Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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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.” • • •

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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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12 THE GOLDEN-ROD Christmas night had come. The great concert hall was crowded, and a burst of applause broke forth as a girl stepped out on the stage, then all was quiet. The pianist struck a few soft chords, and then as the clear, sweet voice of the singer rang out in the words of a Christmas song, “Peace on earth, good will toward men,” the joy of the Christmas angels filled the heart of one gray haired man, who sat gazing at the singer with eyes dimmed with tears. II. M. P. ’ll. That Pup Jack Standish looked gravely at the puppy. “Now look here, Bill,” he said, “You’re a mighty cunning little tyke, but you’re not going to chew up my boot. It'll ruin your digestion, and I might possibly need my foot-wear again. A dog with your pedigree ought to have too much pride to do anything so foolish. Out you go!” He picked up the wriggling puppy and thrust him unceremoniously through the door. “Here, Hiram,” he called to the gardener,” keep an eye on this dog, will you? He’s alto- gether too valuable to lose, but I can’t stand him in the house. He’s a blamed nuisance.” Turning back to the library, he settled himself comfortably in the leather arm-chair. “Here’s hoping I’ll have a bit of time now to finish this story and my pipe,” he said, and soon became absorbed in his book. The story held his attention for only a short time. It seemed a shame to waste such a beauti- ful afternoon indoors. Suddenly he thought of Bill. “Guess I’ll go and get my dog,” he thought, “Hope Hiram’s taking good care of him. I’d hate to lose that pup.” With this he hurried out of the room. However, upon reaching the lawn, no puppy was in sight. Hiram was grubbing away in the flower-bed, and, when Jack anxiously inquired for the canine, he looked up, much surprised. “ Wall, Mr. Jack, yew don’t say thet that tliar dorg’s a-missin’? I took a lot o’ pains to fix him up in the carriage-house. Have yew looked tliar?” Jack hurried to the spot, but no puppy ap- peared. He was worried, for it was a very easy matter for that wriggling mite to lose itself. He was rather angry that Hiram should have al- lowed the dog to escape. “I’ll search the grounds, and if I can’t find him. I’ll put an ad in the paper immediately,” he said. Starting out, he covered every inch of the ex- tensive grounds, becoming more vexed at each step. Of course the puppy was too young to know him for its master. And he would have been such a valuable bird-dog. Anyone could see that. By this time, he had reached the low stone- wall which formed a boundary between his estate and the one adjoining it. Looking over, Jack was astonished to see a girl coming from the house. “Huh! here’s a surprise,” he said. “I thought the house was to be vacant this season. That must be Miss Arden, though. Wonder if she’s seen anything of my dog. I’ll wait a sec- ond and ask her.” The girl came toward the great oak-tree, evi- dently bent upon spending a quiet afternoon in reading or sewing in the pleasant shade. She carried a cushion, a book and something small and black. Jack looked at the latter object curi- ously, then gave a sigh of relief. It was Bill. What a lot of trouble he was saved! He vaulted over the wall, walked toward the girl and raised his cap. “I beg pardon, but isn’t this Miss Arden? I’m your neighbor, John Standish, and I’ve just been hunting for that pup. I’m glad you’ve found him. Saves me a great deal of trouble.” The girl looked at him in a surprised man- ner, then smiled. She was a mighty pretty girl, Jack thought. Self-possessed, too. Her chin showed that, though her mouth was soft and sweet and red. and her eyes were wonderful, so big and dark. “Your puppy, Mr. Standish? Oh! no, I’m