Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

Page 9 text:

7 The Golden-Rod fall for an apron string?) When the kitten sprang, Marjorie was naturally surprised, and lost her grip on the pan of water. Need I bother to mention the splashes and clashes and shrieks? Of course the hero entered at this burst of music and, after the first shock, proved to be a very good sport. He ate the sadly de- ficient lunch with a gusto. But who minds greasy bacon, when he is noticing that the eyes of the girl across from him are exactly the color of the sky? They started house-cleaning again after lunch and the hero proved very helpful to Marjorie. He lugged pails of water back and forth, and groaned inwardly as he slopped it on his Sunday go-to-meeting suit. He tacked carpets and incidentally banged his thumb, and carried furniture around with such speed that several vases nearly met their doom. But Marjorie smiled, and he was happy. After supper they sat on the cool piazza and talked. I thought I saw him tuck in one of Marjorie’s fly-away locks, but please don’t forget that I am near-sighted, and besides, being very considerate of othei people’s feelings, didn’t dare stare too hard. But I am positive of one thing—that he caught the last train home, and had to run to catch it at that. Esther V. Bagg, 17. SPRING-VACATION. School was ended for a time; The Spring-vacation had begun, And from each doorway rushed the crowd Of boys and girls in quest of fun. Ahead of all dashed out our hero, Jimmy Jeremiah Brown, With a joyful, piercing war-hoop, That was heard all over town. Little dreamed the gleeful Jimmy Of the work so close at hand, But his head was filled with thoughts Of all the pleasures he had planned. But alas! through all the week, His heartless parents plans had laid For the cleaning of the household And the garden to be made. The whole “vacation,” Jimmy labored, Now with duster, now with mop. He polished chairs, and used the broom-stick From the cellar to the top. He pumped the vacuum-cleaner Till his arms well-nigh dropped off, And when he beat the mats and rugs, His friends came ’round to scoff. While his chums played ball in the field nearby, Jimmy sullenly plied the hoe. When they asked him to come on a fishing-trip, His reply was a wistful “No.” For the first time in all his life, Jim was glad when Sunday came, And his prayer of thanks for deliverance Would have brought a parson fame. In all this world, I am sure, No boy ever felt more happy and gay Than Jimmy felt, as he trudged to school, Bright and early, the next day. When our vacation-time in May Brings us the rest long-sought, We all do hope to ’scape the fate That fell to Jimmy’s lot. Hugh Nixon, 1917.

Page 8 text:

6 The G o I d e n - Ro d BOB’S RETURN. (A Monologue of a Bird.) As I was going to tell you before, 1 arrived here last week and it surely does seem good to get back, although I had a very fine vacation. The first place I visited was my birthplace at 65 Mapletree Avenue, a large three decker. It brought back to me sweet memories of past years. Yesterday I visited an old friend of mine whose name is Old Cy Peters. He lives up in the east end and has a very beautiful estate. I had a very delightful time talking to the different animals on the place and Old Cy Peter’s son, Henry. Henry was very glad to see me and called the attention of his folks to the fact that I had made a visit to them. My very devoted wife died during the vaca- tion. Yes, at a banquet given by Dame Nat- ure about a month ago at which we had a most enjoyable time, she ate something or other that she was not supposed to eat, and therefore died a few hours afterward. It is just like the women-folks doing something that they ought not to. Now 1 am looking for another wife. Fritter Jay introduced me to a pretty thing down on Orchard Place this morning. I passed the blue birds home this morning and I see that the stork had visited them, and had left a boy and three girls. They are going to call him Little Boy Blue, but I don’t see anything blue about him. From the way that he was sumptuously eating some worms, I could easily see most of the workings of his internal machinery. He didn’t have a feather on his body, yet they are going to call him Little Boy Blue. I had quite a hard time getting material for my nest. Although I could easily get mud, the hens were not in their yards, so I could not get feathers very easily. Oh! I forgot to tell you that we held the first rehearsal for the Grand Opera which we are planning to hold around the first of May, at four this morning. We are to hold it in Billy Crow’s Hall. I am to take one of the most important parts. Of course all the singers have not returned yet, but we expect them very soon. We should like to make this opera a grand success, and all are most cordially invited to attend. It will be worth your hearing. Russell L. Williams, T7. SPRING HOUSE-CLEANING. In the first place Mr. Jordan was absent- minded. If he hadn’t been, things would probably have happened quite otherwise than they did. As it was, he entirely forgot that his daughter had told him not to come home to dinner, as spring house-cleaning was in progress. Therefore, he not only came home himself, but had the remarkable fore- sight to bring a young business friend along with him. They almost missed the train, (wasn’t it a pity they didn’t?) and at the very time the train pulled forth the little house was in the very height of house-cleaning. Large pails of half-dirty water ornamented the parlor, and the furniture was piled high in one corner. The younger daughter, in the process of dusting the books, had scattered most of them around the floor at her feet. The elder, Marjorie (I have to give her a name because she is the heroine of the story,) was perched on an uncertain step-ladder, and, hanging onto a pan of dirty water with one hand, was diligently scrubbing the top shelf with the other. Absorbed in this she never noticed a sweet little kitten that was con- templating the fluttering end of her apron string. (Did you ever see a cat that wouldn’t

