Conneaut High School - Tattler Yearbook (Conneaut, OH)

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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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V1CTR0LAS VICTOR RECORDS H. B. KURTZ BRUNSWICK PHONOGRAPHS “Mercy me!” gasped Marie, “Maggy hurt?” “Yes, Maggy fell, replied Patricia. “Now you are going with me down to the (lyin' to practise shooting baskets.” Marie was dazed for a moment and then she cried out, “Me play against St. Clair! Patricia, you are crazy!” “Why, Patricia!” breathed Marie. “I’d love to.” Almost every night Marie and Patricia went to the gym to practise shooting baskets and passing; then Marie practised with the team to perfect herself in team work. Patricia had taught Marie the work of the different players. Finally came the night for the St. Clair game. Marie, who was excited beyond all bounds, would at one moment be wildly rejoicing because she could play with tin team, and at the next despondent because it was her first real game. “Marie, I want to see you before the game tonight,” Patty had said that morning as she took her place at the table. “At seven o’clock, Patty, whispered Marie, who was under the watchful eye of Miss Hale, the Freshman dormitory teacher. At seven o’clock Patricia went down to the Gym where the team was practicing. Taking Marie aside she told her the whole story about how the girls had wished to force her out by snubbing her but much to Patricia’s surprise Marie only laughed and said, “Patty, I knew about that long ago. Mary Kent told me when 1 first started to practice, and Patty, I’m going to make you a gift of the game tonight if possible as a Valentine.” That night the Gym was packed to its capacity and many people were turned away from the door. During Hie first quarter the ball was nearly all the time in the hands of tin St. Clair team but neither side made a basket. At the beginning of the second quarter, Betty got the ball and passed it to the running center who did not see her throw it. Marie clutched at it but il eluded her grasp and rolled along the floor. Vhe center on tin St. Clair team now got it, but, when she passed it, Marie recovered it again and, taking careful aim, shot the only basket made from the floor. During the next half St. Clair fouled four times and Marie,, who had the privilege of shooting the fouls, missed only one, the last one being made just before the last of the last quarter. Never before had St. Clair team been defeated so thoroughly by Miss Blake's School and the members of the team gave the credit to Marie. That night the door of the Sanctuary opened to receive a freshman, the first and the last one to enter it. A throne had been Page Six THE TATTLER

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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