Fairhaven High School - Huttlestonian Yearbook (Fairhaven, MA)

Page 29 text:

THE HUTTLESTONI AN 27 A crisp wintry breeze toyed playfully with the thick black hair of Mrs. Jeanine Dalton, as she walked with graceful strides towards her home. She was a tall, well-built woman about fifty years of age, with delicate but well defined features. Her limpid grey eyes had a meditative look. The atmos¬ phere is strange today”, she thought. I feel as if something were going to happen. But no, nothing ever happens here. I am content though. I have a fine son, a good home, and kind friends. Life has not been so hard with me.” She let her gaze wander dreamily along the high stone wall that sur¬ rounded her house. James, his eyes shining with excitement, was waiting on the veranda for her. “Mother!” he cried. I’m so darn glad you’ve come. Honestly, I don’t know what we fellows would do without our mothers.” He gave her an affectionate hug. Kindly stop the Galahad attitude, and tell me what has prompted this sudden flow of compliments,” said his mother in mock severity. Well, to begin at the beginning. There is a new chap down at the office, a Frenchman everyone calls Le Pere.” He’s a sort of critic on writing. Just staying here tem¬ porarily; wanted to get away from the big city. Anyway, he saw that short story I’d been working on and thought it was pretty good. Says I have great possibilities. He told me to stick to writing as if it were a Siamese twin. Oh, Mom, I’m so happy!” I always knew you’d make something of yourself”, said Mrs. Dalton, a lump of pride coming to her throat. That’s not all. I invited him to dine with us tonight. Sort of lonely here for him, not knowing anybody. It’s all right, isn’t it?” James glanced at his mother’s face. Of course”, she answered. I’m always glad to meet a friend of yours. I’ll see that we have something special for our guest tonight.” The dinner was a success in every way, for Le Pere proved to be a most delightful person. It was, perhaps, due to his

Page 28 text:

23 THE HUTTLESTONIAN Frenchmen Do Not Cry T was a warm spring day in the year 1893, and the small village of Cogeac was bubbling over with excitement. Many leading citizens of the district were leaving for AMERICA — the land of hope and success. However, it was a sad day for Paul Lecour and his sister Jeanine. They sat down unhappily on the steps of the orphanage. Paul took the girl’s hand in his. Don’t cry, Jeanine — everything will be all right. America is not far away. They say it is beautiful there — no pain, no hunger. And, Uncle Charles is very kind. I know he’ll try to make you happy. It is not his fault he can take only one of us. But it’s going to be so lonely here without you.” Paul Lecour was very manly for his nine years, but he could not hold back the tears which forced themselves to his eyes. Oh, Jeanine!” he said, brokenly. Come now, you must not act like this,” remonstrated a kindly voice, Frenchmen do not cry!” Yes, Uncle Charles”, answered Paul, “Frenchmen do not cry.” And he hastily wiped away two large tears that were trickling down his cheek. You know, m’boy, things like this come in every man’s life — sacrifices to make others happy. You want Jeanine to be happy, don’t you? Of course. But there is no future for her if she stays here. You are a boy and will soon be able to take care of yourself. But your sister needs comfort and protection. Now do you understand, Paul?” Uncle Charles put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. You’d better say good¬ bye now. We must depart soon. He walked quickly down the steps to the stage-coach. Goodbye, my brother,” whispered Jeanine as she placed her soft lips against her brother’s cheek. Goodbye, Jeanine. Remember what papa used to say, ' Over the dark hill the sun is shining!’ I will see you again, soon.” a is

Page 30 text:

28 THE HUTTLESTONIAN congenial manner, typical of his race, or the way his smile lit up his handsome face, even making his alert, brown eyes crinkle at the corners. At any rate, Mrs. Dalton found a soft spot in her heart for him. Looking at his broad, reas¬ suring shoulders, she remembered how much she missed John, and the long years she had been without her husband’s staunch partnership. She gazed at her guest from beneath lowered lids. What a fine man he is! I seem to know him well, even though we just met.” Le Pere was thinking, ’ ' I like that woman. She is real and sincere.” The dinner was finished in a leisurely fashion, and they retired to the long low-ceilinged living room. A cheery blaze from the fireplace lent its warm glow throughout the room. .£ • i 3 ] 1165 exc y se himself, saying he would return after he finished a special assignment. The other two discussed cur¬ rent topics pleasantly for half an hour or so, when the shrill blast of a fire whistle sounded nearby. Le Peie leaned his head back on the soft cushioned chair and smiled reminiscently. ' You know, I remember as a young¬ ster the manner in which a fire was announced where I lived. In the center of the village was an enormous steel ring, which was struck with a club, whenever a fire broke out. Rather a novel idea!” rs - Dalton sat up rigidly. That’s odd”, she said; they did that where I came from, too. Where did you say this was?” Cogeac, France.” Cogeac! She leaned forward with eager interest. May I be so bold as to inquire your real name?” Certainly. Paul Lecour.” Mrs. Dalton’s eyes snapped wide open. Le Pere Paul! —No, No, It could not be! And yet — was it too much to hope? Mr. Lecour, did you once have a sister?” she asked. •i ecour S ance d at her curiously for a moment, and then said, Yes, but she came to this country long ago. That is