Ferndale Union High School - Tomahawk Yearbook (Ferndale, CA)

 - Class of 1915

Page 19 of 84

 

Ferndale Union High School - Tomahawk Yearbook (Ferndale, CA) online collection, 1915 Edition, Page 19 of 84
Page 19 of 84



Ferndale Union High School - Tomahawk Yearbook (Ferndale, CA) online collection, 1915 Edition, Page 18
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Page 19 text:

lations were in vain for Bridget was busy and the tramp was peacefully sleeping in the cellar. Miss Hyman, after paying the cabdriver, had come quietly into her home and started for her room. She had just reached the top of the stairs when she heard a noise. She tried to open the door but was surprised to find it locked. Faith and begoura, ye'd bether be lettin' me out. Bridget'll be for wringin' me poor neck if Oi donit get downstairs moighty quick. Miss Luella is comin' home and she is cranky as a cacklin' hen when things ainit ready. Now will ye let me out ? blustered Mike. Miss Luella, still more puzzled at this wild outburst in lVFike's familiar brogue, turned the key and let him out. Oh, Oi beg yer pardon, Miss Luella, but some baste locked me in there when Oi was fer buildin' yer fire, Mike explained. Never mind explaining, Mike, go downstairs and tell Bridget I want my lunch up here. With this bidding Mike started hastily downstairs, wondering what Bridget would say to him for staying away so long. He soon found out, for he met her at the door entering the hall, her arms folded and a look of indignant anger on her face. ' Ye air worse by a whole lot than me husband was, who run away and never come back since. If he iver does come back Oi moight forgive him, bein's there's people so much lazier than he was. Poor Pat, Oi wonder where he can be. He moight have been a good man even if he did go on a toot once in awhile. Bridget's anger had turned to sorrow and sympathy for her long lost hus- band and instead of scolding Mike as she intended she went into the kitchen and prepared a dainty lunch for Miss Luella and then took it to her room. Not until she had come back through the dining room did she notice the untidiness and disorder of the dining room table. Now can ye tell me fwhat's been splatherin' around here and muddlin' things up like that ? she stormed. Mike, air ye the guilty one P Bridget hurried to the kitchen, but not finding Mike there she started outside. Going through the hall she met the tramp, face to face, just as he was coming up through the trapdoor from the cellar. Bridget let out a shriek. Holy Mither, fwhat do yer mane? So yer the one fwhat's been raisin' all this rumpus. Ye locked Mike in Miss Luella's bedroom and ye mussed up the dining- room. Bridget, now more angry than alarmed, grabbed the poor tramp by the arm and towed him into the kitchen. Here she seized the first thing she saw, un- luckily for the tramp it was an iron skillet, and hit him on the head. The tramp fell to the fioor half stunned and as he lay there Bridget knelt down and peered into his face. Imagine her surprise when she recognized this ragged tramp as her husband. When the tramp had recovered his senses sufficiently to know' that something had hit him, he slowly arose and putting his hand to his head took a look at Bridget. ln her he recognized his wife, and then he remembered all. While in a drunken fit he had fallen and bumped his head. His memory had left him and he had gone away and left his wife, Bridget, to care for herself while he had wandered about and lived as a tramp. I5

Page 18 text:

