Dexter High School - Signet Yearbook (Dexter, ME)

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26 THE SIGNET haunt-a cave in fthe woods. Whistling merrily, I final-ly reached the forest and there, directly in my path, lay Sport with a cruel trap on his foot. Leaning over, I touched his still body, only to find it cold and lifeless. Alas! he was dead! Cruel, cruel world-why must it take from me my comrade and play-mate? I burst into tears and lay there weeping, until even the gold- en sun wearied of watching and sank below the purple hills. It was thus that my fa- ther found me with Sport clasped in my arms and wet tears still running down my cheeks. I was sleeping with the heavy sleep -of childhood, while -Sport was sleep- ing, never to Walken again. I well remember the day I took my bro- ther's squirt pistol to sch-ool. When I ar- rived, the little boy sitting across the faisle dared me to 'squirt it at the teacher. And I did! Int struck her squarely in the glass- es, and although it caused much amuse- ment among the children, .poor little Avis was made to st-and in the corner f-or the rest of the forenoon! ll' if all ak 511 It is with a 'sigh that I lay aside the little picture. But soon I smile fhap-pily as I visualize the long span of years, filled full of joys and happiness, which stretch out before me! Avis Titcomb '29. 9' JIMMY AND LOVE Jimmy stood with the note in his hand. Again -and again he read it- My Dearest Jimmy- Please do meet me at th Oaks this after- noon at three o'clock. I shall be waiting on fthe settee by the pond. Your adored Mary. P. S. You will recognize me as I shall wear my white sport costume. ' Jimmy folded the letter, returned it to the envelope, placed it in fhis pocket, and heaving a great sigh of pure bliss, turned and entered the house. At exactly two-fonty-ive he emerged from his home and started toward the Oakes a fifteen minutes walk from his home. Prompstly at three o'clock he 'arrived at t-he park and proceeded toward the bench by the pond where he saw a graceful figure in a white sport costume. He paused to admire her as she sat fac- ing 'the lake unaware of his presence. He liked the saucy tilt of the small white sport hat which covered a mass of curly black hair, that wonderful twist to the black and white scarf, and fthe graceful carriage of the head. Surely 'there was not and could not be a more beautiful person in the world than the one who sat before :him now, his Mary. Creeping up slowly be-hind her he placed his hands 'over her eye-s and whispered softly, Guess wh-o, adored. She stood up, turned and faced him and - Merciful Heaven! he ex-claimed. He fa-ced, not his adored Mary, but an awkward colored girl, who ejacul-ated, Lawdy, Mis- ter, I thought you was Rastusf' Frances Richard '30. GARDENS There are many kinds of gardens. There are those that are tended by expert hor- ticulturists, whose flowers are forced to grow in measured plots, an-d whose trees and hedges are cruelly clipped into all sorts of odd, fantasticsha-pes. There are those in which the blossoms are choked by weeds, for no understanding hand has cared for them. Brut the garden I shall have is nestled between two hills of velvet green. It is an enchanting garden, a cheery nook, where larkspur and phlox bend to the breeze in graceful dance. A generous rose opens her petals to a buzzing bee in search -of honey. Sun flowers and hollyhocks hold fri-endly competition to 'see which will first reach the top of the mo-ss clad wall. The garden races down to the foot of the hill, and is there, most frantically shooed back again, so that the fiorwers are forever nodding hither and thither, bewildered about which way to blow. There is a bird bath in fthe suniest corner, where vain robinls meticulously preefn their feathers, making themselves beautiful for all the flowers to see 1Such a bautiful, peaceful, cheery place-can it be real? Perhaps, some day,-now, it is only my garden of dreams. Pauline Ramsay '29.

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ll . ll al . hlmli If lf, is .i ill. I Doris Hult-chinson, Editor MEMORIES OF CHILDHOOD Hidden -away in a dark closet there is a picture of my-self which I still -preserve as one of the links which binds me to my childhood. 'Once in a while I take it out, and gazing aut it, dream of the days when I was merely a small child. Memories keep crowding into my mind-memories which grow clefarem' as the years fly -by. Mother had left us all :al-one, 'Daddy and me. Although I was a litble -girl wi-th a small appetite, I loved bananas. So, hand in hand, we went down the long, long stairs which led into Dad's general store. 'Cut- ting off a big bunch -of the yellow fruit, we began nto eat. How delicious they tasted! But my .greed got the better of me, and when M-other -arrived home fthat night -she found a very sick girl in bed, with a con- scious-smitten father anxiously waiting on her. Feeling very grown-up in my pink dress, which reached to the top of my high sh-oes, I nodded yes. The little fair-haired boy Ef.f?R 'Ry Orissa Frost, Assistant m-anfully paid .the fare and we sat down together in the fer-ris-wheel. Up and up we went, way up into the heavens un-til it seemed as if we would be kidnapped by a star if we did not come to earth before long. J-ust as we reached the- highest point, the wheel suddenly stopped. The -stars and moon disappeared as if by magic-and it commenced to rain! Big, splashy drops- wetting us through and through. And then, as suddenly as it had commenced, it stopped. The moon, accompanied by the stars, once more appeared, while the wheel 'continued with its customary motion. A trick of the gods had certainly been played upon us! -Sport was my dog-just -a little black and white happy creature. Through the long summer days we rollicked and played in the woods, through the fields and by the lake. And in winter we ploughed together through the thick snow, pals in every sense of the word. 'Missing him one day, I -set out hoping to find him in our favorite

