Hobart Senior High School - Memories Yearbook (Hobart, IN)

Page 16 text:

u HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL. DICK’S SISTER. THERESA G. BUTTS. ELL, I declare, Dick, if you don’t look as if you had read your own funeral oration, I give up. Are you sure you are in the land of the living?” And to be positive himself Robert Sawyer threw his Greek note book at his roommate, who muttered something in an undertone, which convinced Rob that his friend was indeed still mortal as well as disgustingly irritable. ‘‘Ah, ha! so she sent you the mitten, did she?” continued Rob, as he went about the room putting things in order and picking up a dainty worn glove, which evidently had fallen from the letter which Dick was reading. “Poor fellow! Never mind old boy, I met Felton’s two sisters, — they’re splendid girls, — put Clarice way in the shade!” “Robert Sawyer, quit your crazy talk and listen to this letter from home. Yes, I know you thought it was from Miss Heywood, but it don’t happen to be so. Now, I want you to listen until I finish and then tell me whether you are sorry for me or not.” “All right, proceed, I won’t disturb you in the least, but if it’s from the ‘girl you left behind,’ I’ll have to send my sympathies to her, because she needs them more than you do, for she don’t know what she is doing when she turns you down ! ’ ’ ‘‘Oh, come now, Sawyer! Don’t imagine things! Its a letter from mother, listen!” My dear boy: Now, Richard, we have kept something from you for sev- eral months; but seeing you insist on going hunting during the holidays instead of coming home, father and I thought we had best tell you. I scarcely know how to break the news. I’m afraid you will not be pleased, but I know you will not blame us if you know how loneJy we have been for someone about the house to cheer us, the same as you did when you were a youngster. Of course, we do not blame you for spending the vacation in the East traveling with the boys, but that does not comfort us these long winter evenings; so we have adopted the dearest little girl. I know you will love her when you see her. She is just eight years old, has the dearest brown eyes and auburn hair. If you knew what a sweet little sister you had you would postpone your hunting trip and come home.

Page 15 text:

HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL. IS however small, those who have performed every duty, however commonplace it may seem, and have turned each opportunity and each duty into a stepping stone toward success. The farmer works for his own good and at the same time benefits the city and the entire nation. The city also works for its own good, but often the benefits are doubtful. The farmer benefits himself and all the nation by faithful effort and service in a humble station while reaching for a larger sphere. The city may benefit itself and the entire nation by helping the farmer in this struggle for recognition. The city may help to make use of otherwise wasted resources. •Just as the hand must work for the head and the head must work for the hand so must the city and the country work for each other. Such a union can not but produce strength and happiness and lift the nation to a higher plane — a more advanced stage of civilization. Such a union will embody brotherly love between all classes, the contentions and strifes will cease and the nation will be working for the good of every individual. Then we can say with truth that — “We love more the summertime’s roses, The tall, stately timothy’s nod, Than that thing which the brother of Moses Cast molten for Israel’s god.”

Page 17 text:

HIGH SCHOOL ANNUAL. 15 But in case you don t, I wish you would buy her a half dozen gloves the same shade and size as one enclosed, as it is impossible to get them here. Well, if you decide to remain, let us know. Yours, with love from father, and sister, and mother, ELIZABETH A. PRESTON. “Isn’t that enough to make a fellow irritable and say things? Imagine mother and father adopting an eight year old girl to comfort them. Why they are nearly sixty years old. I should think a baby would annoy them instead of comfort them. Auburn hair! That means red. I suppose she has freckles, too! Well,, its up to me to get the gloves I presume. What do you think of it, old chap?” “My dear boy, if I were you I would take the next car down town, get those gloves and the biggest doll I could find for your sister and spend the holidays at home. I should think you would want to see your folks once a year at least!” “But the hunting trip,” weakly protested his roommate, “what will the hoys say?” “What do you care what they say? Come let me help you pack. I wish I had a home to go to. I wouldn’t care for hunting.” “Well, I surrender. Your word is law, old fellow. Why not come home with me?” “Only too glad, Dick,” and soon they were busy packing and then on their way to the little western village which Dick called home. They arrived late at night and found Mr. and Mrs. Preston busily trim- ming a Christmas tree for Eleanor, who was fast asleep upstairs. After greet- ings were exchanged Dick took a large package addressed to his sister and placed it under the tree. The boys were up early next morning, but the other members of the household were already stirring, and when the boys came down the staircase they were greeted with a merry peal of laughter. To their surprise they saw a tall slender girl of apparently eighteen years, with large brown eyes, and a wealth of auburn hair, standing holding a large handsomely dressed doll. When she saw them she ran up to Dick and almost embraced him, while she laughingly said, “It’s the prettiest doll I ever had. Brother Richard.” Explanations were forthcoming and Dick drew his mother’s letter from his pocket and observed that he had read eight instead of eighteen. The holidays flew quickly, and when the boys went back each carried a picture of Eleanor, but Dick needed no picture for ever before him was the sweet smiling vision of his little sister.