Hunter College High School - Argus Yearbook (New York, NY)

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And they did-in a battle with sides ridiculosuly unbalanced. Aunt Leticia, grim as a marshall, with Mr. Gray-against Howard Lattimer and the calm Mr. Jackling. The law was on Lattimer's side-and Lattimer would give her nothing. When she had proudly, quietly conducted the men to the door, the room was silent but the crackling of tar on the hearth, and the faint song of the iron kettle. A pile of letters she sorted, each graciously inviting her to stay at a relative's home. One last letter she held firmly at the last. Yes, Monk,', she said to the old spaniel lying by the fire. I have been granted admission. You don't understand? It means this, Monk, the State Asylum has had the kindness to receive me. On what grounds? In- san4+I was insane to have signed over my money to Becky dear--I wonder, Monk, if you can come too? The firelight caught and made brilliant one tear that had fallen on Monk's head. Just one. Margaret Grennan, B7 HOPE A stormy sky--and a moon- And the world is a far off place. I am dreaming up' there in space, On the wings of fancy. The clouds are like black cloaks Where danger lurks-unseen. The moon with its silver sheen Is the Spirit of Hope. And I am a speck of dust, Blown by the winds of the air- Helpless. Then why do I dare To be happy? It is the moon. Roxee W ard, B5 Page Seventy-rim .

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One Thursday in November, no amount of work could drive the re- sentment from Leticia's heart. It was against her grain to have to rely on Rebecca's weekly visits to get money. Previously, she had refused to accept a lump, sum, for she had never thought of Rebecca's marrying. She could still have part of the money transferred to her own name, but pride and the remembrance of 'Suppose someone changes it for her? kept her from seeing Lawyer Gray about it. How unlike the old Rebecca this, one was, today! Pale and thin, hurt and bewildered, shadows under her eyes. You know, Aunty, said Rebecca, finishing a cup of broth, Howard is economical-He is so full of his project, the art academy. Leticia had a lurking suspicion that Rebecca knew she was second to the project. 'Tm so glad, continued the girl, with the same pleading look, that you approve of Howard's plans, because today I've given up something that meant a lot to me, just because he showed me the advisability of the plan. I expect you did right, said Aunt Leticia, thinking of a new hat her niece had wanted, but had not bought. I have signed-your money-I mean my money-over to Howard, Rebecca announced with a frightened smile. You see, his project-- 'gYou did what? I said I- I heard you the first time. Poor Becky. Mr. Gray was the lawyer, I suppose? Oh no, Aunty. Howard say's he's too old-fashioned in the way he- Oh, I see. It seemed almost humorous that she would sit there in her own kitchen and be told that her source of income has suddenly been-She might denounce Howard-But the thought of Rebecca-the face of Rebecca stopped her. There were Thursdays in the winter, when Rebecca could visit her aunt. She had caught cold, walking with Howard down to East Lyme in the rain. They might have taken a jitney, but Howard preferred to save the unnecessary expense. When he came one moming alone to Leticia's door, she knew the truth, and told him coldly to spare himself the pain of telling. Though her grief at the girl's death was paramount, her hatred of Lattimer was second only to that. Her niece was buried-f rom the little white church whose steeple you see from the harbor. Of course, Mrs. Bassett, Lattimer was able to say, you cannot expect me to continue Rebeccais little notion of supplying you with money. I have many needs of my own. I am starting a- I know that quite well, Mr. Lattimer. I shall not ask you to supply me with money weekly. A more practical plan would be to set aside a small sum from my estatef' You mean from the money Rebecca signed over to me? Exactly Our lawyers can talk it over next week- Page Seventy-five

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THIS BIOGRAPHIC AGE Or Life as It Might Have Been A model biography such as any girl might write fwith the and of a, dozen class-mates collaborating, each with her respective pet anecdote, joyous or sad, long or short, but all authentwcj CHAPTER I UP FROM THE CRADLE N November 25, 1914, a great misfortune occurred in the Berger family. It was Thanksgiving Day and there was no turkey. Indignant and outraged, my brothers demanded the why and wherefore. From a reliable source they learned that in lieu of the gobbler a little sister had arrived. How disappointed they must have been at the substitution! It was, however, the only sister they had, hence their supreme sacrifice of the dayg to do without turkey. Only two things differentiated my infant days from those of a thousand others. One was Mrs. Flynn, an old Irish-woman hired to perambulate me every afternoon. Alone, she talked a great deal of baby talk to meg with the result that my baby speech was decidely Irish in flavor. The other phenomenon was an adventure in learning to walk. When I was eighteen months old, Mrs. F. one day brought me in from a promenade and absent-mindedly set me down while she removed her hat. On my feet indeed, I gave a joyful shout and proceeded to display a hitherto-unsuspected ability. I ran straight from one end of the room to the other, with a sur- prised and laughing family at my heels. Viola! And so avoiding the crawl- ing, tumbling age, I learned to walk. CHAPTER II BACK TO FATHER-fthere usually is onej A distraught father rushed into the American Consul in Vienna. He was destined to be my grandfather. It was not this however which accounted for his frenzy. My son! He has been kidnapped! Stolen! Oh, you must find him! When sufficiently quieted, he told the Consul he was Herzig of Vienna, at which they all looked upon him with more respect. His younger son had been kidnapped by his tutor and taken to America. An alarm was immediately sent out, and a letter dispatched to the Consul in New York, with instructions to search for a black-bearded man, five feet seven inches tall, and a boy of ten, Edward Herzig, brown-haired, four feet tall, and wearing a black velvet suit and a sailor hat. Another letter went to some cousins in New York, who were to take care of the boy, should be be found there. Page Seventy-:com