Dexter High School - Signet Yearbook (Dexter, ME)

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THE SIGNET 29 HOW JOYCE WON HER HAPPINESS Oh, to be happy for one whole month at least! groaned Arlene. Oh, I'd rather do anything I wanted to for a month, replied small Doris. Well, what's the difference? If you are doing what you want to, you're happy aren't you? said Arlene pettishly. Not always, answered Joyce, there is a lot --if' Oh, never mind preaching, broke in Ar- lene. If you could do anything you want- ed to what would it be? I'd travel every- where, and see beautiful things. I'd never wash dishes or do any work. What fun it would be! Oh, I'd like to play all the time. Never help mother or anything. Just play, said Doris. Why girls! gentle Joyce was disturbed. Well, what would you do? challenged Arlene. Joyce looked dreamily across the lawn, why, I'd be pleasant to everyone, help sick people, do errands for old people, and 1'd just love to go abroad and study music. The girls were sitting on the porch out- side an open window, one bright, spring day, Ruth Meredith, a girl of sixteen with discontent written on her face, her small, wilful sister, Doris and their cousin, Joyce, whom they envied for her gentleness. Aunt Beth sat just inside the open win- dow, thinking. She was going to Europe in a month, as she always did in the sum- mer. Somehow she hated to go alone this summer. She heard the girls talking. She listened smilingly, then stepped out to the porch. May I help you find happiness for your desired month, girls? she asked. Surely! Yes! Oh fine! chorused the girls. Very well, come to me to-morrow and I will give you directions for finding happi- ness, she said and disappeared. The next morning the girls trooped into Aunt Beth's room. She greeted them affectionately, and passed to each a small slip of paper. They thanked her and went out. Eagerly, the girls opened their slips. Each contained the same directions. Be polite. Be kind to everyone. Do er- rands cheerfully. Keep your temper. Try this for a week. Pass your reports to me at the end of the week. I'm sure you will find happiness. Aunt Beth. Arlene looked wrathful, Doris disappoint- ed, but on Joyce's face was the light of determination. Who could ever do that? snapped Ar. lene, I can't and I'm not going to try. I don't see any happiness in that, said Doris with disgust. Oh, girls, what fun. We'l1 try anyway, said Joyce exultantly. Then followed a week that seemed to be filled with opportunities for the girls. A little bird with a broken wing lay in the path. Arlene ran down the path, saw the bird and kicked it aside into the grass. Joyce came along, picked up the bird, bound his wing, and cared for him until he was able to fly. Grandma wanted some yarn. Would Doris get it? Immediately Doris began to pout. No she wouldn't. She hated to run errands. Along came Joyce, skipped away for the yarn and was back before Doris had stopped pouting. An old tramp limped up to the door and asked for a drink of water. Pm sorry, but I really haven't time to bother, Arlene told him. Joyce gave Ar- lene a pained look and got the water. Aunt Beth wanted someone to help her pack. She asked each of the girls but Joyce was the only one who had time to help. The night came when the reports were to be made out. While Joyce wrote rapidly, Arlene and Doris sat gazing at their pencils. Well, what had they done? Surely they must have done something kind. They thought of numerous hateful acts but not one good one. Again they trooped into Aunt Beth's room. Joyce was the only one to pass in a report. Joy, that's fine, said Aunt Beth, after reading the report. Turning to the other girls she said, I'm disappointed. I thought

