Petaluma High School - Trojans Yearbook (Petaluma, CA)

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TGH] BG10IMY FAT (Junior Prize Story) J OHN RANDOLPH sat peacefully by his cozy fire gazing intently into the blazing coals. For many years lie bad invested, deposited and held on to the great sums of money at bis command. The iron gray hair, the face creased with wrinkles, the lips, firm and thin, showed plainly a selfish, lonely man, one who had never done any one good and thought he never would. But now, while the snow was falling gently outside, and the night getting colder, the man by the fire was reviewing memories, pleasant and otherwise. The flickering, dancing light in front of him, was like a panorama. A series of pictures arose before him. The first was of that afternoon, for when leaving his office, he had seen, standing by a store whose brilliantly lighted windows revealed a showy Christmas display, a tired, shabbily dressed woman, holding onto an excited and ragged little boy. To-night the heart that had frozen and hardened with every winter was having new sensations. A shadow 7 of the past had enteied into his life. It had changed his future to the course that it had taken. Would it change it again! Twenty years ago! It was as vivid as the present. John Randolph was riding a fine horse up the driveway of a stately Virginian home. It was spring. The air was clear, the blossoms sent out their sweetest odors, the birds sang, and with every note of their happy song, the young heart beating with the fire of youth and love, became suddenly aware that on the veranda in front of him, the object of his coming w 7 as talking to another man. Hot, fiery 7 jealousy surged into the breast of John Randolph. He had driven many miles to see the girl alone and here she was, talking with a person whom she had once said she had thought she loved. After the stranger had gone, in some w 7 ay the two young people had quarreled. In a burst of uncontrollable anger, Randolph had return¬ ed to his native state and had remained there through y r ears, sad, long and lonely for him. The past was revealing itself in the flickering flames of the fire. And in his brain, Randolph’s anger burned, then flickered and always he saw the face of the laughing girl, laughing at him for his needless jealousy 7 . The next day, and following that came many days which found him, after office hours, searching for the face of the woman or of the boy. Each day went, with his failure, but he never gave up. Christmas Eve Randolph was taking a drive in his fine, powerful French car. In turning a corner with unn ecessary 7 speed, the wdieels — 32 —

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THE ENTERPRISE ’17 But it had not. When the man to whom they sold it paid Hen for two hundred and seventy-five pounds at three and a half a pound, he paid a little over nine hundred and fifty dollars. Three weeks later found John Graton exonerating his son from all guilt. The girl breathed easier as he talked, for she was pleased to find that “Blake” was Hendrick Graton, but she had tried to think “Blake” was innocent, although she couldn’t. When everything was cleared, Hen asked her to dine with him, and when they were seated at the little French restaurant, she began to apologize for arresting him and for thinking him a thief. “Will you please tell me,” she asked suddenly, “why you wanted that thousand dollars?” So lie told her, briefly, of the wager, and of the requirements—except that which demanded that he come home with a wife. He paused on this one and in that pause, his eye fell on a large day calendar. It was the thirtieth of October, the last day of his year! And so then he told her of the marriage requirement, finishing with the old, old, words that have been used a million times. John Graton received a message that afternoon: “Send the $2,000 by messenger to Campau’s. Ring, minister, and a trip to Florida. A double and a whale did it. HEN.” TIIURLOW HASKELL, ’ll —81—

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THE ENTERPRISE ’17 in front skidded and a “newsie” was injured. The chauffeur stopped, and Randolph huried to the assistance of the “confounded nuisance’’ as lie had termed him. As he leaned down to pick up the boy, he saw that it was the one with the woman. The physician attending the little fellow lying white and still on Ran¬ dolph’s bed had said, “Merely a sprained ankle. Send him home tomor¬ row. He has a mother he wants.” And so that was how it happened, that the next morning as the church bells tolled out their accustomed “Peace on earth, good will toward men,” the little “newsie” was rid¬ ing beside Randolph in the latter’s own car and ordering the chauffeur to “147 Houston.” Randolph could hardly restrain himself. He wanted to shout, to dance, to sing, to hold the boy to him, but he didn’t. His stern face never softened, the firm hands never relaxed their hold on the boy. Finally they reached “147.” The boy got out of the car limping. Randolph helped his small charge up endless flights of stairs. Soon the little one opened a door and they entered a room, neat and tidy, rep¬ resenting every room in an ordinary house. By the bed, the woman was kneeling, her hands clasped before her, her face lifted in a silent prayer. The boy cried out “Mama!” In a dazed way the woman arose from the bed. “My darling! My little boy!” Tears of joy and thankfulness streamed down the tired, care-worn face. Something like a lump came in Randolph’s throat. He gazed intently out the window. He was afraid to look around. Would she know him? Would she still care? Whose little boy was it she loved so passionately? Would she come to him? A sort of steady pulsation was beating against his brain. He felt tired. He, John Baxter Ran¬ dolph, was afraid. “Ah, sir, I cannot thank you enough, I can’t — you —.” The man turned. He looked, a strange, undefinable look it was too, into the face of a stranger. Bitter disappointment and a strange, strong feeling of loneliness overcame him. With a great effort he managed to get out of the door of the house. With a still greater effort, he drop¬ ped the incident out of the door of his mind. SUSAN CASTERLINE , ’18.