Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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8 THE GOLDEN-ROD vet, just a little doubtful as to its practicalness. He left home in fine spirits with his heart keenly alert for the least impulse. When he had gone about half way to the station, he saw a very small boy clinging frantically to a large dog in an effort to restrain him from a passing tramp that the dog had evidently mistaken for his breakfast. Immediately Jones felt an impulse, so according to his theory he quickly acted upon it by going to the boy’s aid. Their combined ef- forts were sufficient to hold the dog until the tramp hurried around a corner. The result of his first impulse was that Jones missed his train and got his neatly tailored clothes covered with dirt and dog hair, but he felt that his first ex- periment was successful. Jones waited patiently for a later train and when it came he got on and sat down directly be- hind a young lady and gentleman. lie began reading his paper as usual because he believed that impulses enough would come to him with- out his looking for them. Subsequent events proved this to be correct for. as he glanced up from his paper for a second, he noticed that the back comb of the young lady was almost out, and that she was in danger of losing it. Instantly R. Asticot Jones felt an impulse and the next mo- ment he was reaching over in his most unobtru- sive manner and was replacing the comb. The young lady quickly put her hand to the back of her head, saw Jones, turned several shades pinker than she was and hurriedly whispered a few short sentences in the young man’s ear. Jones painfully realized that nearly every body in the car was looking and he heard someone say, “And he’s a married man, too.” At the station, as the people were getting off, Jones was stared at as if he were an escaped convict, and not only that, but the young man edged over to Jones’ side and asked to see him outside of the station. Jones started to explain but was told that no explanation would be re- quired until they met outside. Jones did not wait for an impulse, but sneaked out of the back door of the station and jumped into a taxicab, at the same time throwing the driver a bill and telling him to get away from the station in the shortest possible time. The people at the office are still wondering why Jones should drive to the office on such a fine morning. Mrs. Jones has never since made any reference to her husband’s theory, but some- times she smiles when there is apparently noth- ing to smile at. H. M. ’ll J All’s Well That Ends Well I On one of those delightfully drowsy days to- wards the middle of May, Philip Dexter, the most popular senior in Princeton college, sat in his room, busily studying his chemistry. Phil never knew what it meant it study hard until the previous month when he had proposed to Catherine Churchill, his room-mate’s pretty sis- ter. Her answer had been decidedly negative, on account of Dexter’s never having accomplished anything worth while, except upon the foot-ball field. Since then, although there were only three months more of college, he had studied day and night, in order to pass his exams with high rank and principally to please the captivating Miss Churchill. Phil’s father, a multimillionaire, idolized his only son and Mr. Dexter’s chief am- bition was fulfilled when his boy was elected, for two years, captain of the Princeton eleven. There- fore, the lad never had any aspirations for study- ing. Although Phil was very popular, he had an enemy in Allan Kirby, the chemistry profes- sor’s son. The two fellow's had been rivals ever since the time when they had struggled for the same position on the foot-ball team and Dexter had been victorious. Notwithstanding the fact that Kirby was one of the most brilliant stu-

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 7 Just as the music for the first dance com- menced, to the surprise of all her friends, Agatha and Mr. Lane stepped forward and Colonel Ran- dell formally announced their betrothal. Then the music commenced again and the dance be- gan. During the interval after the dance, Lane and Agatha were resting by the door leading to a side veranda. He was admiring and flattering Agatha, who surely was worthy of all he said, in her rose-colored gown with white throat and shoulders just visible, when he noticed an odd- looking man in the ray of light, reflected from the room. The man was haggard and brown even in so dim a light. As soon as Lane saw him, the man on the steps disappeared, and, not caring to disturb Agatha, he did not mention the iucident. The evening passed quickly and all seemed as happy as the hostess. George Lane had pleased Agatha exceedingly and she wondered if any of her friends had had a more agreeable com- panion that evening. But he was returning to his own home in the morning and what should she do without him? If only he hadn’t talked so of Miles,—and, as she thought of him, the love of her girlhood for Miles Leigh appealed more strongly to her than all the homage and flattery of Mr. Lane. Then, came the thought of the utter hopelessness of loving him, for had he not died long ago in some northern prison ? III. June came in Virginia with all the splendor and beauty of the preceding year. Roses fairly hid the southern mansion of Colonel Randell and the air was heavy with the sweetness of their perfume. Nothing could compare with tin love- liness of this day. thought Agatha, as she sat on the steps in the early morning. In her hand, was a letter from George Lane, which she was about to open. She was startled to find neither the writing inside nor the signature was his. It read: “My dear Miss Randell:—lam the