Hanover High School - Hanoverian Yearbook (Hanover, MA)

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THE HANOVERIAN 29 HER LESSON ALTHOUGH Mary Andrews had promised her cousin that she would meet her at the May party, she entertained a desire to go to the theatre with Max. What if cousin Florence did reach. the party to find her not present? Couldn't Flo match up with someone else with whom to pass the evening? Surely she would be able to find some suitable excuse in order to explain her ab- sence. Thus ending with a determination to go regardless of' what happened, May threw a silken brown scarf over her shoulders and went for her evening stroll by the calm lake. Friday night came and with it the featured theatre program. Alas! The merriment that May had expected was lacking. The strains of music were inharmonious and skuawky, the actors' tones were coarse and unculturedg the atmosphere was close and suffocating, and never before, had Max appeared so grumpy and unsociable. May uttered a sigh of relief as they left the theatre and started for home. Scarcely had May reached her room when the telephone rang. Lo! the voice that came to her ears was that of cousin Flo. May was so surprised she was unable to speak for a few minutes. After saying hello twice, Flo ran OH into one of her spasms of raving, leaving May more bewildered with every word she said. Yes, you should have been there. You missed worlds of fun. Of course Bob and his clique were thereg the party wouldn': have been complete without them. Ralph's brother was up from Enfield and entertained us in the early part of the evening. I'm very sorry you didn't feel well. Jane told me about it this after- noon so I asked Betty Scott to accompany me. You certainly missed some good time. Cheer up, May, we'll make it right with you sometime. Good-bye. Oh, how May had always envied Betty and then to have Flo keep company with her! Nevertheless, it was her fault. She had learned her lesson so it would never happen again. Elizabeth Snell, '27. ILL USED I want to relate to you a startling little experience I had one evening when I was in a nearby city. I was strolling down a lonely street in the slum district, when I was startled by loud. piercing screams, which seemed to come from the dingy walls of a nearby apartment. I stood motionless: not hearing another sound, turned about and continued my walking. I had not taken three steps when those terrifying wails and groans pierced my heartg Koh! I said, what suffering must be taking place! I went back and stealthily peeked through the low dirty window, from which seemed to come the sounds. What a sight met my eyes! Upon a table lay a lifeless form, one leg of which was torn to pieces, and bending over it was a horrible looking Chinarrfan. Again came those terrible wails and screams, which filled me with horror. I could hardly stand it. But then I shouldn't care for the lifeless form which the laundry man was ironing wasn't my trousers. Ray M. Perry, '27,

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THE HANOVERIAN 31 THE TREASURE QUILT LD Mr. Warren sighed as the auctioneer called for bids on an old morris chair that had belonged to Matilda Ames. Poor Matilda! How she loved to sit and gossip in that old chair. Wonder if that old quilt of her father's room is gone that she used to be so careful about. H-m! She told me a story about that quilt, how it was supposed to bring good luck to anyone- who possessed it. Well, he had had good luck, so had Matilda until illness marred her later years. I need a little good luck myself with only forty-five cents in my pocket. Guess I'll look around a bit. Well, well! If there ain't Matilda's quilt now! The auctioneer held up an old pink quilt, which might have seen one hundred years' service. What'll you give me for this quilt? asked the auctioneer in his most engaging tone. Ten cents ! cried a small voice from the rear of the crowd. Ten cents! Who'll give me fifteen, who'll give me twenty ? Twenty-five cents! cried Mr. Warren in an excited voice. Twenty-five cents. Who'll give me thirty? Come, come! Who'll give me thirty? No one? All right. Once! Twice! Sold to Mr. Cyrus Warren. Cyrus rushed to the front and took the quilt. After paying his twenty-five cents and receiving many playful jests from his friends, he started for his ramshackled old house on the out- skirts of the town, with the quilt under his arm. Several weeks later, Cyrus was sitting by the stove, tearing the quilt to pieces. Upon arising that morning he had thrown the quilt over the foot of his old cot bed, after dressing, he had pulled the quilt from the cot, and in doing so had caught it on a nail. The quilt was torn in a large, three-cornered tear. Cyrus was discouraged. It was useless to try to mend it, so he decided to tear it to pieces and use the inside for nests. While taking out the stitching, he discovered a piece of oil cloth. Now what's that in there for? he said aloud. Mr. Warren continued to take out the stitching. When he finished, he found that the piece of oil cloth was wrapped many times around a sheet of foolscap. Goodness! there is writing on it! exclaimed Mr. Warren, trembling. The man read it, dropped on his knees, and whis- pered, Thank God, luck has come my way at last! The in- scription read as follows: To whomever finds this piece of foolscap: Beneath the Old MacIntosh in McAdams' apple orchard, you will find a buried treasure. If you don't find it the first time, try, try again. Henry John McAdams. Henry McAdams was Matilda's father. When Cyrus realized that it wasn't a dream, he grabbed a spade and rushed out of the house to the old apple orchard. He dug for about an hour, with a moment's rest now and then. Hark! What was that? It sounded like metal striking metal!