Farmington High School - Laurel Yearbook (Farmington, ME)

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THE LAUREL 17 couldn't play in the game at least he was going to see it. The doctor said that Tom was going to stay at home, but finally he gave in and Tom was taken to the game. As Tom came into the hall pandemonium broke out in Falmouth's cheering section. A whistle blew. The opposite teams took their places on the floor. The referee began, This game is between the Pocasset School and Falmouth High. Pocasset shooting for the basket on my left. Scorers! Timers! Ready, Falmouth! Ready Pocas- set The game was on. How the minutes fled. How the hall rang with cheers. The timer's whistle blew. First quarter. Score 6-4 in favor of Falmouth. Soon they were playing again. How fast their slim lithe bodies ran following the ball and stopping the passes of their opponents. Another quarter. The game was half over. Score 15-14 in favor of Pocasset. At the end of the third quarter the score was 18-15. Falmouth was falling behind. Pan- demonium reigned in the Falmouth ranks. Tom Moore leaped from his seat. It had been hard for him to keep from leaping before from his seat. It had been hard for him to keep from joining the game, but now he had done it. It didn't matter to him that he was sick and had a sprained wrist. What did matter was that Falmouth was losing and he couldn't sit still and see that. Tom raced to the dressing rooms, donned his basketball togs and raced back again. When he appeared ready to play, it seemed as if the building would fall. Such noise had never been heard in Falmouth before. Tom had his wrist bound and strapped, then the game began. Tom was every- where. He stopped the ball and by brilliant passes across the hall and back he got two baskets. His presence seemed to encourage the Falmouth boys, for they were accus- tomed to play with him. As the time for the timer's whistle drew nearer and nearer, the boys flew faster and faster. It was a race with time. The whistle blew. Each Qu team gathered together and cheered the other. Falmouth won by 19-18. Tom Moore had saved the day. Falmouth had kept its promise and re- ceived the silver cup awarded to the State Champion in basketball. K. Bailey, ,25. Al THE JUDGE'S STORY EACHING the brow of the hill a pleasing sight met my weary eyes. As the steep incline had quite taken my breath, I feasted my eyes on the landscape. I was convalescing in a little town in the vicinity of Cork and the morning being a rare blending of sunshine and capering breeze, I had ventured on a walk through the neighboring countryside. The beauty of the scene before me lay perhaps in its very homeliness. I saw a little cottage of rough plaster, weathered into a soft gray, and a miniature duck pond nearby in which the white birds swam lazily about in the sun. Across the stream was a gnarled ap- ple tree in full bloom, its delicate beauty mirrored in the water below. I might have been gazing at a rare painting, so perfect was every detail. Suddenly, a merry whistle interrupted the tranquil scene and a boy leaped over the garden fence. He was slight of stature and lithe as a fawn. Another boy, apparently older and of a stockier build, followed more sedately. They entered the house and the aroma of dinner floated to my hungry nostrils. As I had wandered too far to re- turn for my noonday meal, I resolved to see the intefior of the little house. It was very plainly furnished. There was no tablecloth on the rough-hewn table on which a little old lady had just placed steaming bowls of porridge. When I had made known my errand, the little woman cordially welcomed me to par- take of their meager fare. Her name, I learned, was Mrs. O'Flarrity. She pre- sented me to her husband, a small, red-

