Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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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

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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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THE GOLDEN-ROD 13 afraid I’ll have to disappoint you. This is my dog. He’s a beauty, isn’t he? Such a cunning little thing, though he’s very mischievous. I’m so sorry that you’ve last your dog.” Jack felt puzzled. That was most certainly his dog. Why under the sun did the girl want to claim it? Then he became a trifle indignant The idea of her claiming his dog in this cool fashion. “But, Miss Arden, there is some mistake. That is surely my dog.” he said stiffly. The girl’s chin went up, and she looked at Jack with heightened color. “Mr. Standish, you are hardly doing a gentlemanly thing. You claim this dog, inferring that I am not telling the truth. The dog is. without question, mine. I shall have to bid you good-afternoon.” Then, still carrying the innocent cause of the dispute, she walked indignantly away. Scowling. Jack walked back to the house. He too, was angry. ‘ ‘ What do you suppose possessed that girl to act like that?” he muttered. “It’s incomprehensible! She appeared to be such a nice girl, and she certainly is pretty. And she claims my dog. I can’t very well enforce my claim—at least, 1 don’t want to. If she were only a man. Lord! these women. What made her do it?” » The next day Jack arose with a fixed purpose in his mind. He had been extremely rude. That girl would never have claimed Bill without some good reason, and, whatever it was, he was ready to accept it. Now he was going to Miss Arden to o “Jack,” said my father out of a temporary silence at the dinner table,” Jack, do have a piece of pie!” It was Sunday and as bleak and desolate a day as ever I remember. Out of doors the wind howled and shrieked and hurled the falling leaves hither and thither, a desolate accompaniment to the falling rain. Within doors, my father, Jack, make an apology for his rudeness, and to offer her the dog. if only she would forgive him and take it. He went to tin library, but what a sight met his eyes! Magazines were chewed and tattered, the inkstand was overturned, the cushions were in ribbons, and in one corner, a silky black bundle of mischief was worrying Jack’s derby. Jack snatched up the pup. “You little nuis- ance. you ought to have your neck wrung! You blamed little trouble-maker? Now you’re going to be given away. You’re a disgrace, but I’m not going to let Miss Arden think I’m such a cad.” He tucked the squirming handle under his arm and hurried toward his neighbor’s home. As he mounted the steps, he saw Miss Arden sitting at the farther end of the piazza. He hur- ried toward her. and was about to speak, when something she held attracted his attention. He looked at it, stupified, and gasped, for the “some- thing” was Bill. No, not Bill, for he himself was holding that little wretch. But this was certain- ly Bill’s double. This, then, was the explanation of the trouble. Jack began to laugh—laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks. Miss Arden looked up startled, then saw Bill, the First, and she, too. went into a helpless gale of mirth. When they had both ceased laughing from utter weakness, Jack held out his hand. “I’m sorry to have been such an idiot,” he said, “Won’t you forgive me? I think we can be the best of friends now.” And Miss Arden seemed to think it highly probable. D. D. ’ll. my oldest brother, Esther and Carrie, the twins, Nan, and last, but not least I myself, were gathered around the dining room table on the aforesaid Sabbath day, in the month of Decem- ber, 19—. Well, never mind, I never could re- member dates. “Jack,” my father repeated, “some pie?” But Jack was not favorably disposed toward Just Pie