Ipswich High School - Tiger Yearbook (Ipswich, MA)

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other part of the string: of beads, but found only a torn page of one of Shake- speare’s plays. He read a few lines: “Full fathom five thy father lies, “f his bones are coral made; “Those are pearls, that were his eyes:” and then put the paper into his pocket. He forgot about it completely, while he tenderly handled the rare books which he hoped would soon be his own. But he found, — “Nothing.” After that first morning, although en- thusiasm didn’t die down, the four were seldom found working at the same time. There were other demands on their time. Studying, house-work, the office, all needed attention. In spite of that, the four down-stair rooms of Cap’n Isaac’s house were, by the end of the week, carefully searched and as carefully put in order. When a new distribution or labor was necessary, David once more took com- mand. He said, “You three don’t know how to hunt. I do, and that’s why Fm going to take Cap’n Isaac’s bed-room. I’ve a feeling that the beads will be there. You can divide the other rooms up between you.” “I say, why don’t all of us work to- gether? We’d get done quicker,” put in Bab. “We will not! I certainly don’t in- tend to let you pile anything on top of the things I’m looking at. You can just stick to your own room.” “Oh bla!” The mother silenced them with, “Children, children, there’s no time to quarrel if we expect to find the beads before the month is up. Rememjber, we haven’t even looked at the attic or the yard.” That night Bab was exultant. “Look,” she cried, “I have found — ” “The beads?” “No, a bead.” She held up a tiny egg- shaped bead, red except for a black cir- cle at the tip. “It surely belongs on the string, and I think the others can’t be far off. David sniffed. “It was just luck that you found it. You won’t find the rest urless you do a good stiff lot of hunt- ing. Did you rip up the carpeting or take off the backs of the pictures?” “Of course not!” “I knew it! and I’ll bet you won’t find another bead unless you do all that and ten times more!” Alas, his prophecy was too true, for their searched proved fruitless. That week passed, and the next, and the next. Not even one more bead was found. At the expiration of the month Cap’n Isaac’s house was, according to David, “surrendered to the enemy”, in this case the Cap’n’s nephew and family. A very sober family conclave was held the next morning. Suddenly Mr. Rus- sel, who had been sitting with h’s hands in his pockets, pulled out a scrap of paper. “I found this the very first day,” he said, reading the lines from “The Temp- est.” “Do you suppose it would have given us a clue?” “That reminds me,” Mrs. Russel re- plied, “that the Cap’n picked up quite a few gems while he was traveling What ever became of them ? They aren’t mentioned in his will, and I never heard of his selling them.” “He probably sold them. But jewels or no jewels, the Oriental jar was what caused the whole trouble. I wish I’d never seen the jar, or the beads, or Cap’n Isaac’s house, or — ” David a ' grily threw the Oriental jar on the floor and stormed out of the room. His mother, the peace-maker, rose to follow him. Before she did so, she stooped to pick up the jar. Her sudden exclamation brought David back to see what had happened. He found his mother holding the broken jar in one hand and a white box in the other, while his father and sister stared open- mouthed. “David, since you found the box, I think you should open it.” “I, mother?” was his incredulous answer. “Yes, you. When You dropped the jar, it broke and showed us that it had a false bottom. The box was beneath the false bottom. Open it, quick.” With trembling fingers David obeyed Before his astonished eyes lay a handful of jewels — among them a pearl and a string of coral, “Dave, Bab, wife! If I know anything about jewels, we can buy ourselves a house, one with all the modern conven- iences that Cap’n Issac’s house hasn’t got Hurrah!” And Mr. Russel started a mad Ring-Around-the-Rosy with his family. As he sank breathlessly into a chair David shouted, “Bab! There goes some- thing from the box. Catch it!” Bab rescued a piece of note-paper from the fire-place and when the others had clustered eagerly around her read the following: 10