surgeon who is attending Mr. Lane in his present illness, and consider it necessary to inform you what he said in his delirium last night. It was to the ef- fect that he was marrying you merely for money, and that his hatred for a Mr. Leigh had led him to do this. I also learned that Mr. Leigh is at home and is kept from seeing you only by your engagement to Mr. Lane. I have written the same facts to Mr. Leigh. “lain,—” Naturally, this letter was a great shock to the girl, who had been anticipating her lover’s com- ing on the next day, but with the shock she felt an overwhelming sense of relief. She had thought she loved him—evidently she did not. Agatha’s surprise was still greater to see a horse- man in a grey uniform, which had seen long, hard service, approaching at a gallop. Miles Leigh dismounted eagerly and ran up the steps. Agatha’s brown eyes seemed to satisfy the question in his. Anyway, the roses seemed per- fectly satisfied as they nodded wisely at one an- other. D. J. S., ’ll. cfi o o Jones’ Theory Rudolf Asticot Jones had a theory. It was an entirely new one that he had worked up himself and therefore it must be good. TIis theory was that people at heart are good; that if a person be- comes contaminated, it is because of outside in- fluence; that impulses come directly from the heart and therefore must be good. From these statements Jones concluded that if every person acted on his first impulse, the moral advancement of this planet would be more rapid. One fine October morning Jones at last re- solved to put his theory to a practical test for a few days, and prove it conclusively to his own satisfaction and also to his wife’s who was, as

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 9 dents in college, lie was greatly disliked. Unfor- tunately, he made no secret of his hatred for the popular foot-ball captain. When Dexter had surprised everyone by be- ginning to work hard, his room-mate, Richard Churchill, followed the good example, set by his friend and the social life at Princeton saw them no more, to the great delight of Kirby. II The weeks flew by swiftly. Dexter had takeu all his exams but chemistry, which was the hard- est of all. At last the much dreaded morniug dawned. Phil slept late and when he awoke Churchill was nowhere to be seen. Jumping up hurriedly, he glanced at his watch. “Why! I’ve only ten minutes in which to get to my exams. Dick must have gone.” Not seeing his own coat he snatched up one of Dick’s, which lay over the back of a chair, slipping into it as he ran across the campus. Just as he breathlessly reached the door of the chemistry room, Phil collided with Kirby, who seemed to be waiting for some one. Hastily apologizing, Dexter entered the room, which was already filled with students. Glancing around him, he looked for his room- mate and perceived Dick at the farther side of the room, busily searching for something in his pockets. At this moment, Professor Kirby entered the room with cat-like tread. Everyone became all attention, waiting for his first words. lie began, “The examinations must be written in ink. Those written in pencil will not be accepted.” Then he passed out the type-written list of ques- tions to each student. Upon receiving his, Dexter looked them through and through dazedly. At that instant all the chemistry, which he had studied so hard for the past few weeks, left his mind and to save himself Phil could not answer a single question. Involuntarily, he thrust his hand into his coat pocket. What was that? His fingers closed over an object which was hard and smooth. Not thinking what he did, Phil drew it forth. In his hand lay a long, octagonal pencil, the sides of which had been scraped bare and were covered with finely written chemistry formulae and sym- bols, the exact information which he needed. What could it mean ? How had he come by that pencil ? At that instant a heavy hand was laid upon Phil’s shoulder and the disagreeable voice of the Professor said, “Dexter, what are you doing with a pencil? The exam must be written in ink.” Phil started nervously and with a scarlet face he thrust the pencil back into his pocket, won- dering how he could account for its presence. “Nothing,” stammered the startled fellow. The Professor glanced at him in surprise. Then an incredulous expression passed over his face as he perceived the startled look in Dex- ter’s eyes. “Give me the pencil,” commanded the Professor. Hesitatingly, Phil handed it to him. After examining the pencil carefully, the Pro- fessor said in the hardest of tones, “I am great- ly astonished, Dexter, you may go to the dean.” “But the pencil does not belong to me,” re- plied Phil, and his voice sounded hoarse and un- natural. A sinister expression passed over the profes- sor’s face. “Tell that kiud of stories to the dean,” he answered. This last remark aroused the anger of the greatly puzzled lad. “Very well,” he answered. With his head held high in the air and a defiaut expression in his eyes, Dexter strode from the room, followed by the professor. When they reached the dean's office the pro- fessor told the story ending with, “He says that the pencil is not his.” The dean looked sorrowfully at Phil, who was one of his favorites and said, “My boy, I cannot believe that you would cheat. Surely there must be some mistake. What have you to say for yourself?” “All I can say,” Dexter haughtily replied, “is that the pencil is not mine.” As he was about to continue a terrible thought flashed through his mind. He was wearing Churchill’s coat, and when he had entered the room that morning his room-mate had been busily searching for some- thing, which he did not seem to find. Could it be possible? Churchill a cheat? Never. Then