Oberlin College - Hi-O-Hi Yearbook (Oberlin, OH)

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at Taken for cz Comedy. ITH a final puff of eicasperation and a Jolt of retaliation for past grievances, the great engine came to a standstill in stall No. 4. Among the hurrying figures that thronged the platform before u the station Ted Townley, the rising newspaper artist, was threading his way to stall No. 4. His characteristic, swinging gait, a bit more brisk than usual, if that were possible, his fresh white stock, straw hat, and gen- eral summer-at-high-noon attire, no less than the expression about his dark eyes and set jaw, testified that he was fighting the good fight with the world and winning, also his manner testified that he was anticipating a great Pleasure, and that his conscience was perfectly clear on the subject. For the first time I now have a right to let myself care for her, and, what is more, to tell her that I do, and he braced his shoulders at the thought as men do who have left the city's dust and strife and reached the clearer atmospheres of the midslopes of the mountains. Farther up the platform, his blue eyes dreamy with some happy recol- lection, his much-worn and many-times-brushed suit and soft felt hat sug- gesting, by very force of contrast, the white sailors and smart iiannels usually displayed upon such head and shoulders as were his, stood Floyd Arnold, the young poet whose delicate and beautiful verses were beginning to be read and loved by the cultured few, but whose obscurity and unsuccess -as the world counts it-was assured for years if not for a lifetime. In his hand he held a small florist's box, and as the train pulled in he removed his hat as if performing a religious rite. Almost the first person to alight from the train was a woman, and in- stantly that slight figure in the long gray cloak and scooped gray hat with the violets stacked upon it, appeared, the steps of Townley, the newspaper artist, and those of Arnold, the unrecognized poetical genius, converged toward it as a center of gravity. The girl in gray swept a glance over the crowd, saw the two men almost simultaneously, and was proud of them. Launcelot and Galahad, she murmured, and then aloud, as Townley reached her first and lifted her from the last step of the car, Dear old Ted- die! Wrenching a gray glove from her right hand, she extended it to Arnold looked up at him, and said the one musical monosyllable Floyd! which made two men in passing turn their heads in her direction and deliver themselves of the following brilliant remarks: Deucedly sweet voice. 7 ' ' 1

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QUIET MEETING. Stern were his eyes of Quaker gray While hers were soft and tblue, And in the meeting-house that day Amid the Friends, he looked her way To where the women sat alone. The gray eyes turned to'seek his owng All grave the blue-unconscious they Yet answered-and he knew. But WIIGII he met her at the door She spoke, who never dared before: 'Twas strange that when thee turned thy head The Spirit moved me too, she said. Margery Strong. IN HER EYES SO DEEP. In her eyes so deep there are secrets hid, That I try in vain to read. ' And the magic to lift each drooping lid Is surely my heart's great need. Yet I dream tl1c1'e's a love that will never sleep, In her eyes so deep. Could I read my fate in those eyes of blue, ' I'd happier be, I know. For I'm given to hope I would find them true, And with tender trust aglow. So I dream there 's a love that will never sleep, In her eyes so deep. When lifted at last they are filled with tears, Those wonderful, limpid eyes- Then away with my craven doubts and fears! They tell me I've won my prize, And I know there 's a love that will never' sleep In her eyes so deep. 1 Paul L 16 eaton Corbin

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And a deucedly beautiful girl, by love! Lucky dufferf' Lucky chap. Most of the aforesaid conversation was pitched in a note perfectly audible to its subject, and Townley's frown looked like murder until the deucedly sweet voice recalled him to the civilities of life. Mr. Townley, Mr. Arnold. I have so long wanted you two to know one another, and lo! it is accomplished, and she waved her hands with mack solem-nity as if in blessing over the two manly ones which clasped each ot er. VVhat a little monk it is, eh Arnold ? said Townley, never taking his eyes from her face. Aye, in a dove-gray cowl, said the poet. Oh, thank you, gentlemen, laughed the girl, witha low courtesy, her ungloved hand upon her heart, the other holding the folds of her cloak from copious contact with the grime. Shall you always wear dove-gray and violet, Majorie ? Yes, Ted, until I am too old. Too old ! in concert from the men. She nodded gravely. And then-- And then P anxiously. And then I shall wear white and violets, perhaps. But what nonsense we are talking. And I've only two minutes more. Where are the train let- ters? You didn't forget P I-Iere is mine, said the newspaper artist, producing a box of Lowney's. Not being a genius or anything of that sort, I couldn't express just what I thought of Majorie Evans on paper, so I brought you these to eat and M onsfieuv' .Beaucaire to read. Won't they do just as well as eulogies, which, however, I might soar, would but cheapen, in trying to describe the loveliest being -and he finished his tirade with a comprehensive sweep of the arm which might mean anything or nothing. ' O, Teddie, Teddie! cried the girl, laughing until the tears stood in her eyes. I-Iow like the speeches of our mud- pie days! VVl1at is the matter? as a scowl darkened his face, and he moved over and planted himself directly be- tween Majorie and the face of an elderly man in a coach window several paces beyond. Nothing, only that old duffer in the window seems to take us for a comedy, and that window for his private box. Marjorie stood on tiptoe but could not see the offender in question, so she, merely laughed again and turned to Arnold. But you wrote me a letter, Floyd ? For answer he handed her a little cube-shaped box. I ' cultivated them for you myself, and today they knew you ,, were coming and bloomed, he said. 1 Not violets! she exclaimed, fairly jumping up and ' down like a child in a transport of joy. In August, too- O, Floyd, you are an angel, and I shall wear them here, placing her hand over her heart in a gesture that seemed ' characteristic of her. O, it's going to start-Floyd, Teddie -goodbye! She gave them each a hand in farewell, Floyd lifted her . to the step, and the train groaned, rocked, and started. As it 18