Milford High School - Oak Lily and Ivy Yearbook (Milford, MA)

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OAK, LILY AND IVY. 9 blank, vacant stare from Colcord’s eyes; in its stead animation and determina¬ tion reigned supreme. Before he reached Bancroft, he started talking. I say, Perry,” he gasped, Lve changed my mind about playing. Although I don’t believe I can help any, you seem to think I can and I’d sacrifice myself a thousand times, rather than have those Fisk shrimps beat us; so won’t you please send me in?” “Won’t I?” cried Perry, You come right along with me, darling. Here, take my arm. Hurry up, before you change your mind.” He found a suit for Francis and sent him in with fervent prayers for his success. As soon as the third quarter started, a subtle change crept over the St. Timothy players. They had been in the Slough of Despondency, now they were in the seventh Heaven of Delight. Who, seeing Colcord’s playing could help feeling encouraged? He got the ball the first time it was snapped, ploughed straight through the Fisk line, knocking them right and left, and made for the distant goal past one—two—three players, he dodged, and now there was but one left between him and his heart’s desire. The remaining opponent was almost as large as Francis and he looked determined, but Francis looked sot”. Tie had made up his mind to carry that ball across the line and no football player or anything else was going to stop him. As the burly Fisk man approached, the boy dropped his too proud to fight” tactics and made no effort to edge away. Just as the fellow gathered himself for the tackle, Francis shot his right arm out and his open hand made good con¬ nection with the other man’s chin. The Fisk man promptly dropped to the ground. At last, the coast was clear and with both teams close to his heels, Francis leaped the final line, throwing himself flat on the ground, and hugging the precious ball close to his wildly beating heart. He had made the first touch¬ down, and though that would seem enough for one man for a little while, it was he who, a few moments later, kicked the goal. That was the beginning of St. Timothy’s run of success. When time was called the score stood 46 to 21 in favor of St. Tim’s”. If you listened intently, you could hear above the thun¬ derous cheering; What’s the matter with Colcord? Tie s all right.” —E. METCALF, ’20. OVERHEARD. I had just settled myself comfortably in an East-bound train when a little old-fashioned couple entered. “Come, Joshua,” I heard the woman say, 4 we’ll sit here on the left side,and then we can see our chimney first thing over the hill when we reach Madbury.” They had some difficulty in getting seated, for the new valise had to be carefully placed under the seat, the bandbox safely stowed in the hat rack,

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8 OAK. LILY AND IVY. into Francis’ unwilling ears until at last the would-be poet even began to take interest in the situation. Yet he believed that all this talk about the necessity of his joining the team was absolute rot”. He was only mildly conscious of his ability as a football player and thought all this hubbub about his declining to play was much ado about nothing. Besides, he had a deep-seated prejudice against football. His brother had narrowly escaped permanent injury in a foot¬ ball game the preceeding year, and he had resolved then and there never again to become a participant in the barbarous sport”. But he was only a boy of nineteen, and he had a strong strain of sporting blood in him which was yet be brought out. Before his brother’s injury, Francis had been a passionate lover of football and the affection had not wholly died out. Besidess, he had been an excellent player. Before coming to New York, he had attended a large Western univer¬ sity. As a freshman, he had shown great promise and in his sophomore and junior years had been the star of the team. It was only natural, therefore, that as Jim ' s and Perry’s appeals grew more and more frantic, he should feel strange stirrings in his breast, longings for something he could not define. However, he needed a more violent jolt than he had yet received to get him out of that poetic rut into which he had fallen and restore him to the active, red-blooded American boy he had once been. And he was destined to receive that jolt. Time passed, until it was only two days before the great game. That night Bancroft came to Francis and frantically begged him to alter his decision. How¬ ever, Francis was firm as cement. I do not care to have anything to do with football,” was the gently spok¬ en verdict, and though Perry pleaded and remonstrated and even threatened, it was of no avail. In fact, he felt as if he had run up against an obstacle, so strong and stubborn that it was futile to attempt to overcome it. Under these conditions, he departed, to dream that night that St. Tim’s” was beaten 127 to 0. The fateful day dawned with a clear sky but Perry’s heart was anything but light. The opposing team arrived promptly, escorted by a host of rooters. But the St. Tim” benches were crowded, too, with girls and fellows waving crimson banners and shouting encouraging words. At 3 o’clock the referee’s whistle tooted, the opposing captains shook hands, and the battle was on. It raged hot and heavy for the first few minutes, and then the warriors settled to hard, nerve racking work. The end of the first quarter, however, found the score 7 to 0 in favor of the Fisk men and at the end of the first half, it had jumped to 21 for Fisk Academy and the same degrading cipher for St. Tim’s.” As Bancroft dragged his weary limbs to the gymnasium, he thought de¬ spondently that there was little use playing the last half, for it would only make the score more ignominious and galling to the pride of the St. Tim” men. He was a failure, he told himself drearily, and his heart was heavy within him. It was then he heard his name called, and turning saw some one with whom he was perfecty sure he was not acquainted approaching him on the run and yelling breathlessly. But how could he be expected to recognize dreamy-eyed, poedc Francis Colcord in the excited, wide-awake lad approaching him? Gons wa; t ii

