Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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4 7' b e Golden - Rod Lot no. 40, White Pine Cemetery,Case no III, Skeleton no. 5.” What did it all mean? I sat there thinking when his voice came again slowly and feebly, almost in gasps. “Replace them all. I die in peace.” At the close of this he sank back on the pillows. His life had departed from his body. Thus died Aaron Moore. I sawr it now. It was his dying wish to have all the stolen bodies re-interred in their first resting places. They were all in the laboratory, numbered, and these papers were as a key to their names and burial places. I left the papers in the hands of the police who with their untiring efforts have been able to replace all of the bodies with the exception of one or two. As to Aaron Moore, he was buried in the dead of night, by the light of torches, amid the weired chants of a band of men who had helped him in securing the skeletons and to whose secret society he had belonged. Fred’k Franc Johnson. THE PRICE OF TURKEY. “It’s perfectly outrageous!” cried Belle Simmons, scanning the poultry price-list the week before Thanksgiving. “Twenty-eight cents a pound for dressed turkey! Why that would be four-twenty for a fifteen-pound bird! “How much,” asked Mary, “is an undressed •j»» one. “It certainly ought to be less expensive. I think I’ll get one. We must have turkey!” “Now don’t do anything rash,” warned Cousin Helen, who was chaperoning the temporarily orphaned household. “You know, Belle, you get along very well as long as you cling to ordinary rules. It is when you give your fancy full rein that you come to grief. Yes, I know that an old maid schoolma’am doesn’t know much about house- keeping, but— Four months before this Mr. Simmons and his wife had gone to Baltimore. It really seemed to Mrs. Simmons that two girls, aged respectively fifteen and eighteen, although they did not know7 the least thing about cooking, should be able to keep house, with Cousin Helen as chaperon. It was true that Cousin Helen knew absolutely nothing about cooking, that Belle’s experiments usually re- sulted very badly or very well, and that Mary was a haphazard young lady, who cooked very well if she happened to re- member that she had a meal to prepare—but she seldom remembered. However, Mr. and Mrs. Simmons had promised to return the night before Thanksgiving,. “I’m not going to pay twenty-eight cents a pound for turkey,” said Mary. “It is too much. Besides, I promised not to be extrav- agant. Let’s take a car this afternoon,” said she, cook-book open before her, “and seek our bird in his natural haunts.” So the girls and Cousin Helen set forth. Farmer White was sorry, but he had sold the only bird he had succeeded in raising. Farm- er Johnson was likewise grieved. So wrere several other poultry-raisers. Benjamin Pratt said he didn’t know; that he had had a few' turkeys; that perhaps there was one or two left. “Well, can’t you find out?” demanded Cousin Helen, tired of the quest. “Well, mebbe I could, mebbe I couldn't. Nowr there’s Daniel Boone. If I could man- age to catch him or Marthy Washington, I’d sell either of ’em for two dollars.” “Perhaps you can let us know' by Tuesday,” returned Belle overjoyed at the new turn of affairs. “I will,” promised Benjamin Pratt. “But if I don’t you’d better not wait; catching Marthy is work for a day.” “This trip has cost us ninety cents,” said Belle, “but w7e shall have saved money if we get ‘Martha’.”

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The Gold e n - R o d 3 had not been walking long before Moore be- came quite fatigued and was glad to rest on one of the garden benches. As he sat down he drew from his pocket a small pamphlet and was soon busily pondering over it, while I sat beside him gazing about until my eyes fell upon what seemed to be a small vault in the stone wall. The hinges I noticed were nearly rusted away although the door itself was heavily chained and padlocked. What was such a thing there for ? I refrained from asking Moore the question, for I thought without a doubt it concealed something of importance. So many things, strange and unaccountable, were connected with his life that it was well for me not to disturb him with this matter. We entered the house by a rear door that led into a spacious hall surrounded by a gallery where the walls were adorned with the rarest of paintings, the subjects of which would seem strange to the average person. They were such as, The Vanquished Ghoul, Terror of the Night, The Mystic Way, all symbolic of his character. The statuary that lined the main floor was of marvelous workmanship but of subjects simi- lar to the paintings, ghastly and phantastical. I remained with Moore for the night and in the morning we wrent to his laboratory which occupied the entire floor of one wing of the house. Here he spent his days ponder- ing over musty books that were piled high upon the benches that extended from one end of the laboratory to the other. Retorts, large and small, smoked and fumed on the tables; bottles of acids and chemicals stood ready to be compounded into that wonder- ful mixture which was to form a being un- known to man; cases of bones and skeletons lined the walls. The atmosphere was all but pleasant. It was here he worked day in and day out with perfect confidence that he