Dennysville High School - Dentonian Yearbook (Dennysville, ME)

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28 THE GOSSIP ductor looked at me and asked me where I was going. When I told him he just sighed and shook his head. At this queer response I felt cheered: this then must be the typical inhabi- tant of Maine. When we reached the village about midnight, I got oil' the train expect- ing to see a bus or a reasonable fac- simile. To my surprise, I was ap- proached by an exceedingly odd in- dividual. I said, Is this Bayview? Yes! this is a nice view, my friend replied. Noi No! I said, Is this the town called Bayview? We'uns ain't got no town hall. It was burnt down last year or so. Is there something I can do for you? a voice asked. I turned around to find a young man beside me, definitely amused and making no effort to conceal the fact. Is there a bus or something to take me to the hotel? I asked. No, ma'am, he replied. Just ol' Lizzie, my Ford, that is. I was thunderstruck. No bus! I took a deep breath, Where and what are your hotel accommodations? I asked courageously, and are you the chauf- feur? As for the hotel, there isn't any, but you can put up at my Aunt Ag- gie's. She takes all the tourists- Young man, I am not a tourist- I began, And I take people. . . And I take people where they want to go, when there are any, which there usually aren't. This talk was beginning to get on my nerves, so I agreed to go to this person's aunt's. Come on, Uncle Jed, said a blythe companion. The Odd Individual as I had already named him, came over and got into the Ford. I must say he did a better job than I did. Just when I felt that I was mounting most grace- fully to the seat, I had a decidedly sickening sensation. There was a loud RRRRrrrrrrrrip and I felt a cold rush of air. Alas, I had stepped on the hem of my ultra-stylish ensemble, otherwise known as a travelling dress, and had torn a piece, about afoot long in it. Uncle Jed merely said one word, Wimmen . There was no mis- taking the implication what-so-ever. We reached the house and I went in as quickly as possible because of my natural inclination to hide my torn skirt. On the way down I had found out that my humorous companion's name was Hemingway, Larry Hem- ingway. The fact is , he had said. These people aren't my blood rela- tions, I haven't any. We entered the house, it was a traditional Cape Cod cottage furnish- ed neatly, if sparsely. It had a com- fortable lived-in-atmosphere and I literally fell in love with it. Aunt Ag- atha, as she was called, was a red- cheeked, grey-haired, rather plump woman in her early fifties. She had a merry twinkle in her eyes, that came only of long association with ease and contentment. To me she seemed the typical mother, often portrayed in poems. She did not seem to mind that no one had previously forwarned her of an unexpected visit. Why, ma'am, you must be pretty near worn out. Here, let me take your coat-why there's a most terrible rip in your dress-wait'll I fetch a needle, and murmuring she went in search of it. Meanwhile, Larry had picked up my suitcases and was leading the way through a picturesque living-room to

