Hanover High School - Hanoverian Yearbook (Hanover, MA)

Page 25 text:

THE HANOVERIAN 23 blankets back and picked up a large doll. Grouchy stared, the lady stared. Then the angry woman burst into a tirade against the stingy old man. The poor fellow had forgotten it was April Fools' day. Helen Graham, '28. THE EXTREME OF FASHION I suppose I really must have a new suit, Professor Dans- berry reluctantly asserted to himself. I don't know how long I have had this one but it's worn almost threadbaref' The Professor, a tall, thin man with gray hair and old fashion spectacles perched back on his somewhat high forehead, sat in a large, roomy chair in the school library. His lap was full of books, the contents of which he had been greedily absorbing. Clothes were something, as his appearance showed, which he regarded as a matter of course, but every so often he decided he must buy something new, and this happened to be one of the days. So he hastily placed his hat on his head and started to town. On his way his mind was so absorbed in the literature which he had been reading that he noticed no one who passed him, even though they spoke to him. Presently, the professor came to a dry-goods store, and went in. One of the clerks amusedly waited on him while he bought a suit of black and white check, with splashes of green and other bright colors, here and there. It was evidently intended for a masquerade. - After searching several minutes for his wallet he finally found it in a pocket of his vest, which was on Wrong side out. He paid the clerk and taking up the bundles which were on the counter prepared to leave, not realizing that he had taken one which belonged to a lady standing near. Professor Dansberry walked back to the school and absent- mindedly donned the contents of the bundles. When he entered the classroom with an armful of books he gazed innocently at each laughing face. But who could blame them for laughing ?-for the professor was wearing the new suit minus collar and necktie and-a green silk petticoat. Laura A. Whiting, '27.

Page 24 text:

22 THE HANOVERIAN FOILED Here! Here! Get out of my yard. How many times must I tell you that I don't want you in here? These words came from an elderly bachelor, who was driving some children out of his yard. This bachelor had always lived alone and as the children said probably always would live alone because he was too grouchy for anyone to live with. No one was allowed in his yard to slay nothing of being allowed in his house. That is why the children called him Grouchy . When the children had been chased away, Grouchy went in and sat down, saying to himself, I really like children sometimes but I just don't know how to treat them. I would let them come in here once in a while but then they would want to be here all of the time and I would have no peace. At this moment the door-bell rang. Those pesky chil- dren again ? thought the bachelor. This time I'll fix them good. He took a pail of water and opened the door. Much to his surprise, however, he saw before him, not the naughty chil- dren, but a large basket. Whatever can be in that basket, he exclaimed, Perhaps those kids are up to their tricks again. I guess I'll let it stay there. With these words he turned, but his curiosity got the best of him so he Went back to look at the basket. It was very large and there were two or three blankets on top. He laid these back, stared in astonishment, then cried ex- citedly, My goodness! It is a baby! However did it get here and whatever shall I do with it? Grouchy finally decided to call up the Children's Home and have someone come after the baby. He stalked to the telephone but suddenly changing his mind he said to himself, I guess I'll keep the baby and have a nurse for it. It might make me feel younger and not so grouchy if I had a little child around. The bachelor went back to the steps and brought the basket in. He heard a smothered laugh behind the hedge. At the same time he heard a baby wailing across the street and he said, Oh dear, I can't have any such noise as that around here. I guess the most sensible thing to do is to send the baby away after all. The Children's Home was called this time and a woman came to the bachelor's house to get the baby. She pulled the

Page 26 text:

24 THE HANOVERIAN A RIDE FOR LIFE I became acquainted this fall with a certain morose young man who called himself Peter Hunt. He had been a student of' the old Technical School Building at Buddle Lake, which burned in the middle of the night during an exceedingly dry fall, three years ago. He himself was snatched from the brink of death by a brave fireman, who seeing him gesticulating madly from a win- dow hurried up his ladder and carried him to safety, but his bosom friend,,John Johnston, was burned to death in the flames. Peter Hunt, who had been a jovial young man before his friend's death, then became a morbid fellow, and often went for long, lonely camping trips into the forest surrounding V mountain, an extinct volcano. He offered to take me along with him as he wanted a witness to the scene of a mystery he hoped to be able to disclose. As I was worn out with a long siege of hard work, I joyfully accepted the opportunity for a vacation. We wandered for three days in a mountainous, forested wilderness, while Peter Hunt was scenting the lay of the land. The fourth day we found ourselves well to the north of V moun- tain, following a tiny stream, which was leading us towards the old volcano. About noon Peter Hunt suddenly decided to pitch camp. We entered a bare spot in the woods, in which were three or four charred tree stumps. He brought out an expensive as- bestos canoe, which was his own peculiar invention. Stopping abruptly in his operations, he asked, Does it seem possible to you that a man can dream of a real place and dream about it so vividly that he can recall even the narrowest details most accurately ? I have never heard so, I replied. But perhaps you had visited the place in childhood and had forgotten ever having seen it. But I did dream of a place which I had really never seen, on that night of the fire three years ago, and only today I have found the scene of my dreams. This is where it all began, right here, where We were camping the day of the big forest fire- What forest lire? There has been no forest fire near V mountain for years. Nevertheless, there was a forest fire here in my dreams. Those charred stumps yonder mark the spot of our camp. Let us go down the river in the canoe, and as We go, I will tell you what happened to us in our terrible ride for life.