Holbrook High School - Echo Yearbook (Holbrook, MA)

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THE ECHO 13 A CHASE After twenty-two years of laughing at life out of gay, joyous eyes and of turning up a small nose at difficulties, Sue Loring was in revolt. She was sick of pounding the keys of a typewriter for twenty-five dollars a week, sick of the street on which she lived, sick of buying things at sales. Ruth Blake had often said, “Don’t be a fool. With your looks and the way you can wear clothes.” But those clear eyes of Sue’s had been too honest. An evening with Tom Boyce or with Jerry Carr had never been measured in terms of how much the theatre tickets and the dinner had cost. She had never dug for what she could get. And now, after twenty-two years, she sud- denly decided she had been a fool, and it was time to wake up and be practical. It was Ruth’s articocratic blue roadster and dresses outside the reach of her purse that decided her. A year ago Ruth had walked out of the office and had married money. “Well,” Sue demanded of herself bluntly, “what was wrong with money?” The question was more than a brilliant inquiry and marked the moment when she definitely decided to become Mrs. Thomas Boyce and went through the mental motions of shutting Jerry Carr out of her life. The day was sticky and humid. Usually, when the office closed at noon on Saturday, she was tired from cleaning up the loose ends of a week’s work. This Saturday had been worse than the average, with a sales conference on in the office and the buzzer on her desk calling insistently. She waited in the glare of a downtown corner and let three crowded buses go past, and then the aristocratic blue roadster slid into the curb. “Hop in,” Ruth called. She hadn’t seen Ruth since her marriage. The windshield was up, and a breeze fanned her cheeks with a grateful coolness. She studied the other girl. “Well?” Ruth demande d, quite sure of her- self. “You look ten years younger,” Sue told her. “Don’t pour syrup on old friends.” Ruth chided. But she was pleased. A traffic light turned red. They halted in a line of cars, and a bus rode to a stop be- side them, its motor sending out waves of heat and the odor of burnt oil. “Ugh!” Ruth made a grimace. “How can people live in that, packed in and stepped on? Oh, I know I used to ride that way twice a day. I couldn’t now. Not again. “You’re spoiled,” Sue said. Ruth agreed. “And how I love it?” she smiled. “Who wouldn’t,” Sue wondered. Even the dress that Ruth wore, inconspicuous and and severely plain, spoke of money. “Has the office been getting big-hearted?” Ruth asked. FOR GOLD “They gave me a two-dollar increase last spring.” At the time it had seemed a windfall; now it was insignificant. They wormed through a congested square. Once free of traffic, the car picked up speed. Sue’s finger touched the glass that covered the instrument board. “What make is it, Ruth? “A Cadillac. So they gave you a two-dol- lar raise? Same old pikers, aren’t they? If they paid you what you’re worth, you could get ' a small car. Ever thought of buying one?” Sue’s nose crinkled. “Can a poor girl,” she demanded, “get one on her looks?” “I got this one,” Ruth said calmly. Traf- fic held them again. “Still stepping around with that Jerry Carr?” “Sometimes.” “After all the advice I gave you? Won’t you ever learn?” This time Sue’s hand caressed the rich upholstery. “I think I have learned.” she said. Ruth let her out at her corner. As Tom Boyce’s wife she could have a car. The street danced with heat, but she found it exciting to speculate about the car she would buy. It would be a Cadillac, of course. Through the screened door at the side of the house she saw her father in the kitchen. His thin gray hair was in disorder, his sleeves were rolled up, and in his rapt eye was the look of fhe amateur tinkering with unaccustomed tools. “Hello, honey.” He fitted a wrench to a nut. “It’s that confounded leak again. Won’t be long.” He raised his voice. “Sue’s home, mother.” There was a step in the hall, and Mrs. Loring came in to the room. It occurred to the girl that she had never seen her mother other than quiet, poised, smiling, and con- tented. “Tired, Sue?” “Sunk, The office went hay-wire today.” She leaned against the door. “Well, Sue, I s uppose you have heard the news,” asked Mrs. Loring, handing her tired daughter the paper. Sue glanced at the paper and then sud- denly staggered to her room. “Is it true? Oh, it can’t be. Why, if it were, she would have told me,” cried Sue. “Ruth and her husband have been sent to prison for the selling of liquor and gambling, also for the murder of a well known lawyer,” murmured Sue. “Mother,” cried Sue, “come quick!” “This can’t be true,” she whispered. “Why I just left Ruth about an hour ago, and she was just as happy as ever.” “Happy as ever. Sue; why she was never happy and never will be,” replied Mrs. Loring. “Ruth has lived a wild life with plenty