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people, and not only this, but I had murdered the man, deliberately for my own personal gain. That night I slept but little for the hideousness of my crime became clearer and clearer in my head. Murder, murder, murder, stared at me in dripping red letters every time I closed my eyes. At last, however, I succeeded in dropping into a fitful doze. I had barely closed my eyes when I sat bolt upright in bed with a nameless fear tearing at my heart. I looked about to see what had caused my fear, and as I gazed in front of me, my heart was clutched by a terrible fear, for before my eyes was the form of a wolf with the head of a man, that of Red MacFairland. “Slowly the mouth opened; it spoke: “ ‘You have murdered my wife and in- nocent babes; for their murder, not for my own, I shall haunt you till your dying day. Always, always as la loup- garou I shall be before your eyes to prick your guilty conscience.’ As it spoke, the blood dripped from its mouth as it had done the night I had shot Red MacFairden. Then slowly the form re- ceded, and at last with a weird wailing laugh it was gone. “I arose from my bed. I was covered with a cold, beady perspiration, and my skin was cold and clammy. What I had seen had been no dream but a reality.” He stopped and sat gazing moodily at his plate with an air of utter hopeless- nsss. “What then?’ I urged. “It has been even as he promised me; no matter where I go, no matter what I do, la loup-garou is always there to taunt me.” “But what did that have to do with the particular fear you manifested when speaking to the manager.?” “As he spoke his countenance sudden- ly changed, and I beheld la loup-garou once more before me; it spoke and said: ‘Behold, I am with you still.’ ” E. WITHAM, ’25. THE ORIENTAL JAR When Mr. Russel came home from the office, he greeted his wife with, “Well, little wife, Cap’n Isaac is dead.” “Ne is?” questioned the woman doubtingly. “Yes. I learned at the office that he died suddenly yesterday. His will has already been read and — and he left us nothing but an Oriental jar with a brok- en string of beads. “Your father didn’t leave you his house! Why, I thought surely-” “That is, he didn’t directly. The con- dition was that if we found the rest of the beads in a month we should have the house. If not, his nephew Henry and his family receive it.” “Of course we can find the beads. But isn’t it just like that eccentric old sea- captain, with his passion for collecting old books and curious beads, to leave us such a legacy? We’ll begin hunting to- morrow.” By the time breakfast was over the next morning every member of this legatee family was enthusiastic over the search that was being planned. David, the eldest boy, took charge of the affair. “Now,” said he, “we must have a sys- tematic plan of attack. Mumsie, you take the kitchen, because you know about that. Dad loves books; so 1 guess his place is the library. Bab can take the dining room, and I will hunt in the parlor. And mind, leave everything in order; be methodical. Now, let’s go.” “You and your methods make me sick,” said Bab. “I’m with you, though, on the going.” In no time at all the four were start- ing to search their respective rooms, with the injunction from David, “Re- port this noon.” Each one set about his task in his own manner. David, tall, dark, with method written all over him, took every article off the parlor table, opening the books and probing into the back-binding, turn- ing the bric-brac upside down, sounding the rather thick table for hollow places, and taking out the drawers. And his report was, “I found nothing.” Bab, or Barbara, although her features were like her brother’s, was otherwise very unlike him. Saucy, careless, light- hearted, she hummed a little song as she dumped everything from the side-board onto the dining-room table and then, glancing at it, put each article back in place. Her report too was, “Nothing.” Mrs. Russell did — well, what a woman generally does when she cleans a kit- chen. She busied herself with the pantry shelves, and probably wouldn’t think of the beads unless they dropped out of one of the many pans and kettles. Therefore it was not surprising that she said, “Nothing.” In the library Mr. Russell first no- ticed the mate of his Oriental jar — a carved miniature of the huge water jars the Eastern maidens carry, a jar smell- ing faintly of rosew ' ood and spice. He looked into it, half-expecting to find the 9

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“Dear Son: For years I have planned to will my house to nephew Henry and leave you my jewels, which will buy a better house than mine. However, certain happen- ings have changed my original plans. A year or so ago Henry and I quarreled, and I vowed that I would not give him my house. I have thought much about it since and almost decided to give in. My horrid pride simply wouldn’t let me com- pletely retract; so I chose this round- about way of gaining the ends I first desired. I was very careful to drop the beads down the well in order to prevent your finding them and spoiling my plans. I hope the jewels will take the place of the lost beads. Yours truly. Father.” MARY BEALS, ’25. MYSTERY INDEED The taxicab stopped before a shabby little house in the narrow street. A man dressed in a long fur coat and a high silk hat stepped from the car fol- lowed by a rough looking fellow. They went to the door of the house, where the leader produced a key and let the other unlock the door. They went in and closed the door. Perhaps there is noth- ing myterious sounding about that but I had come out that morning to seek adventure. I immediately believed that some intrigue lay behind this apparently innocent thing. For sometime I heard and saw noth- ing. Then I heard a regular pounding as if some one were driving nails. An- other long silence. Finally the door opened and the two came out bearing a long wooden box, just the shape of a coffin, which they loaded into the rear of the cab. They drove off, and I jumped into my coupe and followed them. They turned corner after corner, rapidly near- ing the business section of the city. My state of mind and the atmosphere of the deserted street had made me really be- lieve that something had happened. That coffin-shaped box! The cab drew up in front of a big office building on the ground floor and second floor of which was a newspaper office. The driver stepped into the building only to come right out followed by two fellows equally rough looking. They carried the box into the building. I, on following, saw it taken into a press room.u A friend of mine was on the staff of this paper. I requested that I should be shown through this particu- lar press room. To my relief, when the box was open- ed there packed in sawdust lay several inking rollers for the press. The rough looking fellows were only the janitor, the melter, ard one of the cleaners. A mystery? Indeed! K. P. RAUPACH, ’27. Senior Section CLASS CELEBRITIES Prettiest girl Best looking boy Most popular boy Most popular girl Clown Nut So-on usician Pest Grandfather Man-hater Woman-hater Sai’ t Artist Vamp Sport Blusher Bluffers Colors Motto Mary Munroe Thomas Doyle Robert Hills Isabel Swasey Mildred Jedrey Jack Callahan Mary Beals Bernard Phelan Peter Pasukonis Philip Ewing Mildred Pickard George Christopher Margaret Phelan George Christopher Mary Woleyko Bernard Phelan Harry Merson Elsie Hull, Honorable Mention Mary Munroe and Philip Ewing Pink and Green “Abeunt Studia in Mores” WHAT THE POETS THINK OF OUR CLASS Mary Beals “Oh! I would be wild and free.” Natalie Brown “I loathe that low vice, curiosity.” Jack Callahan “Fool, to stand here cursing When I might be running!” George Christopher “Oh, it is excellent to have a giant’s strength; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant.” Thomas Doyle “Look! he’s winding up the watch of his wit And by and by it will strike.” Philip Ewing “Beware of entrance to a quarrel.” Mark Hayes “He, their great Captain in days gone o’er.” Shirley Hale “A farmer ought to do his best for every single seed!” 11