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Page 17 text:
IScr (graduation Hrraa
Esther Gee, ’23.
Mary, the daughter of Jacob Murry, lived in Thortonville, a small town in New York State. Her mother died when she was born and she had lived with her father in a small house in that town ever since.
At the time this story opened Mary was a girl of 18 years of age. She was to graduate that spring in the high school at Thortonville. She had worked hard to go to school, because they were poor and her father had to work every day, so as to get enough money to let her go to school and to keep the two in clothes and enough to eat.
The time was drawing near for Mary to graduate. When she thought it over, (she was worried because she didn't have any new dress and she knew her father couldn’t afford to buy her any.
The following weeks that Mary went to school were sad ones for her. She heard all the other girls talking about the dresses they were going to buy. Some were going to get crepe de chines, some Georgette, some satins and many other kinds. Mary knew she couldn’t afford to get any of these. She did not want to go in her last summer’s dress, which was white lawn, because it had been washed many times and was hardly fit to wear to a commencement.
When Mary had first started in at high school she met a boy who was in her class whose name was Jack Tal-madge. He was a very rich boy and all the girls were crazy over him. He was polite and manly and liked all the girls, but as soon as he had seen Mary with her dark brown curls and blue eyes he decided that he liked her best of all.
As the time was drawing near commencement time Jack saw that something was troubling Mary. So the night
[ before commencement he asked her if he could take her home the next night. She hesitated, but finally said “No,” because she told him she was not coming. He asked her why, but she only said she didn’t want to go. But Jack guessed what was keeping her away from it.
Jack’s sister Isabelle, a girl the same | age as Mary, had died the summer before. She had been invited to a party and had bought a new party dress of 1 pink crepe de chine. She never wore the dress because before the party came she took diphtheria and died. No one had seen the dress but the Talmadge family, so Jack decided to ask hi'i mother if he could have the dress to I give to Mary. Mrs. Talmadge was a 1 kind-hearted motherly woman. She did not like to part with her daughter’s dress, but as she knew that it would make Mary happy, she told Jack he could have it.
That same night Jack found a box and put the dress in it and took it to Mary’s house. He put it on the porch and then knocked on the door and hid behind a lilac bush. Mary came to the door, but only saw a large white box on the porch. She took it into the house and opened it. There was a note inside of it which read:
“Please accept this gift from a friend who will never tell from whom it was sent.” Mary was delighted and after consulting her father she decided to Tceep it.
She went to the commencement the next night and Jack took her home. In after years when she graduated from college she wore the pretty pink dress.
I although she never knew from where I it came.
Page 16 text:
Basketball (3). Class play. Commercial. Captain of basketball.
“Sister,” she’ll be to all of them, and loving, fickle a bit true,
Rather inclined round her fingers to wind, say, a dozen or two.
Class play. Classical.
My tongue within my lips I reign,
For who talks much, must talk in vain.
Page 18 text:
“We shall now,” she said, “have a reg- i ular supply of cheese.”
“Has Biggs got it at last?” I asked in amazement. Biggs is our grocer; that is to say, he is the man who always has what we don’t want.
“We shall be independent of Biggs,” she assured me. “I am going to make our own cheese from goat’s milk.” “Where are you going to get the milk ?”
“From our goat, of course.”
“But—” I commenced feebly.
She waved me to silence. “Oh, yes; we have!” she said. “I bought it this morning and it’s coming tomorrow. I felt I must do some war work”
“Where are you going to keep it?”
I ventured to ask.
“In the garden, of course, stupid,” she said.
“I strolled to the window and surveyed the proposed home of the goat. I had seen the garden before; but it was easily forgotten. Knowing nothing of goats, I could not say definitely that it would be satisfied. The lawn was smooth, and plainly visible to anyone not standing upon it. The flowers, too. were nice; there seemed to be one of each, and a fern.
“You see,” she said; “we shall just tie it to the tree, and—and that’s all.” “But do you know how to make cheese?” I inquired.
She waved a slim volume at me. “I have learned this by heart,” she said. “It tells you everything.”
As I handed back the book there came a rattle and a thump at the door. Impulsively she ran to open it.
“The cheesemaking outfit I ordered,” she explained.
On the step I saw what appeared to be a staggering mass of earthen and enamel ware of all shapes and sizes. By dint of hard staring I made out the cap and boots of the boy behind it. When he handed me the bill I stared harder still. She cooed gently of unlimited cheese, while I paid the bill.
When I reached home the next day the goat was in full possession of the garden, but showed no signs of being unduly puffed up about it. It sat by the tree to which it was tied, gazing at the lawn and giving vent to an occasional laugh. It was a sardonic-looking animal. and its name was Juliet.
“Have you milked it?” I asked.
Her reply was vague. “I don’t think it’s been used to a woman’s milking it. so I left it for you,” she said. “I’ve got everything ready for the cheese, and here is a milking pail.”
I sought out Juliet, who rose and bowed. I came closer and she bowed lower still. I thought her a polite goat. Then I put my hand upon her and my idea of her manners changed. She came forward somewhat abruptly, and. fearing to startle her, I stepped backward ; she did likewise, and I advanced again. We repeated the movement.
“What’s it to be—a waltz or a polka?” said my neighbor’s voice from across the fence. Juliet laughed outright. But she was a goat with decided view, and she assured me by the variety of means at her command that I did not fall in with her idea of Romeo.
I returned to the house to find her waiting among the cheese outfit. It took up most of the kitchen. She held out eager hands for the pail.
I explained the situation. “She is not used to us yet,” I said, “and I thought that it would be unkind to milk her by force.”
The next morning we awoke to find that Juliet had broken loose. However, she was still there, and so was the garden, only most of it seemed to have gotten into the goat. I retethered the cheese-provider and during the next few days Juliet and I had several interviews, but we seemed fated to remain strangers. Juliet knew an infinite variety of steps, and my neighbor—who alone seemed to derive any pleasure from the interviews—said she ought to be a ballet goat.
On the evening of the third day she remembered Jones, who is great on goats; in fact, he has recently written a popular pamphlet on them for distribution by some department or other. I hunted up Jones, who strolled ba k with me while I explained the situation “Goat, eh?” he said. “Good investment nowadays. The milk makes fine cheese.”
I took him into the remains of the garden and introduced him to Juliet, who received him with signs of respect.
“Now,” I said, “tell me if there is any reason why I shouldn’t milk that goat.”
Jones looked at the goat and then at me. “None whatever.” he said “except, of course, that it’s a he-goat.” f.S.- -----
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