Emmerich Manual High School - Ivian Yearbook (Indianapolis, IN)

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THE BOOSTER 13 Sure, I accepted, I ' ll be pleased to. During the next hour I really en- joyed myself. Cole was an excellent story teller, and I soon yielded to the charm of his personality. We fairly lived over the old college days, fought class scraps, and celebrated football victories. The ladies listened in speechless amazement; our talk for the most part was Greek to them. They did not think for an instant that we were impolite. They — but what ' s the use. You understand; you ' ve been there yourself. Cole had just finished relating one of his best stories. The ladies were convulsed with laughter, and even the waiter at my elbow, usually solemn- faced, made futile efforts to check his mirth. I myself enjoyed the story im- mensely. As I glanced about to see if our party was attracting undue at- tention, my eye suddenly rested upon a face which caused my blood to leap and throb fiercely through my veins. Seated at that familiar table in the corner was Helen. There could be no mistake; I would have known her among a thousand. She was looking intently at our table. Furthermore, I was the object of her gaze. At first I was at a loss how to account for this. Then the solution dawned upon me, and with it vanished the last lin- gering hope that I had treasured through all the past years. Undoubt- edly she was Cole ' s wife. She had heard of his nightly parties and had followed him. She had — oh, heavens — I suppose that she thoueht I was responsible for his escapades. That explained her fixed gaze at me. I thought rapidly. There was just a chance that she had not recogrnized Cole. I would help him out. I sav- agely kicked Cole ' s foot as it rested under the table. Tell the waiter to bring your hat and cane, I ordered. Then follow me; but whatever you do don ' t turn your head. What ' s wrong with you, man? growled Cole, as he eased his foot. Quick! I commanded. Do as T tell you. Your wife is here. For a second, Cole stared open- mouthed at me. Then he struck the table such a blow that the surprised waiter started back, tipped over a chair, and fell sprawling on the floor. Ha! ha! ha! roared Cole, startling the whole cafe. My wife! Ha! ha! ha! That ' s a good joke. Do you mean to tell me that you didn ' t marry her? I demanded. For some reason, my heart was thumping most painfully. Marry her? Marry who? asked Cole. Then overcome by laughter, he again roared aloud. So she hadn ' t married him after all. Perhaps she hadn ' t married anyone. As this last thought flashed into my mind, I arose from the table, and without a word to the convulsed Cole, made my way down the narrow aisle. The girl saw me coming, and I fancied that I saw her tremble slightly. I sank down in the chair opposite her. How familiar everything seemed! The se- cluded corner, the wicker table, the bowl of sweet-smelling roses, the melody that the orchestra was play- ino and — Helen. The girl spoke first; how common- place her words! Ten years have not altered you much, Walter, she said. Not much, I repeated, trying to speak naturally, nor you either.

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12 THE BOOSTER HER KID-BROTHER vs. CUPID m By Robert G. Barnhill Smith ' s was agog with the usual after-theatre crowd. Here and there I caught glimpses of celebrities: Au- thors, actors, journalists, poets, and musicians. A veritable sea of happy, animated faces gleamed on every side. The fragrance of Hanavas drifted at times across my nostrils, and the tinkle of ice-filled glasses completely banished all thoughts of the swelter- ing streets below. Dress-suited wait- ers, with heaping trays balanced on skillful fingers, scurried along the nar- row aisles between rows of wicker tables. A low hum of many voices, now and then accented by a peal of gay laughter, pervaded the room: above all sounded the mellow tunes of the little Hungarian orchestra in the alcove. I viewed the scene with a rising sense of irritation: I was alone — com- pletely alone in one of the largest cities in the world — New York. Yet, what else could I expect? An ab- sence of ten years from the city of one ' s birth is certainly a sufficient ex- cuse for the failure of old friends to recognize the returned wanderer. Be- sides, I had added weight to my one- time slender figure, and also my mus- tache changed the appearance of my face in no small degree. Then, too, my skin, browned by the sun of Italy, added to my changed appearance. No, I had no just cause for irritation. Friendships are only kept alive by continual companionship. Ten years, however, had marked no change in Smith ' s. The alcove, the balcony with its load of palms, the tables, the paintings, and the quaint old clock at the landing of the stairs vouched mutely for that. Then, too, there was that well-remembered, sol- emn-faced, old head-waiter standing in his accustomed place iust outside of the entrance. When I saw his fa- miliar face, I was almost tempted to throw dignity to the winds, and to seize his hand in a good, old-fash- ioned, American hand-clasp! I glanced toward the secluded cor- ner where our table had been — the one where we — Helen and I — had had so many joyous dinners. It was still there in apparently the same spot. Stranger still, it was not occupied, in spite of the fact that the head-waiter had apologetically turned several cou- ples from the door. The sight of that one deserted table amid the gayety of the garden awakened all the memories that had lain dormant through all the past years. The events following that last after-theatre supper flashed into my mind. Prompted into action be- cause Freddie Cole, a former college chum, had lately been paying marked attention to Helen, I had asked her to be my wife. As my eye rested upon the table in the corner, I imagined that I could again hear her low- pitched, hesitant reply: Tomorrow I shall send you my answer, a telegram if I honor your offer — your ring if I don ' t. I absently fingered the fatal ring that had encircled my finger since that morning ten years ago, and idly won- dered whether she and Cole were happy. A hand fell rudely upon my shoul- der. You old pirate, bawled a voice, where have you been all of these years? I turned and confronted the subject of my meditation — Freddie Cole. I say, continued Cole, you ' re looking fine and — a trifle enviously — you ' ve made quite a name for your- self. I ' ve read your latest book. It ' s a dandy. Thanks, I said dryly, with a ques- tioning glance at his two feminine companions. Their cheeks were a shade too rosy, and their hair a trifle too wavy. Cole wrongly glance. Come and join We ' ll talk over old won ' t mind. I was about to when I suddenly loneliness. Here was someone with whom I could talk. To be sure, un- der other circumstances I would have refused, but — I was lonely. interpreted my us, he invited, times. The ladies refuse abruptly, remembered my

