Farmington High School - Laurel Yearbook (Farmington, ME)

Page 22 text:

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.

Page 21 text:

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-

Page 23 text:

THE LAUREL 19 Michael shook l1is head a little sadly and I knew I could never tell the truth to her. L. Whitcomb, '25. THE TAPS OF DEATH T was a cold, clear night in December. The wind was blowing around my house, rattling blinds, slamming doors, and raising such a howl that I got still further down in my chair, and began to read again. Just then my mother came in and said, Betty, you must go to bedg it is half-past nine now. I knew it was no use to argue, so I got up, laid my book on the table and went out into the hall. The wind was blowing a gale. The blinds rattled more than ever, a door went to with a bang which startled me so that I thought my heart was going to jump into my throat. The stairs were long and winding and although there was a light, there were some dark places which I did not like to pass. I hesitated at the foot of the stairs, getting up my courage. I wanted my mother to go up with me, but did not dare to ask her for fear she would think me a coward, and I was deter- mined not to be an afraid-cat. As I started up, I saw a book lying on the stairs. The name was, The Mystery of the Haunted House. My mother had told me never to read itg this made me Want to all the more so I thought I would take it to bed and read. I held my breath, looked all ways and then ran wildly, glancing behind me as I went, to see if anything had come out of the darkness, for I had a great imagina- tiong but finally I reached my room. Put- ting on the light I made ready for bed. After I got in bed I took the book and started to read it. It seemed to be interest- ing for it was about a mysterious murder and had all sorts of horrible things in it. One part which was rather weird was about a man who rapped on his enemies' windows three times at midnight to warn them of their danger and that he meant to harm them. As I heard my mother coming up the stairs I put the book under my pillow and feigned sleep. She came in, turned off the light and closed the door. I dared not put on the light again, so I laid still and thought about it. I must have fallen asleep for suddenly I was awakened by a loud rap on the window. I sat up in bed, trembling with fright, I wanted to jump up and run, but was para- lyzed with fear. I waited for some timeg my fright al- most left me, when I heard three distant raps on the window. This time I was seized with terrorg who could it be? I thought of the story I had read and slid the bed clothes over my head, not even com-I ing up for air. As I lay there quietly thinking of all the horrible things I had ever heard, there came again, six or seven raps insistently seeming to command me to obey. The wind was still blowing a gale and for the fourth time the raps came one after another in measured time. By this time I was completely covered up and was at the foot of the bed. After a while I heard no more raps, the wind had stopped blowing. In great need of air I popped my head out quickly from the den. I laid awake for an eternity and then finally I fell asleep. ' The next morning as I was going down- stairs, my father and mother came into the hall below talking. What my father said made me jump out of my skin for joy-if such a thing were possible. It was this that he said: I must see about having someone cut that limb off the tree todayg it rapped against the windows until the wind went down. Until then I had forgotten all about the tree which stands just outside my window. L. Barker, '25,