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12 THE ECHO that night on a homemade wooden cot, “we can live on rabbit meat for a day or two, then — oh, well, why try to cross a bridge be- fore you come to it.” The next day Bob was in bed with a fever. Many times he tried to get up, but his shoulder pained him, and he became dizzy. Once he reached the cupboard where he had a barrel of water and some salted rabbit meat put away. He brought a pail of water and a little rabbit meat to his bedside. His shoulder pained him, and it felt as if a fire were burning on it. He knew the fever was caused by this wound being infected. Bob knew that Dago could catch live rabbits and get plenty of water from brooks, so he did not worry about him. For two days Bob was delirious, and on the third day when he came to his senses, Dago was by his bedside. Bob tore a page from a book by his bedside and wrote: Dear Pat, I forgive you for what you have done to me and all you have said about me. I am very sick. Will you please come and bring a little food and medicine? If you are afraid to come, send someone. Please! Bob. He tied this note to Dago’s collar and told him to go find Pat. About three hours later Pat came tramp- ing into Bob’s cabin. “Huh! Now I guess I can marry Ellen Joel. I’ll tell her you fell for a California dame and married her for her money. You ain’t got no money, and if you did, you’d never be able to spend it. You’re dying. I caji see death in your face. I ain’t got no money either, but I can steal a little here and there; then I’ll marry Ellen. We have to be back by October. Well, you’ll never be there. You want food; here, take this boot; it‘s full of dirt from the back of ■my cabin.” As he said this, he threw the boot at Bob in bed. Pat left the cabin say- ing, “Good-by. I’m leaving for New York tonight.” Dago went to jump at Pat, but Pat kicked him, and Dago rolled back on the floor. Two days later Bob’s condition was very much improved, and he could walk about the cabin. He started to sweep up the dirt which had fallen out of Pat Moley s boot. “Look!” he cried, pointing at the dirt on the floor, and falling on his knees to examine it more closely, “It is, it’s — it is gold !” Dago, now able to walk for the first time since he was knicked by Pat, barked and understood Bob. Six days later Bob and Dago had dug all the gold from Pat Moley’s place and were on their way home. Rich — they knew they were richer than Pat Moley, and Bob knew Ellen Joel would soon be Mrs. Robert Mason. R. Stanley, ’34. A girl is like a pencil. You should have one of your own and not try to borrow the other fellow’s. SUMNER HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS See all the sweethearts of Sumner High, As arm in arm they pass you by! First, comes Edith Killen, so shy. Leaning on the arm of that Mel Smith guy. Look who’s coming right along here — Marion and Pitts. Well, aren’t they dear? Well, Romance simply fills the air. Aren’t Bob and Grace the loving pair? Helen and Kenneth tag along. Singing together “Love’s old sweet song.” Bill Clooney and Dot Hobart pass us by. Why does Bill give that great, big sigh ? Now Junie comes with his girl, not bad. She’s Carol Coulter of Sumner a grad. Next, Rita and Mullin sidle by. They’re in love; you can tell by the look in each eye. Here is Lucas strolling along; With all those girls he can’t go wrong. Now comes Leslie and Louis Mehl. They’re in love. He thinks she’s swell. Eleanor Hall and Kempton, too. See him gaze into her eyes so blue. Who’s this girl with her beau coming over the hill? Well, I declare, it’s Peggy and Dr. Pill. (We mean Alfred, Peggy dear, fancy see- ing you two here.) And now we have two Freshmen names. Vivian Kemp and little James. We can’t spell your last name, Jimmie dear, But Vivian can, so don’t you fear. There are many more who are awfully cute; But we don’t want on our hands a libel suit. For we’re seeing each lass blush like a rose. We hope we’ve not hurt any one. Come on be a good sport! It’s all in fun! The Gossiper! Miss Megley: Define an adult. Taylor: An adult is a person who has stopped growing on either end and has started to grow in the middle. (Taken from a magazine) Miss Megley: “Chandler, give me a sen- tence using “satiate.” Tabe: “I took Marion Davison on a picnic, and I’ll satiate quite a lot.” Chase: “If a man smashed a clock, could he be accused of killing time?” Whitcomb : “Not if he could prove that the clock struck first.”