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' ' g . Q.: THE GOSSIP 27 had given Lucky the easy way out. Curly was sent home with Lucky. His parents knew only that there had been an accident in the field that no one could account for. As the discharge papers hadn't come through Lucky was still in the U. S. Army when he died. In the par- lor lay Lucky Del Amico when Curly, Whose Irish heart was filled with sor- row, went in to say his last farewell to a buddy he would never forget. It was November, 1944, and the blue star had turned to gold in the window of those Italians in a little town way down in eastern Maine. Eleanor Leighton '46 41 41 41 if First Honorable Mention A PLEASANT INTERLUDE ' It was a beautiful morning in May when I decided ing vacation in ing that makes live. The birds was a delicious blue, with only some fantastic tdispend my forthcom- Maine. It was a morn- one feel glad to be a- were singing, the sky blanket warmly tinted an occasional cloud in shape, floating lazily across it, this last seeming to enhance its beauty rather than to mar it. The Warmth of the day was of a lovely lazy kind, and the young green grass wassoft and springy to the touch. This was how it looked to me as I stopped by the hedge and called, Ronnie! Oh! Ronnie! Ronnie was our next door neighbor. He was the traditional scape goat of the neighborhood, the family confi- dante and general handyman. His name wasn't Ronnie. It was Ronald S. Camford but everybody called him Ronnie He was about twenty-two or twenty-three years of age, with dark unruly hair that would not stay in place, a vital glowing complexion, and, in contrast to this, he had start- ling blue eyes. He was about six feet tall and had the build of an athlete. If anyone wanted anything, at any time, he asked Ronnie. Ronnie had answered me mean- while. Coming out of the house, he vaulted the boxwood hedge that sepa- ated our property and came swinging up the graveled drive with a free and easy grace that comes only from living out of doors most of one's life. Ronnie, I repeated, a trifle im- patiently. What seems to be the matter, Mi- lady Anne. He was very fond of nicknames. You'll never guess. I'm going to spend my vacation in Maine. What's so wonderful about that? he asked. It's been done before. Where are you going? Kittery, Ban- gor, Portland, Augusta? No, I replied rather hesitatingly, I want to find an out-of-the-way place. I then consulted a map of Maine, which I had taken from my pocket, and found a small town near the sea- coast. I said goodbye to Ronnie, and pro- ceeded to the railway station, where I bought a one-way ticket. Then I came home and ga efed sufficient luggage for a short 'ip iif the gnear future. The day that I picked for my journ- ey can only be described as terrific. The weather report had said, Cool and clear. It was cool all right, but by no means clear. The day started with a slight drizzle, and before we reached the south-western boundary of Maine, it was a downpour. The con-

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, THE GKOSSIP 29 a bedroom at the rear of the house. I was -too tired to notice many details of theroom, and I fear that I fell a- sleep shortly after making prepara- tions for bed. When I awoke, the sun was shining through the windows of the dearest room imaginable. Aunt Agatha, as I called her in my mind, had sewed the dress with neat, precise stitches. It was truly a magnificent job. I got up and went outside, into the sunshine. In the daylight the cottage was ev- en more attractive than I had sup- posed, the night before. It was low, and white and vinecovered, and what was somehow unbelievable, it set on a narrow neck of land putting out into the cold blue Atlantic. From where I stood I could see the waves hurling themselves, ruthlessly against the storm-furrowed, time-worn ledges. Then I heard a voice. You, Ma'am, the sun is up, and look what I have al- ready. I turned to discover my newly ac- quired friend Larry, still wearing a most engaging grin, holding up a large fish. He said he had caught it while tending his lobster pots. In the sunlight, I noticed things a- bout his appearance that had escaped me the night before. He was tall, as tall as Ronnie, but OH! the contrast. Ronnie was dark, Larry was golden. His hair and skin were fair and his eyes were the stormy blue of his be- loved Atlantic. He had a frank, dis- arming grin. Altogether it was a very satisfactory appearance to say the least. h After consuming a superb breakfast of hot rolls, home cured bacon, eggs, doughnuts and coffee, I sat down to write: I F Q Dear Ronnie, I1 Maine has my vote, you should be here, the weather is lovely and so is the fishing. The scenery is superb and the people are all dears. Just 'fix the gutter and never mind the screen door, and Ronnie, don't look for me home- I'll be staying indefinitely-1. Dk Pk Ik ik J ANE'S BRAVERY It was a nice day in late spring when Jane first discovered she was a grown little girl and that she could look after herself. She was walking down her drive- way when she saw a small girl riding by on her tricycle. She was going quite fast and a little dog was running a- long beside her. Then all of a sudden a black cat ran out of a building right in front of the little girl with her tricycle. Of course when the dog saw the cat, he ran after it as all dogs do. They both ran right in front of the little girl. The little girl was so frightened, she coudn't think and didn't have time to stop her tri- cycle. She ran right into them and up- set her tricycle. She got up from the sidewalk and staggered out into the street and fell down. Jane, who was just walking down her driveway, saw all this and rushed down the street in terror. When she got about fifty feet from the little girl, a large fire engine came Jane gir-l's way. roaring down the street. When saw that, she ran to the little side and shoved her out of the She had just got the little girl out of the way when the fire-engine was right on top of them, and she scream- ed with all her might. The driver of the fire-engine put on his brakes, but it was too late for