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10 OAK. LILY AND IVY. the parrot’s cage hung from a hook near the window, and the umbrella stood up in a corner. Then Joshua sank back with a sigh of relief in the cushioned seat, but his wife straightened her prim little bonnet, unfastened her cloak, fold¬ ed her hands, and gazed about. “There, Sarah, I reckon we’ve got everything fixed now and I must say I’m right glad to be startin’ fer home.” “Yes, that’s right. Not but what I’ve had a good time visitin’ John and his wife but I jest can’t get used to those city folks.” Nor me, neither,” Joshua answered. Why, Grace has even changed John so’s I’d hardly know him for the young-un I used to spank when I caught him playing hookey.” “You’re right he has changed. And say, will you believe Grace makes him sleep in pajamas ! Just you think of that! Poor John. If he’d only stayed at home with us we wouldn’t a made him sleep in them pink things.” “Wa’al, Sarah, I don’t mind them pink pajamas so much as I miss a soap¬ stone to warm my bed. When I asked Grace fer a soapstone she brought me a rubber bag filled with hot water,—a hot water bottle she called it. Good heav¬ ens to Betsy! Did she think I was going to put that thing in my bed? Wa’al, I guess not. The old thing might a busted and then I’d got my death-er-cold. No, siree, no rubber bags filled with hot water in my bed.” At that moment, the brass-buttoned news boy came through the train shout¬ ing his wares. Joshua purchased a paper while Sarah watched him closely to see that there was no cheating in making change. She had been well instruct¬ ed in city ways, and in her estimation Joshua still needed her care. “Anything in the paper ’bout Hiram Young’s funeral?” asked Sarah. You know ’Lizabeth wrote ’twas the largest in years.” “No, there ain’t nothing ’bout that, but here’s all about Nellie Grimes’ wed- din ' .” “Who’d she marry? It’s about time she stopped flirtin’ and settled down.” “That young city feller who’s been spendin’ his vacations there fer the last year. They’ll be trottin’ to the city pretty soon, I suppose, and then she’ll be wearin’ a night cap to breakfast same as Grace does.” “Why Joshua Allen!” exclaimed Sarah nudging him to be quiet. “’Tain’t a night cap it’s a boudoir cap.” After this rebuke Joshua laid aside his paper and looked out the window, twirling his thumbs. “Guess we’ll have a storm ' fore night. It’s cloudin’ up over there in the East.” 1 Just then Sarah began looking about, in great excitement, first on the hat- rack, on either side, then on the floor. “Joshua, it’s gone!—Joshua, I tell you it’s gone!” “What’s gone?” he drawled. My umbrella. Someone’s took it! It’s just as good as it was twenty year ago ’cept for a little hole near the top.” Well, mebbe you left it at John’s. Anyhow, I will buy you a new one when we get home.”