Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 13 the wheel. It’s nothin’ atall to get one o’ these here locomobiles goin’ if you know what brakes to step on, but as much as I knew about horses 1 couldn’t make the thing move. After some hot words an’ decided actions, my heart jumps wildly as I feel it start.” There was a pause now. The man, after twenty-five years, still found humor in his foolish experience. We waited, almost breathless. ‘‘As Ma’s flower patch was direct in front o’ my beast o’ burden there was nothin’ to do but letter go, which I did. You kin imagine what was left o’ Ma’s sweet peas and nasturtiums! In my heart there was jest one thought,—how do I stop the thing? Over a broad meadow and into a corn field went my flivver, me hatless and coatless tryin’ to stop her. For some unheard of reason, the pesky Ford took to the high- way. Mis’ Black’s white hens was in the road o’ course, an’ ye oughter seen ’em scatter. In every winder o’ every house was at least one person; men in the hay fields stopped work to look. Jes’ the same they had to hand it to me for speed. “By this time things were gettin’ serious. I’d gotter run up against some- THE After Major Prescott passed from this world to the next, there was little for which his young son could be happy. In fact, all the father left was a few hun- dred thousand dollars and the Prescott “Mansion.” No wonder Edmund’s childhood was an unhappy one. He en- vied the other little boys (with whom he was not allowed to play) and vowed that some day he would run away and do just as he pleased. When Edmund was in the early twenties, he entered a New York col- thin’ soon. At this instant I sees a form at the bottom o’ the hill. It was fat an’ roun’ an’ ploddin’. Instant I recognizes it as the man who brung me that offspring of Henry Ford. ‘Ef I kin grab him he may stop this ding- busted varmint’, thinks I. So as I speeds along, I jest grabs him by the collar only to loose hold an’ drop him again, face downward. Leavin’ the man, or rather fat piece o’ humanity, to shift fer hisself my machine goes on. “Who was the poet who said, ‘And here is another turn in the road’ and so forth? Well anyway I comes to one at this time. My car wasn’t simply fol- lerin’ the road; it was goin’ in a straight line, come what might. It happened that by the road was a stone wall and there stopped the prodigal Ford. “Exhausted, I fell into the seat moppin’ my face. Suddenly I hears a auto approachin’. Up the dusty road comes a big grey roadster. As she draws nearer I sees the objec’ o’ my dreams settin’ with a army lieutenant. Heaven was just when it made them look at each other instead o’ at me. “After that I left Fords an’ grass widders be.” —Therese Dunbar, ’20. SCAR lege. Here he made the acquaintance of an honest, upright young man, name- ly, Allan Richards. There was a great deal of difference between the two young men. Richards was not strong and, therefore, could not participate in the outdoor sports in which the wild nature of his chum delighted. Nevertheless, their love for each other was sincere and earnest; and the influence which Allan had over Edmund was remarkable. Indeed, it was this friendship and in- fluence that kept the latter from getting

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12 THE GOLDEN-ROD TOLD BY THE CAMP-FIRE The wind sighed gently through the pine grove; shadows cast by the fire danced hither and yon, like grotesque forms; above a silvery crescent threw wan, pale beams to earth, and a few stars dotted the cool blue bowl of the sky. In the near-by pine an owl hooted; little woodland animals peered from trees and underbrush, trying to fathom this trespassing. Still no one spoke. So I was back again in my native state! It was in September of 1945 after twenty-five busy, happy, yet slightly home-sick years, and I was once more in Maine, the Pine Tree State. Finding my little home town so changed, I had taken a party of friends and, with an old native as guide, found a place still unchanged,—the northern shore of the Penobscot river. For three happy, blessed days I had forgotten all affairs of business and with my girlhood pals dwelt once more in blissful Arcady. To-night no one seemed conversation- ally inclined. I sat between the two girls with whom I had shared my girlish joys and sorrows. Ah! was it twenty- five years since last we met? In my eyes they were still girls. A sudden, persistent hoot from that owl awakened our guide with a start. He glanced through his bushy eyebrows, then settling comfortably on his blanket said, “I’ve jest been thinkin’ ’bout old times. Us here together has kinder turned back my mind. Ye know, I kin remember when you gals was little tow- headed tods.” Here he stopped with a far-away look in his faded old eyes. “Oh, Mr. Perkins, do tell us something to cheer us up,” I pleaded, for I felt sorely in need of some cheering in- fluence. “Well, what I was thinkin’ of was way back in 1919 when hobble skirts, flivvers, and that wiggly jazz stuff was pop’lar.” The firelight played on his aged face, revealing a jovial smile. “I begun to think o’ getting a second wife an’ o’ course I didn’t want no old hen; in fact, I wanted a chicken. They was planty of ’em