pan of strawberries. “I do wish mother weren’t so prosaic,” she sighed. Over at Simpson’s grocery store, Mrs. Perkins was also expressing a wish. “If my Eleanor Jane only had a little more good common sense, I’d be glad,” she remarked to Mrs. O’Brien. “Goodness knows she doesn’t get her flighty ideas from me. She must take them from her father. I'm sure I don’t know what will become of her,” said Mrs. Perkins, shaking her head in dismay. “She’ll no doubt turn out all right. Air ye goin’ home now, Mrs. Perkins?” asked Mrs. O’Brien. “ ’Cause if ye air, I’ll he afther goin’ wid ye. ” “Yes, I’m ready to go now.” They walked down the narrow road, gossiping about all the affairs of the village. When their supply of knowledge along that line had been exhausted, they returned to the subject of Eleanor Jane. “Yes!’ declared Mrs. O’Brien, “faith an’ T knew a girl hack in ould Oirland just like her. She was always a ravin’ about castles an’ lovers and sich. Folk all said she’d get a hold of some rich bye and make a swell marriage but indade an’ she isn’t married yet!” “Won’t you come in, Mrs. O’Brien?” said Mrs. Perkins as they neared the latter’s home. “I oughter be afther gittin’ home, hut I guess I’ll just stop in fer a mainute.” Page Eight THE TATTLER

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H. B. KURTZ The HALLMARK Store Quality Jewelry made out of a trunk piled with cushions. Marie sat on this while, they ate the food that Hannah, tin maid, had smuggled up to them. Marie realized that she did not need to fear being put out of Sherri-don Hall for the big five had at last accepted her as one of their group. Marie became shortly after the proud possessor of a gold heart upon which the words are engraved, “Feb. 14, 1920.” Reba Mac Fariand. A TRAGEDY------ALMOST. “El—1—1—e—a—nor Jane! Eleanor, do you hear me? Eleanor Jane!” called Mrs. Perkins again and again. “Where on this blessed earth can that girl he? Probably out roaming in tin orchard pretending to he Diana or may he she is leaning out o' the big apple tree this very minute talking to an imaginary Romeo. Or she may he up in her room reading a dime novel for all I know. But she won’t be there long!” said Mrs. Perkins to herself as she heavily mounted the stairs leading to Eleanor Jane's room. “Eleanor! Eleanor Jane! Be you here?” No answer came in reply to her query. “Great Heavens! Where on earth can that girl be? Ah! ha!” cried Mother Perkins triumphantly, as peeking from beneath the tumbled bed she spied a small stockinged foot. “Eleanor Jane! Come out from under that bed this minute! Hurry, now!” and Mrs. Perkins stamped her foot impatiently. Still there was no response of any kind except a slight shake of the foot. Mother Perkins, now thoroughly enraged, seized Eleanor Jane’s foot and yanked her rebellions daughter from her hiding place. “Oh! Oh! Mother—r—r!” cried the disheveled Eleanor Jane. “Oh! Oh! Now you’ve gone and spoilt it all. I do wish you had at least some imagination! ! !” “Spoilt it? Spoilt what?” demanded her mother. “Why, I was pretending that 1 was spying on Hamlet, and when you pulled me out from under the bed of course I had to yell and Hamlet escaped!” explained Eleanor Jane. “Oh goodness!” sighed Mrs. Perkins. “Now you go right down and hull them strawberries and stop your nonsense. Norv, do you—” “Mother—r—r!” pleaded Eleanor Jane. “Don’t call me'Nory’! It sounds so unromantic!” and Eleanor placed her hands over her ears in dismay. “Unromantic fiddlesticks! You go down stairs and fix them strawberries while 1 go to the store,” ordered Mrs. Perkins. “Mother,” called Eleanor, as Mrs. Perkins went to get her hat, Page Seven

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hallmark—means Quality. H. B. KURTZ “You’ll excuse me just a moment, Mrs. O’Brien, while 1 take my groceries into the kitchen?” “Slmre!” Meantime Mrs. O'Brien amused herself by taking a complete inventory of the parlor furnishings. “Slmre, and I’d tho’t they’d had better curtains than them. They look better from th’ outside. An' my Bible is a great deal better’ll theirs. That chair looks like it moight be kinder—” A piercing shriek interrupted Mrs. O’Brien’s reflections. “Oh! Fur the mercy’s sake, Mrs. Perkins, an what can be the matter wid you?” cried Mrs. O'Brien. “Oh! Oh!” cried Mrs. Perkins. “Eleanor Jane has been murdered or kidnapped. And she was just saying as how she would like to be stolen and now I’m afraid she’s been murdered, too!” And Mrs Perkins fainted as gracefully as one with her surplus avoirdupois could be expected to faint. Mrs. O’Brien rushed into the dining room as fast as she could and what a sight met her eyes! A chair was overturned; strawberries were strewn all over the floor; on the wall was the imprint of a bloody hand with the word “Beware” written beneath it. A short distance away lay an apparently blood stained apron, the property oi the ill-fated Eleanor Jane. Mrs. O’Brien ran screaming from the house and, accompanied by the neighbors whom she met and accosted on the way, proceeded to tin sheriff’s house, leaving Mrs. Perkins to recover as best she might. While the excited group told the story, the sheriff buckled on his revolvers and wrote a brief note to the deputy. “Sounds like a dime novel, declared the sheriff. “Well, it ain’t sir!” cried Mrs. O’Brien, “cause 1 seen it wid my own eyes! ’ ’ “Don’t you think some one ought to tell Miss Carleton?” ventured little Mrs. Jones, nervously. “Begorra! I’ll do that now,” and off ran Mrs. O’Brien to tell the dreadful news to Miss Carleton. Miss Carleton was the village school teacher and a very intimate friend of Eleanor Jane. She was to be married soon to a wealthy New York banker and Eleanor Jane had helped plan her trousseau. “Poor Girlie!” sympathized Mrs. O’Brien. “She will take it hard. It may be afther completely spoilin’ her weddin’!” Miss Carleton lived only a short distance from the sheriff’s office with Mrs. Moore, a widow. Up the steps Mrs. O’Brien hurried, pushed past Mrs. Moore, who opened the door, and rushed up the stairs to Marcia’s room. “Oh! Miss Marcia! Miss Marcia! Little Eleanor Jane Perkins THE TATTLER Page Nine