Page 10 text:

8 The Go Ide n- Ro d FATTY’S SPRING FEVER. How beautiful she was! Never had Fatty’s heart so nearly jumped out of his mouth, never had his eyes so narrowly escaped popping out of his head as when he had his fust glimpse of her. He pushed back his history book and fastened a hungry gaze upon the idol of his thoughts. She was a girl of quality and refinement. Her black hair fell in long glossy curls upon her graceful shoulders. Dark eye-brows spanned a smooth high brow, a slightly curved nose and a well-set mouth surmounted the oval of her chin. But the eyes were the most attractive of her whole countenance, sparkling pools of hazel color, that flashed superiority. Lenore Miles was her name. Her father, having been successful in business, had purchased Ben Harrison’s farm, to which he had retired with intentions of carrying out his former ambition—to run a farm. Lenore, much to her chagrin, had been compelled to enter the village school. At first, she had scornfully rejected any attempts at friend- ship, but soon she relaxed and became a treasure abounding in frolic and gaiety. She had especially aroused the hidden sentiments of Fatty and Sharky who became bitter rivals for her favors. Sharky had eliminated all other candidates by threatening “to knock the stuffin’s outer ’em.” Fatty had to be dealt with in another manner, since Sharky’s ability to include Fatty in his threat was doubtful. Fatty, having analized her fascinating appearance for the hundredth time, allowed his imagination to carry him still further and he began his chief diversion, building castles in the air. He pictured himself outdis- tancing all rivals for her affection except one, the lanky, contemptible Sharky. And when the fatal day came, she decided in Sharky’s favor and he left the village, leaving dire threats of suicide behind him. About this time his country was invaded by a foreign power and he responded to the call to arms. He rose in rank from a private to a com- mander through valiant and hazardous ser- vice. What a brilliant scene that last terrible battle made, in which he rode a spirited horse, leading his men into the thick of the battle! Sharky was killed while fleeing from his ranks. The enemy were finally driven out of the country, and he experienced his triumphant return to the village amid waving flags and cheering people. Then Lenore came, humbly asking forgiveness which he granted after a great deal of deliberation. Having become so popular, he was elected president with the divine Lenore as his wife. Now occured the last sad event. He fell sick and was attended by a dozen gray- whiskered doctors who gravely shook their heads. Lenore was constantly at his bed- side, soothing him with brave words or stroking his feverish brow. But as his chances of living grew slimmer, she did nothing but sob and whisper his name. Nevertheless he died, leaving Lenore with a broken heart and the nation mourning his expiration. Large tears ran down Fatty’s cheeks and splashed upon his desk. Suddenly his dreams violently exploded. The teacher was standing over him aiming rapid blows with a ruler on his knuckles. The whole class were tittering. “Samuel,” she exclaimed angrily, “you may stay after school and recite your history. Sleepy head!” Fatty reopened his neglected book and buried his burning face in the pages. So Fatty and Sharky were rivals, and Lenore seemed to enjoy their attentions and anxieties. But Fatty, not content with matters as they stood, resolved to have them decided. One day after school he approached Sharky and said, “We ain’t doin’ things right.” “Wal?” answered Sharky, quizzically.