in the village so I starts plannin’ a conquest. I gets my eye on a young grass widder, a real chicken, with hair which became blond on very short notice, hobble skirts, three inch heels, an’ a drug store complexion. She shore knew how to mix paints, did that un. Oh, I nigh forgot to mention the crittur’s eyes. They was big an’ innercent, jest the color o’ this here sky to-night,—and oh, how she could wobble ’em.” A gale of laughter now rose from the group about the fire. “A real baby vamp,” came from some one. “We used to have those things back in T9.” “The first fool thing I does is to get one o’ them things invented by Henry Ford for the destruction o’ the human race,” continued old Perkins. “I’d hern say if anything could get a fella a gal, it was a flivver. You know the sayin’, ‘There’s no fool like an old fool.’ Well, that was me all over. Here I was most forty-five, crazy over a widder which was considered young, an’ doin’ every fool thing possible. But as I was sayin’, I bought the Ford. I had rode consid- erable with a fella in his’n an’ I jest knew I could drive without no trouble. “Well, in due time the thing arrived, steered by a man so fat he looked like a elephant in a baby carriage. He got his money and waddled off leavin’ me feelin’ the animal over to see if she is spavined. “Dreamin’ of a sweet pink an’ white face, I cranked the blamed thing, which ain’t no job atall if you know how, which I didn’t. Howsomever, I got it hummin’ an’ still thinkin’ o’ Delicia I jumped to

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14 THE GOLDEN-ROD lost among the bright lights of Broad- way; for the longing for freedom had never left him. Many times he refused to attend midnight parties only because his faithful “pal” persuaded him to do so. This strong friendship lasted for more than four years and ended only when Allan died from a shock his weak heart could not withstand. His untimely death proved a severe blow to Edmund who was loved, and had loved for the first time in his life. Now, his last and only true friend was gone. Thus, friendless in the great city, with no home but the cheerless “Mansion,” he wandered down the path of life. Like many, many others, he discovered that it was much easier to go down than to come up. He tried to forget the death of his friend by indulging in both drugs and strong drink, but this only served to pull him lower and lower. He became a constant visitor in the “High Life Cafe,” and other places of low character. One night he was at the above men- tioned hotel eating and drinking with two chorus girls, who were so intoxicated they hardly knew what they were saying, when his merriment was interrupted by the sound of a highly refined voice. Looking up, he beheld a woman very heavily veiled. “Mr. Prescott, you do not belong here. Why are you letting your good family name fall to the dust? Get away from these silly, painted dolls and become of some use to the world.” One of the “dolls,” noticing Prescott’s sobered countenance, said in a baby voice, “Eddie dear, are you going to let her insult us like that?” The young man staggered to his feet, lifted his glass of wine, and, with all his strength, threw it into the face of her who had come to help him. The woman gave one cry and ran to the door. Six months later Edmund Prescott felt, for the first time in his life, what is was to be penniless. To be sure, he still had the “Mansion,” for there was a speck of pride left, even now. He was completely discouraged, both with him- self and the world in general. What was there in life worth living, anyway? He walked to a secluded corner of the park and pulled a revolver from his pocket. Just as he was about to bid adieu to the world, a hand grasped the weapon. It was quite dark, but he could distinguish the calm face of a young woman, “Be a man,” she whispered. “Don’t give up so easily.” He was so surprised that for a second he lost his power of speech. “If you are out of work,” she continued, “come with me and you can work on my war garden. Laborers are awfully scarce, you know.” He allowed himself to be led by the young woman to a car waiting nearby. What was going to happen next? Little did he care. Wasn’t he ready to end it all only a few minutes ago? Nothing mattered now. The car stopped in front of a large farmhouse. The girl ran to an elderly woman standing on the steps. “Mother, here is a young man who, I believe, is out of work. Please see that he is given enough to do.” During the weeks that followed, Pres- cott seemed to profit by his sudden transplanting. He thought a great deal about the girl who had saved his life and wished he could see more of her. June Parker, however, was so engaged in war work that she paid little attention to her new employee. In fact, she had never seen him face to face, since the night he was employed. For the first time in his life, Edmund worked hard and willingly. Many a time he would pause in his work and murmur, “She is just the kind of a girl I could love, but she wouldn’t even think of being a friend to a fellow with a past like mine.” One day while Edmund was coming from the “fields” he met June. How beautiful and lovely she was! He gasped as he noticed the left side of her face.