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14 THE BOOSTER Then her eyes grew large as they rested upon the ring I was wearing. W ' h-where did you get that? she gasped. Tell me how you come to be wearing that ring. I answered simply: Because you sent it back. Surely, you remember. Your little brother was the messen- ger. For an instant she gazed wide-eyed at me. Then she suddenly pillowed her head upon her arms. It ' s all a dreadful mistake, came her muffled tones. I see it all now. Oh, how could he do such a thing? How could who do what? I asked, a trifle ambiguously. My brother, came the answer. He evidently overheard our conver- sation that night and thought that it would be a good joke to return the ring to you. He must have taken it when I placed it on the bureau that night. Then you sent the telegram? I asked. For answer, she drew from the bosom of her dress a time-worn yel- low slip. I noticed that the telegram bore the company ' s stamp of Unable to Locate Party. The hour of issue was 10 a. m. Then a great light broke upon my mind. I had left for Europe immediately upon the arrival of the ring at 8 o ' clock. I leaned across the table. Helen, I said, my mind has not changed in the past years. Shall I call a messen- ger boy? For one instant she hesitated. Then — Please be so kind, she said, only make sure that the messenger is not my brother. The History of Girls ' Athletics at M. T. H. S. Up until four years ago, the only athletics indulged in by the girls of our school consisted of the work done in the regular gymnasium classes. With the coming of Miss Slifer, now Mrs. C. vS. Crary, however, came the organization of an athletic association. This was organized lonq: before the present athletic association and was supported by the erirls alone. It had a president, vice-president, and other officers, similar to every other associ- ation. During the first two years of the association, Mary Wynn, of the June ' 13 class, was president. After her graduation from school, Ella Sattin- ger, of the January ' 14 class, was elect- ed president. The constitution of the association read that any girl was eligible to the association, the membership being 10 cents. This membership entitled the member to participate in all athletics through her Senior year. In other words, once a member always a member. Under the auspices of the associa- tion, different forms of athletics were carried on. During the first and sec- ond years of the association, field days were held for the girls at Irwin Field. Although they were laughed at by most of our brothers, they were a suc- cess in every way. The events in both meets were the 50-yard dash, high jump, broad jump, throwing a basketball for distance, relay, and, last, but not least, a three-legged race. This rivaled in fun the tugs-of-war in the boys ' indoor meets. It must be said that the basketball carried on in those days was quite different from the games played by the girls today. The refereeing was done according to girls ' rules, such as are used in most colleges for the girls. Six members constituted a team, each team using a second center. The girls were not allowed an open field, and the games were often rather slow, the girls fighting away cheerfully for half an hour and ending with such enor- mous scores as 3-1 or 5-3. In fact, the games were what boys really ex- pect girls ' games to be. With the coming of Miss Smith, present phy- sical director, came the organization of minor games to teach the inexperi- enced and increase interest in the games. At the present time, the girls still use girls ' rules, but are allowed an on n field. Consequently, the game nlaved now is much more interesting, b th to onlookers and players. The girls get a chance at real hair pulling. R =sid s basketball teams, a walking clnb was organized. This organiza- tion was started in the fall of 1910, and is still in the field, although few hikes have been taken on account of the uncertainty of the weather. The