The lung lust leushanh June Meng, ,I7. URRY up, ye lazy, idlin' man. Ye'd bether be gettin' thot work done before Miss Luella gets home. Thus scolding and 55 adding a long list of directions, big robust Bridget put. Mike to work. Their mistress, Miss Luella Hyman had been away visiting for about a month, and today the two faithful servants were making preparations for receiving their mistress ho-me. After placing a luncheon upon the table in the cheery dining room, Bridget had gone to the kitchen in- tent upon making some biscuits, the kind Miss Luella liked so well, when she saw Mike idling and after putting himi to some work, went about her own duties. Bye, yes a lucky man, alright, alright, to find sech a lovable dinner as this here waitin' fer ye. Now jest set yerself down and help yerselff, This came from a ragged-looking tramp, who had come in from a side door and seated him- self at the table set for Miss Luella. He was a forlorn, yet a happy looking tramp, having on an old, torn and faded coat. His hat was minus the brim and a shock of red hair was displayed, matching his great brown freckles. The sole of one shoe was loose and Happed about when he walked, while his toes peeked out through a hole in the other, and one trouser leg was ripped almost to the knee. He looked about the room, then glancing over the table saw the salad. He helped himself to this, wondering what kind of stuff it could be, then filled his pockets with fruit and nuts. After he had eaten some rolls, three slices of ham, and a piece of cake, he went out into the hall, where he examined everything he saw and then went up the stairs. Whist, Oi wonder fwhat's up here. Belave Oi'l1 go in and see fer meselff, So saying the tramp stepped into a pretty little bedroom. Q Soon he heard someone coming. Faith and fwhat can thot be ? he muttered to himself. As if acting by instinct rather than reason he spran be- hind the door while Mike came in to build a tire in the fireplace. While Mike was busily engaged in building the fire, the tramp slid out from behind the door behind him. 9 Then he hurried down the stairs and wandered about until he reached the kitchen. Here he spied Bridget and not caring to arouse any commotion he re- treated into the back hall. The trap door into the cellar was open and the tigamp clambered down the stairs to see what he could find next. He looked about in hopes of finding something to quench his thirst when he ran across a box of bot- tles full of champagne. Tis jest fwhat Oi want! he exclaimed joyfully as he pulled off the top of one and began to drain its' contents. How in the name of the saint himself did thot door iver get locked? It was open when Oi began to fix that fire, be jabers l Poor Mike, he was always getting into trouble. My, he thought, wonlt Bridget Hx me if Oi don't get down there moighty quick. 'lLet me out,', he yelled, Ye spalpeen, Oi say let me out. jest ye wait til Oi get me hands on the bye fwhat didn't know any betterf' Brut all his expostu- I4 '



Page 20 text:

Patrick Casey, fwhat do yer mane? Where have ye been F Bridget was so surprised at seeing her husband that she could think of nothing else to say. Bridget,,' he cried as he began to explain, Oi hardly know fwhat to think meself. Is it really ye, and is it me ? Then he told her as much as he could--how he had lost his memory by a fall and had lived as a tramp, remembering nothing until she had now hit him with the iron skillet. Bridget threw her arms about her ragged husband in an ecstasy of joy. f'0i always knew ye'd come back some day, Pat, me bye, she half sobbed, and Oi always have loved ye in spite of yer faults. But ye'1l promise to be a good and faithful husband now, won't ye ? she added as she kissed him fondly on the forehead. Ui promise, said Pat as he stood on his tiptoes and planted a kiss on his wife's rosy cheek. . xx ' - R ... I N-. . a i: . Elin fllipisnhe Fay West, 'I6. A well known member of our Student Body, who is noted for her absentmind- edness, was visiting New York City for the first time. The snow had been falling steadily all afternoon and was piled high along the sidewalks. Sleighs, horses, autos and street cars were flying in-all directions giving warning with their clank- ing bells, tooting of hideous horns and rattling of lumbering drays to the pedes- trians as they crossed the street on their way to their many destinations. When above all the noise and clamor of the busy New York thoroughfare, rose the shrill whistle of the traffic policeman, the signal for all vehicles to stop, then the shriek of an auto horn, and all was quiet. . This dear little friend of ours in a magnificent long crimson coat, a rich scarf of white fox wrapped around her throat, her little hands in a huge muff, a large picture hat with nodding plumes, was absentmindedly picking her unaccustomed way, dodging a street car here, an auto there, a thundering dray, another ma- chine and yet another, then suddenly stopping and looking dejectedly into a pool of muddy slush, just under the feet of an approaching team. As the crowd gath- ered around this attractive miss from Ferndale Union High, all craning their necks to see what had happened and expecting that something terrible had taken place, what was their surprise to see as they followed the direction of her discon- solate look, her diminutive gold vanity bag. 16

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Ferndale Union High School - Tomahawk Yearbook (Ferndale, CA) online collection, 1910 Edition, Page 1

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