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28 THE SIGNET BURIED TREASURE Far away a whistle blew. Dinner time, called John, as he threw down his pick and walked over to where Harry was digging. About two weeks ago, these two boys, John Miller and Harry Burton, had found a small excavation at the foot of a hill, some distance from the small village of Deansville. Naturally they wondered what it wasg whether it was an abandoned mine or a hidden cavern. In fact, in the minds of these two lads ran many wild and exagger- ated thoughts. Boylike they decided to dig down further in order that they might satisfy their curiosity. Anyway, if we don't find any treasure or mines or caverns, this hole will make a peach of a fort, said Harry, likewise throwing down his shovel. The two boys set off across the fields at a great pace to their homes, for the labors of the forenoon had put a keen edge on their naturally good appetite. Harry, on entering his house, discovered his father talking with a strange man. He overheard his father say, Yes, about six years ago, I believe, when it was buried there. Then the reply, which startled him so that he nearly dropped the dozen eggs his mother had given him to carry over to neighbor Bean's, came in a gruff voice. Well, we've got to dig it up, Mr. Burton. You say it's at the foot of the hill on the orchard side. Yes, but I'll help you dig, do you think I'm going to allow you to reap all the bene- fit? All right, laughed the stranger, But when shall we dig? I can't dig until to-morrow afternoon. How will that suit you? Fine, tomorrow afternoon. Good-day, sir. 'Ihe stranger was gone and so were Har- ry's wits. What in the world are they going to dig for? That noon at the dinner table he asked his father what he was going to do, and his father answered, Pm going to dig for treasure, Harry, why? Harry did not answer at first, he was speechless and could only stare. Finally he gulped and merely said, Oh, He quickly finished his dinner and then ran over to Miller's. After giving three short whistles he saw John come tearing out of the house. Hurry John, hurry over to the cave, I'll tell you about it on the way over. Between breaths he told John that he had learned that treasure was buried right where they were digging. Finally, they reached the spot and im- mediately took up their shovels and went to work. Both boys never worked so hard in their lives as they did that afternoon. They toiled without stopping, for several hours. Are you absolutely sure that you know what you are talking about? asked John, incredulously. They buried this treasure confoundedly deep, if there's any treasure here. I'm positive that it's here, assured Harry. Soon they hit something hard. The earth flew thick and fast for a while and soon a mass of bones was unearthed. This ain't treasure, these are nothing but old bones, said John disgustedly. You fool, don't you know that Pirates always put bones over their buried treas- ure? John looked up and was about to speak when he heard voices quite near them. He soon saw Harry's father and a stranger near by. Hey, Harry, whispered John, Here's your old man. 'Ihe boys crouched low and hoped to re- main unseen but their hearts sank when they heard Mr. Burton say, Well, well, look here, it's all dug up for us, and what's that down there in the hole? Well, if it isn't those rascally kids. Thanks boys, for digging these bones up, all that's left of poor old Treasure, once a famous race horse. He continued to the stranger, I guess you can put that pipe through here now without any fear of these bones polluting the water. Robert Eliot '27.

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30 THE SIGNET you'd play my game. Joy wins the prize, I guess. She passed Joyce another slip of paper. The other girls looked over her shoulder as she read. Could it be true? She was to go abroad with Aunt Beth to study her beloved music. That's what the paper said. At her incredulous look Aunt Beth ex- plained. I wanted a companion this year. I guess I'm getting old. I heard your con- versation, and I thought of testing you. I decided to take with me the one who passed in the best report. I'm sorry I can't take all of you. Isn't that just our luck? I guess we paid too much for our selfishness, said Ar- lene as she and Doris walked slowly home. Gardys Woodside '27. A SCENE FROM THE PAINTED DESERT The desert. What does that word convey to our minds? Do we think of the Hopi Indians of Arizona who dwell in their an- cestor's cliffs which form a very beautiful and historical part of the Painted Desert, or are we reminded vaguely of some tale from the Arabian Knights? Do we see vast weary stretches of hot burning sands which rise and fall into rolling dunes, and often become whirling, destructive storms blinding travelers and causing many to lose their way and to perish on the tractless ex- panse, or does the word cause us to view an oasis, the wayfarers' haven of rest and refreshment, because of its green shrub- bery, date palms, and fresh supply of wa- ter ? Do we imagine tall, dusky Arabs silently folding their tents and stealing away in the clear moonlight, or do we be- hold an aged Mohammedan performing his sacred rites with his face turned toward Mecca? Do we glimpse long merchant caravans having numberless camels which wind picturesquely across the purple sage or do we try vainly to solve what the veiled women are thinking? It is quite natural for us to picture the deserts peopled in such a manner. How- ever, there are many times when their solitude remains undisturbed by even the faintest murmur. At such moments, the marvelous colorings of the deserts predomi- nates. Especially is this true of the Paint- ed Desert near the Grand Canyon of Colo- rado. At dawn, as the last star disappears, this whole desert Hames with color. A stain of violet, a dash of emerald, a blaze of ruby, the molten gold of the rising sun! The coppery sand dunes dotted with multicolor- ed cacti add more brilliance to this flood of tropical beauty. The arched dome of the heavens is cloudless. Crimson, gold, green and lavender far-fiung against the sky of a vivid purple hue! Dimly, on the far horizon, the scene is framed by deep pansy- colored mountains. All is loveliness, peace and silence. Such is morning in the Paint- ed Desert! Gradually, the golden disk of the sun ascends higher in the now asure ether. It tints the fantastic waves of sand to a pink- ish amber which makes a fitting background for cacti, of orchid, yellow, green and red shades. An occasional light bluish-green cliff rears abruptly from the levels. So, the day lengthens with an ever-shifting color scheme, each more harmonious than the last. Darkness falls like a velvet curtain. The blackness is intense until, silently one by one in the infinite meadows of heaven, blossom the stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels. Quietly in the far east appears a faint streak of silver, which rises among the other planets. It is the orb of the pale moon casting shadows dark and weird. The mass of color is hidden but new day will bring it forth more dazzling because of temporary concealment. ' Beatrice Titcomb '27,