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16 THE LAUREL There stood revealed to them a tall, broad, well built body topped with a fine head and a face that was almost boyish with ex- tremely black deep-set eyes and black hair. It had to be done, he said, it was the only way out. Well, said Doug, always thinking of the other fellow, let 's see what he did to that poor chap in there. I 'm afraid, said the strange inter- loper, that he did not damage him much. Why not? inquired Anthony. Because it 's a dummy, answered their uninvited guest. Now that that is over, who is the dead man and who are you? asked the suspi- cious Brent. First, I'll tell you about myself, was the answer. I'm james Donnovan of the United States Secret Service and that, indicating the dead man, is Horatio Bento, the great natural scientist, who has been missing for the past eight months. While studying the origin of the huge spiders of South Africa, he was bitten by one, which drove him insane with pain and worked on his mind to such an extent that he believed himself one. He would go smashing and spitting through his cell for he had been placed in an insane asylum. He would reach for the warden with those claw-like hands whenever he came to touch him. Day before yesterday, for it 's after two now, he got away and disappeared. I was given the job when the chief of police got your friend's message. I decided that Bento would know that he had not finished you and would return to do so tonight. Therefore I put the dummy in your hall and trusted to luck that because of his in- tense state of insanity, multiplied by his failure to kill you last night, he would not see the difference and he did not. Tonight I thought my plan would fall through be- cause the lights were on and he could see you so I turned them off. Thanks awfully, old man, said Tony. I want you to come up to dinner tomor- row, and I know about the cloth now be- cause there is a hole in your sleeve, and now I am going to try to get some good old-fashioned sleep. Good-night. Harry Huf, 28. ' .l...1l. CHAMPIONS RIDAY was the day of the big game. It was to be between the Falmouth High School and the Pocasset School. The Pocasset School was a well known private school for boys. Pocasset had been the State champion in basketball the year be- fore. This year the High School had deter- mined to win. Each school had won every game it had played and now the day was drawing nearer when the two teams would fight for the final victory in the Falmouth gymnasium. Each team was practicing very hard, especially the High School team. It seemed as the time for the game drew nearer that everything was going against them. Their coach had pneumonia and the best player, Tom Moore besides spraining his wrist was now ill and unable to practice. Friday night, the 13th, came and the Po- casset boys arrived with their cheers and boasts. The game was called at eight o'clock, but at seven the huge gymnasium was almost full and more people came pouring in. Almost all the High School students were already there and the cheer-leader was waving his arms wildly about, the hall fairly shaking with the cheers. Across the hall the cheers were answered by the Pocasset boys who had come with their team. From seven until eight the contest was by cheers, each school trying to outcry the other. Five minutes of eight came and the op- posing team came on the floor and began to shoot for baskets. At a nearby house another battle was raging. Tom Moore declared that if he

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18 THE LAUREL faced man who removed his corn-cob pipe long enough to give me a hearty greeting. The older boy was sent to fetch some corn cake and I was introduced to the fourth member of the family. Sure and this is me lad Tim, said the mother, and a right bright lad he is. Throughout the meal Tim entertained us with a sprightly account of the morning's doings, while his brother, Michael, ate his dinner, scarcely speaking, but it was he who afterward clumsily helped his mother dry the dishes. They refused to take any money for my dinner but would consent to accept a small sum for a few days' lodgings, until I felt strong enough to walk back to town. It was always the same, Michael plodded through the day's work, shouldering, I was forced to believe, more than a full share of the labor, while Tim laughed away work and kept merry. Each night his mother would say: Me Timmy lad, faith an' he keeps me old heart young, the right bright lad he is. Seated under-the fragrant apple tree one evening watching the stars and their reflec- tion in the little streams, breaking the still- ness, the sound of two voices came to my ear. It was Michael and Tim. Tim's voice came eager and impatient: I've got to go, Michael, I can 't stay here any longer, tied to the land and the hoeg you don't mind, you can take care of them, but I 've got to see the world! To live ! But mither 'll miss you, Tim. Yes, mither'll miss me, a trifle sadly, but I'm goin'. Good-by Michael. Good-by Tim. The grief of Mrs. O'Flarrity was hard to witness but she triumphed over it by the confronting thought that some day, Timmy would come back to her, rich and great, for he 's a right bright lad, me Timmy. Bk lk lk lk lk lk Some years later, my health quite recov- ered, I received the honor of being elected district judge in Southern England. The morning was a fine one and a day in court seemed a punishment, but as the first de- fendant was brought in, my interest was aroused. There was something familiar about the slender shoulders which now had a pathetic droop. He lifted his eyes, and at once I knew! Tim! But what a differ- ent Tim. Ragged and haggard from lack of food and sleep, the jaunty look had gone, but a little of the same spirit was still in his eyes. The charge was theft. He pleaded guilty. His story was pitiful enough, no work, no money, no friends. There was nothing to do but sentence himg however, I made his term of imprisonment as short as my conscience would allow. I do not think he recognized me for in my wig and gown I was quite a different figure than in the aged corduroys I had worn ten years ago when he had last seen me. When that term of court had ended, as there was nothing calling me until the next term about a month later I determined to visit the O'Flarritys for the sight of Tim had aroused pleasant memories of the visit of ten years ago. I found the cottage much more comfort- able and kept by Michael's wife, a bustling woman in the late twenties. Mr. O'Flarrity was dead and his wife was still living in the little house, Michael had made her life one of comparative comfort. I, alone, was not at my ease, for I was trying to think of some gentle way to tell them of Tim. For I thought it better that they should know, they who loved him, and would take him back to the farm where lay Tim's only chance of regaining his good name and reputation. Engrossed as I was in these thoughts, my attention was suddenly caught by the words of little old Mrs. O'Flarrity. sg sq rpm 'uuq was elqsnae aux Jeql 1911:-my arp noi Sugmoqs aq mm 'axaq per Iaeqogw pig 'iunugl am Qnoqe Mount noA H now and up with the best of them. You see, sir, Timmy knew the' faith of his old mitherg that 's why he is great, my Timmy.