Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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6 THE GOLDEN-ROD Agatha’s Soldier of the Roses I The roses nodded at one another with an un- derstanding look as the light breeze stirred them, in their retreat over the great white pillars of the old Virginian mansion, while beneath them stood a young girl and, one or two steps below her, a man, a soldier in his shining grey uniform. They were not happy. In fact, both were decidedly miserable and were vainly postponing that last goodbye and trying to appear perfectly at ease. One long handclasp, a hurried “Remember, Agatha.” and the young soldier was gone, he and his horse appearing at intervals, as the winding drive revealed them. But he did not look back, for the blinding rush of tears to his eyes, as he thought that perhaps this was the last time, would have prevented his seeing her. Then quickly the great wide panelled door swung open and Hugh Randell came toward his sister. “Agatha, that young friend of mine. Mr. Lane will arrive shortly for a visit of several days and I hope you will enjoy entertaining him.” “Of course, Hugh. There is the carriage com- ing now. Excuse me until dinner time, please.” A few minutes before dinner Agatha went down to meet Hugh’s friend. She made a lovely picture as, all in white, she slowly descended the dark oaken staircase, her golden hair and dark eyes making a striking contrast. So thought Mr. Lane as he stood at the foot of the stairs with a rapt expression of admiration on his thoughtful countenance. At dinner he brought the conver- sation around to the war and its hardships and finally asked Agatha if she were acquainted with Miles Leigh, of the —th cavalry? Yes, she knew him very well. Was he a freind of Mr. Lane’s? Xo, but Mr. Lane would like a moment with Miss Randell later. Accordingly, when Hugh went to the Judge’s, Lane and Miss Randell made their way through the long shaded paths of the old-fashioned gar- den. with the hollyhocks and marigolds on either side, to the small green summer house. At once he took up the unfinished conversation concern- ing Miles Leigh. “My dear Miss Randell, I’m afraid you’ve been basely deceived. Leigh is no more than a common adventurer. I met him on ray way here engaged with a pretty young woman in Langdon. He has half a dozen girls’ hearts and I only want to save yours. I think you understand.” “But I don’t, Mr. Lane. Of course, all your insinuations are false and I do not wish to hear my friends abused.” “I ask your pardon if I appeared rude,” re- turned Lane. “Let us talk of a subject more in- teresting—yourself for instance, if I may be so presuming. You must know that I am already much interested in you.” I nfortunately. the subject had not the slight- est interest for Agatha and soon she escaped from his unwelcome presence. In about an hour, an anonymous letter in an unknown hand was brought her. As she read the letter, which advised her to beware of Miles Leigh’s charms as they were dangerous, she thought it strange that people were so consider- ate as to take notice of her affairs, and just a tiny spark of distrust of Miles Leigh, her soldier, thrust itself forward. It was foolish of her to heed such letters and warnings but the writer must know something about him. Therefore, when a letter, overflowing with trust, tenderness and love came from Miles himself, it was not re- garded with quite such loving eyes as had said goodbye to him a few days before. In the terrible battle of Bull Run, the southern army under Lee defeated General Pope. Both armies were horribly butchered, thousands killed, and many wounded. Among the last was Miles Leigh, who was picked up and carried to a northern hospital, where a wound confined him many weeks. From this time, Agatha Randell heard no more of him. II. It was the next May and the night of Agatha’s birthday dance. The large drawing-rooms were one mass of roses and even the candles had rose- colored shades, which cast a soft light on the love- ly rooms and costumes of the young girls.

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The Golden-Rod QUINCY, MASS., JANUARY, 1911 EDITORIALS At last the Quincy High is supplied with a much-needed lunch counter. Now it is possible for each one to have his choice of soups, sand- wiches, home made cake and pie, cocoa (with whipped cream and two graham crackers) or some special dish, all for the trifling sum of five cents each. Here’s to the lunch counter! May it live long and prosper! The matter of choosing a class motto has been lately brought to our minds. A class motto is, theoretically, a sentiment which should be the guiding star of each pupil’s existence. Accord- ing to the custom of the past, it has been chosen during the latter part of the senior year, when each one is so occupied with his own affairs that he has hardly time to become acquainted with the chosen words, to say nothing of living up to them. In this way, the motto is of absolutely no use, except to fill up space on the graduation pro- gram. It lies with you, undergraduates, either to remedy this absurd custom by choosing your mot- to now, or to do away with it altogether. We wish to extend a hearty welcome to Miss Nute, Miss Kirmaver, Miss Whitaker. Miss Whit- comb, Mr. Robinson, Mr. Smith, Mr. Fenner, Mr. Schoonmaker and Mr. Ray. Miss Perkins, our new instructor in music, has entered upon her work with such enthusiasm that we may expect a most excellent High School con- cert. One of our budding poets has written the words for a new school song, in response to Miss Perkin’s offer to adapt such words to music. This makes two school songs for a school of 700. More! More! All contributions, in the shape of stories, poems, essays and the like will be most gratefully received by the “Golden Rod.” These may be passed to Miss Nute or to your English teacher. We need your support. Show your school spirit by helping us to put out the best school pa- per possible! Pay your class dues! Can’t you—won’t you realize how much we need the money ? Also buy the “Golden Rod.” Buy two copies, and if you can’t use them yourself, send them to your rela- tives and friends. Here is another case where we need the money. Keep off the grass! The lawn shouldn’t be trampled upon any more, now that it is frozen, than when we came back to school in September, and were charged by Mr. Ilowlett to keep away from its emerald greenness.

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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