Mansfield High School - Manhigan Yearbook (Mansfield, OH)

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talent, the faculty had no reason for complaint. She obeyed the rules, attended the recitations, was respectful to her teachers and amiable to her school-mates; and if she spent the recreation hours in memorizing and re¬ citing scenes from some of her favorite plays it could hardly be called a misdemeanor. To be sure, she broke considerable crockery about her room and in one of her famous death falls had dislodged some plastering on the ceiling of the room below. Nevertheless, as both crockery and ceiling had been cheerfully paid for, Miss Dale’s censure, though earnest and emphatic, was never over-hard. In Miss Dale’s literature class alone did Gwennie take an untiring and fervid interest, for the class was now engaged in the study of Elizabethan drama and Shakespearean plays. While other girls might pick out the shortest possible quotations to memorize, Gwennie would commit whole scenes and acts and recite them with such extravagant passion and eager¬ ness as to cause the teacher to stop her with a stern command, in the midst of her selection. Like all true lovers of the stage, Gwennie admitted the claims of Shakespeare, but secretly in her own heart she considered McGrath the Immortal William’s superior. The many popular plays which she had attended the previous season with an indulgent and unobservant father had caused her mind to be dangerously filled with many untrue impressions of real stage life, the result of which is now showing itself in her unnatural craving for the stage. Some of the girls denounced Gwennies notions as silly and ridiculous, while some of the romantic and sentimental ones sympathized with her ambitions. But nevertheless Gwennie’s room was the gathering place of everyone in general and no one in particular, for here were sure hopes of entertainment, not unmixed with a delightful sense of novelty. Among the trunks brought from home was one which contained a full counterpart of Langtry’s costumes, made mostly of cheese-cloth and cotton- flannel, given the finishing touches by the addition of beads, tinsel, artificial flowers and other inexpensive but effective materials. But it was while alone in her room that she produced her most touching and thrilling scenes. Tragedy, not comedy, was her sphere. She loved to groan and shudder and shriek, to tear her hair, to undergo most cruel tortures and to die violent deaths. Hysterical laughter, wild cries for help and mercy, coming from the direction of a certain room at the end of the hall, ceased to awaken any fear or apprehension in the hearts of her listeners. The teachers wisely made no serious attempt to check or suppress the stage fever which by this time had seized many of the girls, knowing well how many fads come and go during the school year and that it would be over all the sooner by allowing the girls to work it off. Gradually the novelty, as predicted, wore off and the girls, one by one, sought new pastimes and pleasures. Gwennie alone untired of her art, while the teachers, knowing the fever had about run its course, relaxed into that tolerant amused state in which apprehension had no place It was in early April that the unexpected happened. Gwennie not hav¬ ing appeared at classes, a girl was sent up to investigate, returning in a few minutes with the astounding information that the room was void of any page thirty-four

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An Aspiration Pleasantly Blasted G. M. W. ’13 ITHIN twenty-four hours after Gwendolyn’s arrival that late January afternoon, her hopes and ambitions were known throughout the length T T and breadth of the school. Miss Dale, that most capable young lady, the professional dryer of all newcomers’ tears, the expert cases of home-sick¬ ness and promoter of general cheerfulness, had approached the newcomer that evening intent on allaying any possible qualms of homesickness, etc., that her charge might already have acquired. She noticed that the girl was good looking in a certain way, with thick yellow hair dressed in picturesque fashion, and large gray eyes which had a tendency to roll from side to side in an ill-at-ease, self-conscious manner. ‘Tm afraid you’ll feel a trifle lonely at first,” she began with one of her most suave smiles. “Oh, no!” was the startling response, “I’m used to being apart; I’m never lonely.” “It’s my ambition,” continued Gwendolyn, “my talent. Nobody seems to understand, so I’ve worked on alone.” The “alone” was tolled sadly and accompanied by one of those sweet die-away smiles that instantly roused her hearer’s curiosity as to just what kind of talent the girl might be referring to. Suddenly clasping her hands about her crossed knees and striking a photographic pose, Gwendolyn asked: “Do you think I look like Langtry? Lots of people have noticed the resemblance-that I am the born image of her, only more spiritual.” The clue had been found. Miss Dale beheld before her a late victim of that ever busy stage fever germ. “Well, you’re about her size and the shape of your face is something like Langtry’s,” admitted Miss Dale. “Yes, I guess it must be true,” replied Gwendolyn. “At first I was awfully disappointed, for I wanted to be one of those thin, willowy, squirmy kind—like Bernhardt, you know. But when I commenced to get fat, why, I almost stopped eating for months, trying to stay thin; but it was hopeless, for I just kept right on getting fat. But I don’t care much, for I know lots of people that think Langtry’s better than Bernhardt, anyway. Which do you like the best?” Miss Dale evaded the question by asking, “You wish to go on the stage?” “I’d die if I couldn’t!” exclaimed Gwendolyn. Here the string bell cut short further conversation and Miss Dale, having gained her room, laughed heartily over the whole affair. She thought of the words the girl’s father had spoken that morning when he came to make final arrangements for his daughter: “Gwennie’s a good girl but she’s got some silly notions. Her mother is dead, and I thought that what she needed most was a good school and some sensible women to look after her.” She agreed with him heartily now concerning the silly notions, but nevertheless she thought to herself with a little pucker growing between her brows, I only hope she is too silly to do anything foolish. Gwennie was not especially brilliant in any of her studies, but as the same could be said of many other girls who made no pretentions to dramatic page thirty-three

