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

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1 o:j() THE TECH REVIEW 49 The evening performance at the Thea- tre Des Royales was on. The little French- man’s beaming face fairly radiated light as he came to the front of the stage and made the next announcement. Ladies and gentlemen, it gives me great pleasure to pre- sent at this time Mademoiselle Jeanie Pat- terson. Jeanie came forward, smiled and bowed mechanically. A thunder of applause broke. Up in the Ambassador’s box a man started as though shot. My God, it can’t be—Jeanie! As though in answer she happened at that moment to turn her face in his direc- tion. Their eyes met. She turned whiter than death. The overture to her number was playing. She must go through with it somehow! At last it was over. The curtain fell. The excited audience clapped and cheered. Encore! Encore! But the encore never came. For in back of the stage two hearts were reunited, and Bruce Sydney held close in his arm» a sob- bing girl, and whispered huskily, “Jeannine, my Jeannine. Outside, pealing softly on the clear, frosty air, the cathedral chimes rang out as though in benediction. And it was the night before Christmas. BY THESE WORDS YE SHALL KNOW THEM “Ray Westcott— C’mon—let’s go! Esther Devine— “Don’t be like that! Bill Sand ford— Got your money ready? Em Moran— Plot Sox!” Ed” Cullen— I hope so!—?” Dot Peden— Aw-right Alice Peacock— Oh—Please!” “Tut Ferrara— Well—I like that! Elna Blomquist—“Oh—Hec(k) ! Ruth Drew— Don’t do that! Ed” Geremia— More power!” Roy Pearson— C’mon—break it up! Irma Russin— She’s a ion ! Esther Grande— And how! Frank Gannon— What d’ya mean? Bud Ferraioli— Izzatso?” ' Jess MacKinnon— Ya know what? “Grade” Cripps— My word! Helen Kinnecom— Oo-oo-oo, how in- triguing! Franklin Walker— Oh—h—yeah? “Beau” Gosset— You lvould.—you’re just that type! “Howie” Scholz— Hot stuff—much.” Dan Earle— Well—I’ll-be-darned!’’ Ruth Nodine— Aw—g’wan.” Henry Deering— Check! Ruth Pease— Oh—Dawd. “Lee Briggs— Be good? Kay” McCarthy— It must be love!” 1 essie Ciamporcero— How dumb! Lucy Miragliuolo— Oh! give me a break! Florence Santos— How’d you get that way? Marion Draper— Now, listen. Mildred Pierce— Jumping grasshop- I • pers! M. P. H.

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48 THE TECH REVIEW 1930 Bruce looked up thunderstricken. “Europe! But how, and why?” A friend of Natalie’s heard her sing at the Christmas Eve Ball last month, and offered to finance her musical education abroad. So . . . she’s gone. That’s all I know.” Bruce’s eyes were pleading mutely. “But she left no word with me. I did not even know she was going.” “Was she — anything to you?”, Jim spoke hesitatingly. Bruce looked up quickly. Was it as obvious as that? “I guess I’d better tell you the whole story,” he said. “Then you’ll understand better.” He began de- terminedly. “Ever since I graduated from college I have been with the Secret Service. A little over a month ago I was sent to New York by Edwin Patterson, a Chicago millionaire, in hopes that I could find his daughter who had run away from home some time previous, and whom he has never heard from since. All by accident I chanced upon Jeanie Patterson and decided that she was the party I was looking for. Then the trouble began. The moment I set my eyes on her, I fell madly in love with her. We went around together until last week, when I asked her to marry me. She refused on the plea that she preferred a career to marriage. I begged her to re- con: idcr, but it was useless. And now, she has gone, leaving no word. “But what of her father? Bruce groaned. “That’s the worst of it. I wras so engrossed in Jeanie that I ne- glected to write her father. I never made my business known to her, so of course she never suspected that I knew her father. And now it is too late.” “Couldn’t you locate her in Paris?” “I can at least try, for her father’s sake.” “How about your own?” Bruce rose to his feet and shook his head unsmilingly. “I don’t think it’s much use.. Thanks for the information, Jim. See you later.” The two men parted, and although Jim heard that Bruce had sailed for Paris the following week, he was destined to lose all track of him for a long time. Three years had passed and Christmas Eve had come again with its joys and sor- rows, its gaiety and laughter. In a small but select cafe in Paris sat Jeanie Patter- son. She has not changed much since we last saw her. Though fame and fortune had smiled upon her, she was not happy. For there was a downward droop of the mouth, and dark shadows under the eyes that had been entirely unknown to the Jeanie Patterson of old. Across the table from her sat a wiry little Frenchman who was evidently asking a favor. “But, Mademoiselle, you will come, yes? I beg of you. It would make me famous. I will make it worth your while. Mademoiselle.” Jeanie assented wearily, and the little Frenchman departed murmuring estatically, “Ah, tonight the famous Mademoiselle Patterson sings at my theatre. And ze Ambassador will be there also. It is well.” After he had gone Jeanie drooped her head pathetically on her arm, and gazed unseeingly out of the open window. Fame was hers, yes even as she had dared imagine in her wildest dreams. Hers was the power to sway a million hearts. She smiled bitterly. Yes, but in the gaining of this she had lost the most precious prize of all—Love! So the American Ambas- sador was to be guest of honor at the 1 heatre Dcs Royalcs tonight. She won- dered idly what he looked like. It would seem good to see an American anyway. Suddenly she became aware that people were staring at her. She rose to her feet, half angrily, and left the cafe.

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