Conneaut High School - Tattler Yearbook (Conneaut, OH)

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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

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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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Hallmark—means Quality. i i H. B. KURTZ lias been complately murdered an------an 1 guess perhaps—they’ve found her remains by now! An' her mother is intirelv overcame, an' Oh—h—h—h! Look!” A fancy Chinese screen had fallen down, disclosing to view the figure of Eleanor Jane, clad in snow white draperies, a filmy white veil hanging over her dark curls. She was very white and her dark blue eyes shone bri ght. “Oh! screamed Mrs. O’Brien. “Begorra, an’ 'tis the ghost of Eleanor Jane hersilf! The Saints preserve our souls!” Blindly she turned and tied, leaving Marcia and tlie “ghost” convulsed with laughter. ‘A ou must hurry home. Don’t wait to change your dress. Your mother must be badly frightened.” Picking up her filmy draperies, 1 lie “ghost” ran swiftly after Mrs. O’Brien. “I know,” thought Eleanor, “I'll take a short cut through the orchard.” Nearing the house she saw Mrs. O’Brien just entering the door. Bursting into the kitchen, she confronted the assembled company, which was hardly able to believe the evidence of its senses. Nory Jane!” cried Mrs. Perkins, rushing up to her. “Is it really you? Ain t you been murdered or kidnapped or nothing?” “'Why, no, of course not, mother.” M ell, indade, if you was my girl, I d make you give an account of yourself right here afore everybody,” declared Mrs. O’Brien. A es, agreed Mrs. Perkins, “you do that very thing. Set right there an tell us where you’ve been and where on eartli you got that riggin! My! what a start you’ve given me!” ‘AN ell, drawled Eleanor Jane, as she settled herself in a more comfortable position, “you know, mother, you left me hullin’ those strawberries when you went to the store. Well—while I was hullin’ strawberries, the phone rang. As I jumped up to answer it, my foot caught in a chair and upset it, spilling the berries all over the floor. I didn’t stop to pick ’em up because I thought it might be Wallie. But it wasn t—it was Miss Carleton, calling up to say her wedding dress had just come and she wanted me to come over and see it. So i took off my apron and went. 1 tried on her dress and Oh—h! I looked beautiful in it—all white satin an' everythin’! I’ll bet I looked just like Juliet. An' I was just goin’ to take it off when we heard someone at the door an’ Miss Carleton said I better get behind the screen because it might be the grocery boy. The screen was so wobbly that I had to hold my breath for fear it would Page Ten THE TATTLER