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occupant. Miss Dale, with fear in her heart, hastened to the vacant room to verify her growing suspicions. The bed had not been used and Gwennie’s hat, coat, furs and street clothes were missing. Pinned to the pin-cushion was a note which ran: “I have gone out into the world to make my fortune. I have some money and if I need more I will pawn my jewels. But I will soon be making plenty of money and when I become famous I shall come back and see you all. Tell my father not to worry for I can be kept from my art no longer, if he is willing to give his consent to my course let him advertise in the newspaper.” Despite the seriousness of theaffair, Gwennie’s reference to her “jewels, ” which consisted of two rings, a locket and chain and a brooch, brought a twinkle to Miss Dale ' s eyes. But when she set out a little later to send a telegram to Gwennie’s father and to visit a local de¬ tective agency the twinkle had entirely left her eyes and she had resumed all her old time seriousness. In the evening Gwennie’s father arrived, but the agency had so far met with little success in their search. They were working on the supposition that Gwennie would sooner or later apply to some theatrical manager or agency for work. The next day it was found that she had tried to obtain interviews with several managers, but had failed in all attempts save one. This “exception” good-naturedly told them of the interview. “Mighty handsome girl, that,” he said, “but her ideas of stage life are all foam. She thought I would lake her up in a second, start her out starring in ‘The Blue Bird’ at $100 a month, etc. Oh, I have seen lots like her before. So I just laid it out plain to her; kind of rough, I know, but it’s good for her, that talk is. Told her she wasn’t so much as a beauty and hadn’t the faintest twinkle of a star about her, etc.; that stage life isn’t all acting, nor gaiety, nor applause, nor fame, but goes hand in hand with good, old-fashioned drudgery. Kind of seemed to bring those high notions of hers down a little and when she left she looked as if she was going to cry, but I guess I made her see the plain, cold facts of the thing.” But as the clue started at this stage entrance, so it stopped there. No further trace of Gwennie or her fortunes was to be found that day. About 9:00 that evening the maid tapped on Miss Dale’s door with: “Please ma’am, Miss Gwennie has come back. I let her in and she has gone to her room; and she looks that puckered out with her eyes all swollen from crying that she looks fit to drop, poor dear.” Miss Dale waited for no more but hastened at once to the returned wanderer’s room at the end of the hall. All was dark within but by the light of the street lamps she could distinguish a bulky object lying across the bed, from which broken sobs issued. She walked quickly across the room and, by the side of the bed, said in a calm, cheerful voice: “I’m so glad you’re come back, dear, your father has been so worried.” No answer, but more convulsive sobbing. “Don’t cry so. Nothing very bad has happened, has it?” “It was awful,” exclaimed Gwennie, fairly bouncing in her wrathful indignation. I went to lots of managers and hardly anyone would see me and and one manager told me I didn’t have a bit of talent that I didn’t know what stage life meant and that I should have to begin by doing their work. Think of it! Oh, dear.” More gulping and wailing. “And they wouldn’t take me in at lots of boarding houses, and when I did find one it was so smelly and Oh, page thirty-five