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THE SIGNET 27 THE RACE The sky grows red in the east, the sea seems allgabl-aze. The de-ep voiced 'WhiSt1BS of the tugs sound down the harbor. Every thing along fthe waterfront is in motion. It is dawn in Gloucester. This perhaps will -prove the -most event- ful day of my life. My crew -on the Sleepless and I are to race the yet un- beaten -Sa.ndy .Ho-ok boat Echo o' fthe Mom. Ten o'olo-ck sees two trim little sloo-ps gliding down- the harbor amidst the cheers of fthe crowds. There is the starter's whistle. We com-e about an-d shoot across the line on a flying start. Both boats are abreast. Ah! now I slowly creep past. I am ahead by a length. They set more -sail. Now the distance between us is lessenin-g fast but here is the bouy. I roll the wheel down and the deck is awash as sh-e heels down and pivots around. Now we are be- hind, and on the home stretch. I set my spinmaker, and now We shoot :ahead as if the Echo stood still. Oh! what ia sight to see a -sloo-p with every stitch of canvas spread bearing down. She is coming so fast that I can hear the wind screaming through the rigging in which the -men climb about like monkeys trimming sail. The Echo shoots past like an arrow with the salt spray fiying over her d-eck. Now I am about three lengths behind. -Suddenly with a crash the Echo's rig- ging goes overboard not more than a hun- dred yards from the line and as I shoot past the wreck I see -a bitter -look -of dis-may on the face of her ca-ptain. He had -put up more sail than she could can-y and thus has sacriiiced all in a vain attempt to- win. I shoot 'across the line 'ami-d the cheers of the crowds and have -beauten the world famous .Sandy Hook boat Echo -o' the Mom. Daniel Wakeneld '31, , SUCCESS AND FAILURE 'In a tiny Ithatch-ed cottage 'a b-oy of twelve sat before the one luxury the cottage held, an old and scarred harpsichord, and played. Hour after hour he worked intensely on -exercises and scales. Darkness fell and a tall, large, fair-hiaireld women left her work and crossed to the boy's si-de. You have done well, Franz, She said, smoothing back the tofwsled hair from his damp forehead. Well enough to repay you for your work in- the fields? -He inquired. Yes, rn-any, mamy rti-mes -over. Each night after I hear y-ou play it seems' that I can never work hard enough to give- my -gifted Franz the opportunities he 'should hfave. But come, -1-et 'us hear what the trees are saying to-night. To-gether, M-other and son stood in the -doorway listening to the wind -sighing in the tree tops. They are talking of rain to-night and they say that I can not do my work in the fields vtoemorrowf' said the- practical mo- ther. X Yes, rain. But it is to be a good rain, Mother. It is -going to 'bring me success, it is going to make you proud -of me. To- night the trees -say that 'sometime I will play in Berlin, in Vienna, in 'P-aris, in Lon- don, and sometime, sometime in America, in that big country across fthe sea. They say, Mother, that it will rain all of this and that you will nrever have to work -again. Play it for -me, Franz. Play for me the song the trees sing to-night. Franz improvised and played. He played to -success, to brightly li-ghvted hal-ls, to ex- quisitely dressed wom-en, and to faultlessly groomed men. At the door his mother list- ened and understood. Sometime the world would claim this gifted son, som-eftime he wou-ld leave her. Tears of joy and of sor- row filled her eyes. Across the sea, in -America, in the coun- try Franz hoped 'to visilt sometime, a young man :sat idly dingering the keys of a piano in a .large hall. T-he entertainers had gone, the people had gone, only he was left. He -smiled faintly as he thought -of the eve-ning. Pretty gocld le-ntertainmcinrt, that, he mused, Best I've seen, but just the same, I think I could do a better job at the piano. That pianfistf-not -much time to his play- ing. He struck a few chords then paused and :stared hard alt the piano. If Mother and Dad had lived, -an-d if I didn't have to work so hard fto make both ends meet I