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14 THE ECHO of money and g’ood times. You know, dear, that can’t last forever. It all turns out just like that. Her money has gone, her good times, and most of her life.” “Oh, mother, do you think I can help her in any way? Isn’t there something I can do?” pleaded Sue. “No, dear. I’m afraid not,” Mrs. Loring answered quickly. After a long pause Sue straightened up and smiled. “Well, mother, I may as well tell you that I will marry Jerry Carr if he asks me to. You see I was going to give up my position and run off with that wealthy Tom Boyce. I see my mistake now. Mother, and I know how foolish I was to think of such a thing. Going with Ruth and watch- ing her have a good time, plenty of money, and a beautiful car; well, it just made me blue,” explained Sue as she combed her black wavy hair. “I should be thankful I have a friend like Jerry Carr, and a position so I can pay you and Dad back for what you gave me,” pouted Sue. “Jerry has graduated from a clerk in the Home National Bank to the Vice President, and is now building a beautiful home for you, dear,” smiled Mrs. Loring with large expressive eyes as she hugged her daughter and said “Well, how do, Jerry, have you come for Mrs. Carr?” Kathleen Eldridge. A FRIEND “For goodness sakes. Rosy, will you stop that baby’s screeching?” yelled Mrs. Bran- ley from the porch where she was reposing in a lounging chair, reading a magazine, and munching on expensive chocolates. “I’m doing the very best I can, madam,” (Mrs. Branley always required Rose to call her this) answered Rose almost in tears. “Why must she call me that dreadful name when she knows I hate it so?” she sobbed to herself as she rocked the baby back and forth, doing everything in her power to quiet her. This unfortunate lass was a pretty but delicate girl of fourteen years. She had never known the care and love of a mother and believed her father to be lost at sea. But Rose was no squealer and always did her duty, never complained nor fretted over the unfortunate life which was hers. However, nearly every night her pillow would be wet with hot tears, for this young lady wanted to become a great piano player like her dad and was deprived of this privilege by her most disagreeable and selfish mistress. Mrs. Branley had a piano, but she always kept it locked and hid the key, for she detested any kind of music and especially (as she called it) “Rosy’s hammering.” Rose knew where the key was, but she didn’t dare to touch it as she received whippings enough for things that she didn’t do without forcing another on herself. One night, however, when Mrs. Branley had gone out to a meeting. Rose could no longer resist the temptation, and after getting Maureen tucked snugly in bed, she went to her shabby but spotless room, where she unearthed the three cherished pieces given to her by her ever glorious daddy. From thence, she made her way to the attic, and finding the key, proceeded to unlock and dust off the beloved instrument. Next, she seated herself on a wooden box and opened the well-worn sheets of music. Slow- ly but surely she fingered the keys, and when at last she had finished her first piece, she was crying so hard from sheer happiness that she did not at first hear the baby howl- ing. When, however, she did become aware of the fact, another, an d this a more alarm- ing sound, reached her panic-stricken senses. She whirled around to see Mrs. Branley with a dangerous looking whip in her long hand and an expression on her hard, set face that would frighten the bravest of all creatures. Rose cried herself to sleep again that night, “kicking” herself over and over again for having given in to her emotions. She was awakened the next morning by a loud rap on the door, and then a key turning in the old rusty lock. Her mistress, by the way, locked the poor girl in her room each night and unlocked the door at five o’clock sharp each morning as a signal for Rose to get up. “Here is a letter addressed to you. Rosy,” grumbled the selfish old woman as she stood on the threshold and hurled it across the room towards Rose. “Thank you,” replied the latter court- eously as she proceeded to pick it up and open it. “Oh my heavens!” exclaimed our little friend as she read the letter through the first time. Then, not being able to believe her own eyes, she read it a second time pausing for a few seconds on each word so that it might sink in. She even pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, for these were the words she read. 66 Parker Avenue, Paris, France. June 6, 1930. My dear Rose, As your legal guardian, I have at last suc- ceeded in locating you and am coming to you as fast as a boat from France will carry me. I hope you are well. I can’t wait to see you and tell you of the great fortune left to you by your dear departed Dad. A sincere friend, Mr. Anthony Gaston. Hesitantly, Rose put the miracle back into its envelope, still only half realizing its meaning. “What’s it say?” barked Widow Branley sharply.