Houtzdale High School - Jack O Lantern Yearbook (Houtzdale, PA)

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L V, THE JACK 0' LANTERN gg gg - The next morning Anita appeared as usual. Mrs. Weston did not say a word- about the happenings of the night. Instead she telephoned a detective agency and hired the best detective they had. The detective was a tall, heavy set man, with a black moustache and eyes that seemed to read your very thoughts. He stayed at thc house as a visitor, supposedly an old friend of Mrs. Weston's. Anita's actions were explained to him and he watched her closely but he could not find anything out by her actions. The first two nights he was there nothing was heard. The third night, however, just at the last stroke of the clock at midnight, as usual the screams were heard. The detective listened, thought a minute and then rang for Anita. He rang several times but she did not come. He went up to her room, opened the door, and what he saw there made him gasp in surprise. There on the floor lay Anita, a great stream of blood on the carpet where she lay. Someone had stabbed her. But who? Did this have anything to do with the screams? No, they had been heard for some time previously. He went over to her, listened to her heart and found that it was still beatinglslowly. He raised her up and she opened her eyes with a great effort. Then in a voice almost too low to be heard she said, UP --in - attic - gave - slow - poison - to - avenge-, then her head fell back and she became silent. She can't die now, said the detective, or this will be a .mystery unsolved. He waited a few moments. Slowly her eyes opened again and she said, her voice still weaker, To - avenge - my - father - I got - him - here - kept - him - prisoner - in - attic - screams - were - from - pains - caused - by - slow - poison. Again her eyes were closed. Try to talk just a little more, he said. Who stabbed you? She looked up once more, He - came here - to-night then her voice trailed off. She was dead. H The detective left the room and was going downstairs to tell Mrs. Weston when he heard a noise back of a curtain hanging in the hall. He hurried back, looked behind the curtain, and there lay the body of 'lnita's slayer. Her poison had at last done its work. Slowly the detective went downstairs to tell Mrs. Weston of the terrible tragedy. He hated to tell her of this awful thing. When he told her she just sank to her chair, weak and trembling. ' - He went back upstairs to see if he could find a clew to the identity if the man. He searched his pockets and there he found an envelope with the man's name written on it. On the envelope was written, Mr. Weston. He took the envelope downstairs and showed it to her. She looked at it and there in letters that trembled before her eyes she read, Mr. James Weston. My God, my son, why I thought they told me he died on an expedition to Spain. Oh God, help me, and with this she sank to the iioor, never to rise again. -D The solying of the terrible mystery of the Weston Mansion ended in a terrible tragedy. , , . 4 . .HELEN K. DICKEY ' -40.-- I W AAL' -4--Ana --x1...3ggfi5,,,,,,Y iQ' Ju

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g THE JACK Of LANTERN g g in futile effort to decide the contest. The novelist raised his javelin to hurl lt -at his opponent when the latter deftly struck him with his lance unhorsmg him and thus gaining the' victory. 4 The battlewas over, The victor descended from his horse. - Slowly he advanced and presented his offering. From his hands I received a much-worn volume and settled down in contentment to read again- The Idylls of the King. - . DOROTHY PIDGEON '26s H. H. S.. i ,A illriple mragehg a It was a dark cold, stormy nightin the middle of December. Ar old woman sat huddled in front of the tire place of the great Weston mansion, a look of terror in her eyes. lf those mysterious noises come again tonight, 4 she said to herself, I shall die.'f Almost every night terrible moanings and noises were heard .in the attic of the stately old mansion. Old Mrs. Weston lived by herself with the exception of a maid whom she had brought with her from Spain. Shefcould never find the courage to search for the cause of these noises lerself and when she asked the maid to help her or stay up with her she always made some excuse. - ' M 'The maid went by the name of Anita. She was a tall, dark, lan- guid sort of person, who went around for hours at a time as if in r trance. Always on her face was a look of revenge. She always retired-- before midnight, the time the noises were heard, and apparently they never ,bothered her, at least, she never spoke of them. ' The clock struck twelve, and just at the last stroke of the clock a terrible scream echoed through the great halls of the mansion. Mrs Weston seemed frozen to her chair, every muuscle in her body was rigid. -After a few moments she managed to drag herself slowly up the greatstaircase, each step seeming an eternity. She called in a weak trembling voice, Anita, Anita, but Anita did not answer. Just as she reached the maid's room another of the terrible screams was heard This was too much. She fell in a heap to the floor unconscious. Sl.e' gained consciousness ahfew .minutes later, finding herself lying in the same place. Again she called, Anita. but still no answer. -She raised herself slowly, and just as she did her eyes fell on a shining ob- ject near her. 'She picked it up, and after examining it found it to be a curious little case which Anita always carried with her. Anita must have been in a hurry to drop that, she thought to herself. Slowly, cau- tiously, she' opened the door and peered into Anita's room. - It was empty and apparently Anita had not been to bed that night. Where could she be? Anita has been acting queerly, thought Mrs. Weston, I wonder why. ' Then she raised her head in the air, a look of oezer- mination in her eyes. c If there is any possible way, I will solve this mys- tery. A A -39- 1 1 x 1 'T., ' ' ' ,I I - ' 3. ., 0 -

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Vmv THE JACK O' LANTERN gllllg igreifg glllapper miie For the last two weeks Carrol Dane had outwitted death, through pneumonia in a fight for the life of her young husband. Seated beside his bed she reviewed the startling events of the preceeding days. George a young artist, had contracted a severe cold by work- ing in his dingy studio, long after the embers in the ugly old fire-place had become white,-in fact he had worked into the wee small hours of the morning. To all Carrol's protests he had said. Don't worry your pretty head about me dear, just you go and get your beauty Sleep. be- cause you know when I become really great I expect to hang your por- trait in state and should anyone ask to whom I owe my success I shall say, My Pretty Flapper Wife. How often the last few words ran through her mind during these terrible days, My Pretty Flapper Wife. George had been promised a very successful future by J adson and Schuyler great critics of art with whom he had come in contact during a visit to the Villa of Harold McDonald, a former class-mate, providing he'didn't marry one of those Terrible American Flappersf' As Fate would have it George met, The Terrible Flapper, fell in love with her, and after a very brief courtship married her. Many times during their honeymoon he had often called her his Flapper Wife and had often sung the song My Flapper Wife telling her between breaths that the song was written for her own lititle self. The Honeymoon came to an end as all good things must, and George and Miss Flapper Wife became the much married Danes, plus the romance which does not always last. George was the official bread winner and Carrol became chief cook and bottle washer. She had not received a hint of financial difiiculties until one day during the .jelil-ium,George had seemed to be greatly troubled and had repeated again and again, Give me one week more, just one week please. I do not care about myself it is Carrol, my wfe. Please gve me one week more I will sell my beloved picture. Dr. Chase had insisted on having a nurse for Dane. Carrol had pleaded with him telling him that a nurse was an impossibility because of their financial difiiculties, and that she could care for her husband as well as any nurse. He had shaken his head very slowly as he re- called how he had first seen her, a iiapper, how well that little quota- tion, Beautiful but dumb, seemed to suit her. She was clad in' a pair of knickers, a mannish shirt golf socks, and sport shoes. Her coal black hair was cut in a Peter Pan style which allowed her naturally curly hair to have its own way only on the top of her head. She was very deft in her makeup. Her lips formed a perfect Cupid's' Bow. All of this Dr. Chase noted and was about to declare that she could never take ..41,... . .4 l ' ,,-........zDh:..au.gQiB... ,'