Plymouth High School - Mayflower Yearbook (Plymouth, IN)

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THE SENIOR ANNUAL ESTHER O'KEEFE I I U72 ZDBSQU C0901 1 I I had just received my degree at the State Varsity in June and was so tired after the Prom and house party, that I ran over to B- to rest up. B-is a wee bit of a place, but very shady and cool. The square white houses sit complacently back in a sea of green lawn, far removed by the row of high picket fences from the glare of the outside world. Farther down the square was the same corner- store, where I used to invest every available penny for licorice nig- ger babies. Everyone in this village of Friends was glad to see me for my father 's sake, for he had grown to manhood among them. My mother was of the world's people, a somewhat forbidden topic in these regions. The sincerity of these villagers was so genuine, that had a stranger cared to assume any superior airs, they would of necessity have fallen aside like a discarded cloak. My Aunts Prudence and Patience were the nearest of my kin, and I chose their home as my headquarters. It was once an old tavern on the State Road. Here my grandfather kept open house and here my father was born, and his mother died. VVhen but a tiny girl I used to come and stay weeks at a time. The things that I best remembered from these occasions were the quince honey and hot muffins for tea. First, however, I must tell you something of my aunts. Aunt Prudence was a large finely proportioned woman, whose word was law. She was always scolding and Worrying over some minor detail, but remarkably well did she play the masculine part of the house- hold. Oftentimes I have seen her don a pair of rubber boots and seizing the plow-share, show that worthless hired boy Zeke, how to run things. Aunt Patience is as different, well there is about as much diiference as can exist between a delicate damask rose and a purple cabbage. The latter is sometimes very useful, but for my part I prefer roses. Zeke was waiting for me at the station with the buckboard. His freckled, smiling countenance had not changed in all the years since I had last seen him, except that over it time had traced slight furrows, and the freckles if anything, were browner. A dampish drizzle had set in and the old gray nag trotted along with surprising alertness, considering his years, until we were soon at the farm. It was the same place as of other days, with the prim evenly-clipped box-hedges, and flaming rambler over the queer arched door framed by its two tiny panes of leaded glass. Zeke handed me out with the air of a prince in a fairy tale and there stood Aunt Patience at the door to greet me. The first thing that came to my notice was the tatting and shuttle in her hand. Since my earliest remembrance she had been placidly making tatting.

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THE SEN IOR ANNUAL fa' Y 'ww 1 f ,M s l l l l l X l EMMA CHESNEY A M. Kalamazoo College A. B. '92 Unlverslty of Mlchigan A. M. '97 Latln and German l l l l C. E. HARRIS A. B. Lebanon College A. B. '06 Ohlo State Unlverslty Sclence , H. G. SCHE LL Michigan State Normal College Cleary Buslness College '06 Commercial Department ,ef-'..,N ,, Mm .4 ' Mk if ,f 5. M. ADALAIDE MCGUIRE Chicago Muslcal Colleae '04 Columbia School of Muslc Muslc and Drawlng '05 .xy l l

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THE SENIOR ANNUAL I have a faint recollection, once, in pinafore days of trying to cal- culate how far all the tatting she had ever made would reach. Such a charming picture as she made, standing in that old-fashioned door- way, in her quaint Quaker garb. The hall behind her was furnished in pineapple carved maghony, and the lighted tapers in the brass scones flanking either side of the console, cast such a soft glow down on her, that I thought even my stern great-grandfather hanging above must smile approvingly. Someone called shrilly and I ran to find Aunt Prudence standing in the south entry. Her skirts were pinned closely about her for, there's was no use amessin' up so, just doin' a little scrubbin'. Only once before, when I had pulled all the blossoms off her early strawberries, did I experience such a bear-hug. The hidden motive behind the two clutches, however, was vastly diiferent. At tea I was asked so many questions in such rapid succession that my quince honey and muflins remained almost untasted. The little tea table was very dainty with its polished top, covered with the fringed doilies and china of the Blue Willow pattern, and the bright old faces of my aunts, added the last touch to the whole picture of Warmth and good cheer. Aunt Patience gracefully played the role of hostess as she sat behind the silver teapot. The latter was an exquisite affair all done in chased silver, with the most adorably wrought handle and the letters S. F. engraved on the lid. Why, Aunt Patience, I cried, Hwhat lovely old English en- graving. , Then I told her of my collection of teapots, from the smiling little Mandarin that came with a pound of Orange Pekon, to the rare cloisonne one that Jack had sent from Shanghai. She said this one was very old, but Aunt Prudence with a sweeping glance of contempt for all such truck, dismissed the subject by asking me where I got my cuff-links, fer they looks much like some Zeke's got. Afterwards we sat in the long drawing-room by the great fire- place whose glistening andirons were heaped high with crackling, sputtering logs. Aunt Patience slipped the cover from her gilded harp, and her slender fingers glided over the strings, while I ac- companied her on the yellow-keyed spinet. We sang all the beauti- ful old -melodies ending with Annie Laurie, and the high trills of the Mocking Bird. Even tho her voice sometimes wavered doubt- fully, the mellowing of the years had only lent to it an added charm. Last of all We went upstairs, I to sleep in the guest chamber under the eaves. Here the soft summer rain pattering down on the shingles, soon soothed me to sleep, and to dream of all the people who had ever slept in that massive four-poster. My visit lengthened on thro the lazy summer days, on till the mournful chirp of the katydids and the hoarse croak of the bullfrogs in the marsh, betokened the coming autumn. One evening at sundown, Aunt Prudence sent Aunt Patience and me after the drove of bronze turkeys that had strayed to the west woods. Starting home we crossed the stile and sat down to rest on the way, in the family burying ground. When a child I had often come here, and dug the moss from the letters on the headstone with a pin. One poor little lonesome grave, particularly, had always claimed my sympathy, for tradition