Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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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.”

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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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6 The Golden-Rod HOW MR. LEONARD’S MIND WAS CHANGED. “It’s outrageous,” cried Mr. Leonard, bringing his fist down with a bang on the table. “So this is the reason the young rascal is not going to be home to-morrow. Listen to this.” And Mr. Leonard began to read from the paper:— “ ‘An important change has been made in the Blackwood eleven. Leonard has been put in as full-back because of his good play- ing and will play tomorrow in the Thanks- giving game.’ “I’ll go up there tomorrow,” went on Mr. Leonard, “and bring Don home with me. We’ll see who’ll play full-back, whatever that is. Football is a brutal game and I shall not allow him to play it.” Early the next day Mr. Leonard took a train packed with college boys, men, girls and women, and heard everywhere so much talk about Leonard’s being such a “find” for Blackwood that he became quite elated over it. As soon as he got inside the grounds he made his way to the Blackwood training quarters where he was immediatly confronted by the trainer. “Of course Don Leonard is here,” remarked the trainer, responding to Mr. Leonard’s query. “Tell him his father would like to see him.” “I’m very sorry but you can’t, before the game. I’ll give you a pass, though,” and he scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to Mr. Leonard. “You can see him after the game if there is anything left of him,” and with this cheery reply the door slammed, and Mr. Leonard went to his seat sputtering and growling. Soon the players came out and passed the ball to Don. who kicked it almost down the field. A great cheer went up for him, rousing the enthusiasm in Mr. Leonard’s breast and making him think that it might not be such a bad game after all. Soon the opposing team came on and then the din was terrific. The game begins. Don kicks off and tackles the opposing player who had dodged two of the Blackwood men. After getting the ball on downs, Don rushes it and gets the wind knocked out of him. Mr. Leonard, some- what upset over it, cries out, “Here! Who’s hurting my boy?” but when he sees him get up again, he cools down. Later in the game a kick made by Don is blocked and a touch- down is made by the opponents, who fail to kick a goal; and the score stands (i to 0. Now Don is used often, and as they line up near the stands Mr. Leonard sees blood on the boy’s face, but it does not seem to disturb him. There is but a minute to play now and if Blackwood does not score, they lose the game. The ball is snapped back to Don who punts, and the ends run down. The ball is fumbled by the opponents on their five-yard line, and a Blackwood end falls on it. A few seconds later Don is sent over the line for a touchdown and the excitement is intense. The great stands tremble with the shouts of the crowd and Mr. Leomard finds himself cheering in spite of himself. The ball is taken out for the kick . which is to be made from a difficult angle, and Don is to kick. On that kick rests the game. The crowd calms down, but Mr. Leonard can hardly sit still from excitement. Don advances forward but stops to adjust the ball He starts again but stops for the same purpose. Finally he makes the kick and sends the ball directly between the posts, winning the game for Blackwood The crowd surges on the field and with great cheers carries the muddy, grimy, pale but de- lighted Don around the field and then to the locker room. Mr. Leonard, in his delight, seizes his boy in his arms and Don knows from the look on his father’s face that he has already changed his mind about the game of Football. Edward Taylor, T8.