Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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10 THE GOLDEN-ROD the voice of the dean again came to his ears. “Have you nothing more to say for yourself? Are you sure that the pencil is not yours?” “No,” resolutely answered Phil,” I have no further explanation to make,” and to himself he added. “No one must ever know. I will never tell. Churchill is my best friend and he is her brother, even if he is a cheat.” “Very well, as you will not explain matters, you are expelled. I will notify your father im- mediately.” The voice of the dean trembled with sorrow, for he loved Philip Dexter and he could not believe him guilty of such an offence. Dexter slowly left the room. Ills first thoughts were of Catherine Churchill. What would she think of him ? She was lost to him forever, because he could never tell her that her brother was a cheat. These were the thoughts which filled his mind as several hours later the puzzled and misjudged foot-ball captain was on his way to meet an indignant father in New York. Ill Three years had passed by. One morning in June the large ocean liner, the Sea- Queen. glided out of her dock at New York. The decks were crowded with happy passen- gers, talking and laughing together. Apart from the rest and perfectly oblivious to every thing else, stood a young man, fondly looking into the eyes of a girl at his side. As they stood thus, a young fellow walked by. glanced at them incredulously, started, and finally walked back to where they were standing. Raising his hat he inquired, “Is this Mr. Philip Dexter?” Dexter for it was he, glanced up quickly, then bowed coldly as he recognized his old class-mate,Allan Kirby. Nothing daunted, Kirby continued, “I am very glad I have met you, Dexter, as I have something which I wish to say to you alone.” Greatly surprised, Phil looked down at the girl and as she nodded assent, the two men walked away together. “Of course you remember what happened to you three years ago and you also know how I have always hated you?” began Allan. “I think that all this is unnecessary. What interest can you have in the matter? I was expelled from Princeton for cheating, some- thing which I never did.” interrupted Phil. “No, I know that you didn’t. That’s just what I wish to explain, and I will, if you will promise not to harm me in any way,” very mys- teriously answered Kirby. Phil glanced at him in amazement. Then he replied. “You have my promise.” “Well then,” continued Kirby, “I put that pencil in your pocket.” “What?” gasped Dexter, taking a step to- wards him. “Yes,” answered Kirby. “I waited for you that day outside the chemistry-room. Don’t you remember how we collided in the corridor?” As Phil nodded, he continued, “As we did so, I slipped the pencil into your pocket, trusting to luck that you would be discovered with it during the exam and be expelled. Oil, by the way, I for- got, the night before the exams, when I was look- ing in my father’s desk for something I found the questions and answers. That was what prompted me to make the pencil.” Dexter’s face was white with rage. He took one step towards Kirby but Allan stopped him. ‘ ‘ Don’t forget your promise, ’ ’ he exclaimed. At this, Phil turned away and started to walk off. but Allen interrupted him in a mocking voice, “Say, Dexter, wasn’t there a girl in the case? I’ve always wondered what she had to say.” Dexter quickly turned and a happy smile spread over his face. “If it wasn’t for the fact that, that same girl and I are now on our honey- moon, I’d be tempted to break my promise, and throw you overboard.” With these words he left the astonished Kirby and walked back to where his wife was awaiting him. Arm and arm Mr. and Mrs. Dexter walked away. M. T. ’ll.

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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

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THE GOLDEN-ROD Herr Muellers Christmas It was Christmas eve in the great city and a crisp, cold night. Ilerr Mueller turned from the street and climbed the stairs to his rooms. A fire glowed on the hearth of the small sitting-room which he entered, and its light flickered on the walls. It was a comfortably, though simply furnished room. In one corner stood a piano, on which lay a violin. On the walls hung pictures of famous musicians, and the bookshelves beside the fireplace were filled with a musician’s books. As the firelight fell on Herr Mueller himself, it showed a man past middle life with a strong yet gentle face, which tonight was sad. He sat down in front of the fire and. picking up his evening paper, read again the notice in it. Concert of the Symphony Orchestra to be held Christmas night Assisting Artist—Miss Elizabeth Mueller Elizabeth Mueller ! His little Elizabeth! The paper dropped from his hands as his mind went back over the years. Twenty-five years ago, no, could it be as long as that? Yes, twenty-five years ago, he and his violin had left Germany and his fame had spread throughout Germany, and come to America, the land of promise. Already he had come to win fame and experience in America. He had studied and worked hard, and the papers all over the country had talked of the famous violin virtuoso. Then he had met Elizabeth Bradford, daughter of a proud New England family. He had been entertained by Miss Bradford, Elizabeth’s aunt, with whom she lived, and had grown to know and love Elizabeth. For her he had studied and worked harder than ever. When he played, he had played for Elizabeth. Finally a rude awakening had come. Although Miss Bradford had entertained him as a famous violinist, to en- tertain him as a lover for her niece was quite an- other thing. Elizabeth Bradford, daughter of a proud New England family, to marry a for- eigner, never! But Elizabeth had been broken- hearted, and so Miss Bradford had reluctantly consented to the marriage. How happy he and Elizabeth had been to- gether. Then had come little Elizabeth. He smiled to himself as he recalled all her pretty baby ways. There never was another baby like his little Elizabeth! And then, when Elizabeth was still a mere baby, the mother had left them. The pain had been almost unbearable, but he had loved the baby the more, for he still had her. Soon the aunt had come and offered her home and care to the baby. She had wanted to bring the baby up as she had done tin; mother, but had said that the child should have no knowledge of its father, at least until her death. It was a cruel condition. lie had tried to believe that the child should stay with him. but he had thought of all the advantages the aunt could offer, and how few he had for his child. With her aunt she would have a home, so the baby had been taken away, and he had been left alone. The famous violinist had suddenly dropped out of the knowl- edge of the world, and the world had at first wondered and missed him. but soon forgotten. From time to time he had received short letters telling of Elizabeth’s health and of her progress in her studies. Then the letters had begun to tell of Elizabeth’s singing and of her beautiful voice. When, a few years ago, he had begun to see ar- ticles in the papers about the girl, who was win- ning fame abroad with her wonderful voice, his heart had swelled with hope and high ambition for his daughter. A short time before he had re- ceived word of the death of her aunt. Now Elizabeth had come home, and tomorrow she was to begin her career in this great city of America where he had begun his. Why, tomorrow was her birthday, and she was. yes, twenty years old. He wondered if she knew about her father. The bell down stairs rang noisily. Herr Muel- ler started and awoke from his re very. Proba- bly some caller had come to see the landlady. He leaned forward and threw another stick on the fire. A gentle knock sounded at the door. He rose and opened it. and there on the threshold stood a girl. Another Elizabeth Bradford she seemed as she stood there, but eagerly she cried, “Father!” and his voice broke as he answered, “My daughter.” • • •