Providence Technical High School - Review Yearbook (Providence, RI)

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82 THE TECH REVIEW 1928 “All's Well That Ends Well” By Donald S. Jones ’28 A cuckoo in a clock on the wall cuckoed eleven times, and then exhausted by its efforts returned to the innermost corner of its domicile to rest for another hour. A mass of bed clothes heaved as a thatch of brown hair emerged therefrom. A door opened and closed admitting an immaculately clad valet who strode re- solutely toward the bed with a light of battle in his eye. He sighed as he pulled the bedclothes hack; his daily troubles were about to begin. He seized the sleep- er’s shoulders and shook them forceably. The recipient of these ministrations opened one eye and muttered unintelligi- bly. At the opening of the eye, Eustace, the valet assumed that professional at- titude of aloof indifference and before the sleeper had time to utter further re- marks he began in the tone of a judge sentencing a prisioner. “Sorry Sir to disturb you, but your uncle, so he in- formed me, wishes your presence before he starts on his round of golf.” This announcement was met with an- other grunt which might have meant anything. Neverless, the accused having received his judgment slowly disentang- led himself from the remaining bed- clothes and laboriously rose to his feet. Eustace with a steadying hand led the sentenced one through a door into a bath- room and then returned to the bedroom listening to the sounds of splashing water. I will not attempt, at this time to dis- cribe the splasher for a man is never at his best upon rising. However bis name is Wilbur Ogden Merryweather. His uncle, with whom he lived called him Will. His aunt called him Ogden, the servants called him Mr. Wilbur and what the store boy called him is unprintable. We shall leave Wilbur in his bath and opening the door, the one Eustace came in, pass down the richly furnished hall to an- other door, open it, and walk in. The room is handsomely furnished and identi- fies itself as a library by the rows of books that fill the many shelves. A man is seated at a desk; he has a cigar clenched between his teeth; his iron grey hair falls across his temples; his face speaks charac- ter and determiniation and his qigars speaks money as he suddenly reaches for a fresh one and glares at the partly smok- ed one which he throws away. Sherlock Holmes .and possibly even Dr. Watson had they been present would have de- ducted that he had something on his mind. He was on his sixth cigar when Wilbur, still in the custardy of Eustace entered. The smoker glanced up and dismissed Eustace who was hovering expectantly in the offing. “Morning Uncle Charley,” said Wil- bur dejectedly. “Hullo Will, sit down,” Will did so. The sixth cigar wilted under Uncle Charlies steady glare as it was dropped into the ash tray with its brothers only to be replaced by the seventh. Soon the eighth followed. It was as if Wilbur was in for a long distance cigar glaring exhibition as neither spoke. Wilbur how- ever was satisfied. Eustace was not there to hound him. With this happy thought in mind he skillfully snapped a crumb of his breakfast toast from his lapel with his fingers. I always try to be fair and I think this is a fair time to describe my bero. A girl, I think might characterize him with that simple word “nice but I should

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1928 THE TECH REVIEW 83 say from casual observation simply that he looked like a “good scout.” His fea- tures conveyed no great impression of superior intelligence, but his face radi- ated enough good will and honesty to re- deem any deficiency. Finally Wilbur’s companion broke the silence. “Well, Will, you’re twenty-one today.” Wilbur partly breaking from his re- verie murmered affirmatively. “According to your father’s will.” re- sumed his companion “the huge fortune which was left in my care, when lie died, is now in your name. Here are the bank books. I feel that I have carried out your fathers intentions completely. Especially that peculiar clause which forbids your association with girls.” Wilbur interjected emphatically.“Yes.” Futile attempts to escape his uncle’s watchful eye were still vivid in his memory. “But these are all things of the past. Now, you are free to come and go as you please. You are to live your life. You and only you are to determine whether you will he a success or a failure.” This bust of eloquence was evidently too much for Uncle Charley, as he bound- ed from his chair sized his golf hag in one hand and a half a dozen cigars in the other, and stormed out of the room leav- ing the door, wide open. During this hit of action and its preceeding oration, Wil- bur had been frantically searching his pockets for his address hook. Who was the person who wrote the poem that begins, “Backward oh back- ward time in your flight?” It really dosen’t matter hut simply apply the prin- ciple and hack time up to the previous day when Wilbur in driving his car through the city, quite by accident knocked down a girl who carelessly stepped from be- hind a car parked at the curb. She was up in a minute and firmly declined Wil- bur’s ofTer to take her to a doctor and merely asked to he taken home. 1 lowever inexperienced Wilbur was, lie had learned his lesson early and knew it was useless to try to argue with a woman. During the ride home, neither felt much like talking, hut Wilbur did learn his fair companion’s name to he Beverly Mason and that she lived an Wheeler St., 291 to he exact. Af- ter delivering his charge, Wilbur returned home and reported the incident to his uncle who wrote a substantial check— which by the way he received hack in the next mail—gave it to Eustace for delivery and considered the matter closed. Not so Wilbur however, the twinkle in Miss Mason’s eyes, her spirited manner and the charm, the fresh bloom of youth in her checks kept her in his memory and aside from the fact that lie desired to see her and find out how she was the visit prom- ised to he an interesting one. The dust had hardly settled from Uncle Charlies retreat before Wilbur was off narrowly averting a collision with Eustace who was returning from Wilburs room with a tray of used dishes, and nearly upsetting the housekeeper, who had a weak heart, in his burst of speed down the stairs. Out of the door he went and into his roadster. Surely we say this is not the Wilbur Merry weather of our acquaintance slow, lazy and carefree hut a new Wilbur Merry weather resolute, wide awake and full of pep. He was doomed to disappointment however for at 291 which proved to he a hoarding house he learned from the landlady that Miss Mason was not in hut could he found at the Cosmopolitan Hotel where she worked. Whereupon Wilbur turned his car toward the metropolis and the Cos- mopolitan. We shall now shift the scene of action to the lobby of the hotel. There are in