would some day perfect a figure that would suddenly move, whose heart would throb, and whose brain would control its motions. The second night of my stay I noticed a sudden change for the worse in my friend’s condition. He would speak of nothing at the dinner table that evening and his face I thought looked more wretched than I had ever seen it. It was evident that he wras now on the verge of a breakdown. I had just turned down the light and drawn the curtains about my bed prepared for a well deserved sleep when some one rapped heavily on my chamber door. I found it to l)c Moore’s valet. He w:as so overcome that he could hardly speak, but finally managed to say that Moore was acting qucerly and con- tinually asking for me. I hastened to his room where I found his apparently lifeless form on the bed. A red light burned on the wall beside him, lighting up his countenance in a manner most grue- some. I stood beside him for a moment until his voice came slowly and feebly. I tried to catch the words which seemed to be “The vault! Someone to the vault!” At first I did not quite comprehend the meaning but then it occurred to me that it was that vault in the garden of which I had taken so much notice. I hastened out as I was. It was so dark that I could discern nothing. I groped about until finally my hand struck the cold surface of the door; but is was secure- ly locked. In my haste I had forgotten the keys. Remembering, however, that the hinges were rusted, I grasped the door firmly in my hands and wrenched until it gave a little; one hinge snapped and then the other, and the door fell with a crash to the pavement below. I searched about in the bottom of the vault with my hands un- til I struck something that seemed to be a bundle of notes. I drew it out and hastened into the house. Cautiously I opened Moore’s door expect- ing to find him dead. I was mistaken. He was nearing death to be sure, but a spark of life still smoldered within him. As I entered, he regained sufficient consciousness to mutter a few' unintelligible words, which I inter- preted to mean that I was to read the notes. I undid the cord and placed the papers upon the table. The first began: “Icabod Tyler,

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I b e Golden- R o d 5 Tuesday arrived. The turkey, however did not. Undismayed Belle announced, “I'm going to Oakville. I’ve seen several crates of live turkeys in the stores there.” After a great deal of hunting on Belle’s part, she succeeded in purchasing a turkey for two dollars and a half. ‘‘Send it,” said the young girl, delighted with her bargain, “to James Simmons, Ash- ton.” “Pardon me,” said the store man, “but we never deliver—.” “If you’ll deliver it aboard the car,” said Belle with determination. “I’ll carry it home.” The conductor demurred at the sight of such a large box, but consented when Belle promised to pay a fare for it. As the car stopped quite a distance from the Simmons door, she had to hire a boy to carry the precious burden to her home. “Come out and see what I have,” cried Belle, bursting in upon her cousin and sister. Helen and Mary gazed at the bird. “What’s the matter?” demanded Belle, '1 haven’t bought a guinea-hen by mistake, have I?” “Come with us,” giggled Mary. On the back porch, neatly crated, was a second turkey. “It’s Daniel Boone,” exclaimed Mary. Then she explained to Belle how Mr. Pratt had sent it shortly after she had started on her hunt. “We must return one.” groaned Belle, “but we’ll save fifty cents by keeping Daniel —that’s one consolation.” Perpetual motion is solved at last. All wishing proof of this fact apply to Bogan. Mr. Paulson:—“The pressure on the bottom of the box on the scales is 1000 grams but the weight recorded is only 208 grams. What is the reason? George McDonald:—“The scales arc aw- ful liars.” The store man was not very particular a- bout taking back his bird; but he agreed that one bird, rising at daybreak to disturb the pleasant dreams of the neighbors, was quite enough for one back porch. The troubles had not ceased. Mr. Boone did not like his prison. He had a very long neck and made vicious darts at the girls with his beak. Worst of all, he would have to be killed. Several kind-hearted neighbors proved too kind-hearted in regard to the killing of turkey. Finally one man decided to undertake the task, but he soon thundered at the back door, and Belle went, shuddering, to inspect the results. “Say,” stammered the man, “that bird of yours has flown off.” “Without his head?” gasped Belle. “No, drat him, with it?” “Where is he?” “Up on the steeple of the church.” “How can we ever get him?” mourned Belle. “Mebbe you could coax him down with some corn.” Undaunted, the girls coaxed and coaxed, but all to no avail. Finally Belle snatched her hat and started off to the market to get a dressed turkey. To everybody’s relief the dressed turkey, which still required an a- mazing amount of dressing, arrived safely. “But,” confessed Belle, “turkeys have gone up.” “Never mind,” said Cousin Helen, consol- ingly, “they’re not as high as Daniel Boone.” Alice Hogan, ’15 Heard at the Newton Game:—“Say, look at the autos over on that side of the field.” “Yes. eleven autos and a Ford.” Pres. Barstow (at Debating Club):— “Don’t you think that the Income Tax Question would trouble us, Mr. Fuller?” Mr. Fuller: “It hasn’t troubled me very much.”