Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

Page 8 text:

G THE GOLDEN-ROD were to meet. The other was a letter from the President notifying him of a directors’ meeting to be held on the first Monday of the new year and asking him to be present. Questions piled thick and fast on his mind. Should he attend the ball? Who was going to be there? Would anyone recognize him? Why was he notified of the directors’ meeting, and why was he asked to be present? Then he looked at the calendar,—ten days to get to New York and buy some decent clothes. He wrote his acceptance of the invitations, and the next day left for New York. At the ball. Duane appeared as a tall, good-looking man of between twenty-five and thirty years of age who desired to keep himself and spend most of his time in the smoking room with the men. Duane kept himself absolutely away from the ladies, and when his host chided him with being afraid of women, he answered, “I can’t dance, and I am not much of a talker, so I would be a bore to any of them; and I guess they are just as well satisfied with my keeping away.” But Duane had been noticed more than he thought, and he had caused many a pretty head there to wonder why his eyes were so hard. Some laughed and jokingly said he was a woman-hater. Not until he was back in his room at the hotel without anyone’s recognizing him did Duane breathe an easy breath. At the directors’ meeting, he was in- formed that he had been called there because the plans that he had drawn of a bridge, that was to be built across the Colorado river at a point near Yuma, Arizona, had been judged the best and that he was to be given charge of the construction. Duane asked that his assistant should be the one to meet any visitors or in- spectors that might come; that to the people around Yuma this assistant should be the one in charge; and that the fact of Harold Duane's being there should not be known. Though these requests seemed strange, they were granted and in the light of later events it was shown that Duane couldn’t be blamed. At the bridge he showed an extraor- dinary knowledge of the surrounding country that could not be gained in any way except that of daily contact for years. But he gave no explanation, and the others knew better than to ask him, though in the cabin at night when Duane was away, they often talked it over. Duane shunned all visitors and never went into town, but often when the work was going well he would saddle his horse and ride off into the desert, the other side of the river. The work went on rapidly because Duane had foreseen all hitches and had prepared for them. One afternoon, while directing some men where to put in extra braces, Duane heard a call and, turning around, he saw standing on a knoll about a hundred yards distant a vision of loveli- ness—Spring, Youth, and Love incar- nate, all incorporated in the slender body of a young lady of uncertain age. Suffice to say, she was under thirty and over sixteen. As she stood there on the knoll, the descending rays of the western sun outlined her body so that to Duane she appeared a goddess or a wood nymph or the queen of the fairies, before whom he should fall down and worship in the manner of the ancients. Then she started down the knoll toward him, and he stood and watched her come, forgetting that he did not want to be seen, forgetting that it was a woman who four years before had caused that grey mask to grow on his face, had caused the hard look in his eyes, had

Page 7 text:

THE GOLDEN-ROD 5 REGENERATION As Duane sat there before the open hearth with the firelight playing on his long, lithe body, his eyes were strangely softened. Duane’s eyes in the presence of others were steely grey, hard, and metallic. But now, they were softened as though he was dreaming of other and happier days. To his superiors, Duane was simply an expert engineer who solved the hardest problems with an easy disregard of their difficulty. It was as though he disdained any or all problems, as though his was a brain that could solve any problem with little effort. To his men, Duane was a driver who worked himself harder than he worked them, a driver who compelled their ad- miration and respect. To the people with whom he was ac- quainted, Duane was a mystery. He seemed to have no friends and to make none. The only companion he had was an Indian servant. Duane also seemed to have a strange fear of women. He would have nothing to do with them, and as far as it was in his power, no woman was allowed on the construction on which he was at work. It was very noticeable, that the men he chose as his assistants were all unmarried men of mature years. The men tried to make up a past for him, but he would never talk and he never dropped any hint as to his past. All that the men of the company knew was this: Four years before, Harold Duane had appeared at the office of the North Amer- can Construction Company and asked for a position as engineer,—and got it. (It was noticeable that what Duane went after he got.) Duane was sent to Argentina to help on a large reservoir which the company was building there. By his brains and hard work Duane advanced until finally he became assis- tant to the engineer in charge. When the head engineer was taken ill and ordered north, Duane was given com- plete charge of the construction and finished the work months ahead of the contract time, thereby making money for his company. When he reached the States, he was sent to a dam that the Company was constructing in the Red Valley. Here he was to have entire charge, the engi- neer who had been in charge returning to New York. Here Duane is found. As he sat there before the fire, he looked strangely like a boy who, after a hard day of playing, had eaten his sup- per and now was resting and dreaming before the open hearth. A knock came at the door, and Duane’s expression changed. Over his face came a cold, grey mask, and his eyes grew hard. “Come in,” his voice was cold as though it was ice. “All right, Mr. Duane,” answered the man. “I just brought up a couple of letters; they have been down to the office a week, and you didn’t call for them, so I brought them up.” “Thanks,” laconically replied Duane, “but I wasn’t expecting any mail from the company for another week.” “These aren’t company letters; they aren’t in company envelopes anyway.” “All right, thanks.” “Good night, Mr. Duane.” “Good night.” And after the man had left, “Who could have written me? I have no friends, and surely none of my old ones know where I am. Well, there is only one way to find out.” He opened one of the letters. It was an invitation from the wife of the President of the company for a ball to be held on Christmas Eve and to which all the engineers in the employ- ment of the company were invited and at which the directors and the engineers

Page 9 text:

THE GOLDEN-ROD 7 caused him to disappear from home and friends. As she walked toward him, he wondered who she was, why she was there alone, and why Ralph, his assis- tant, had not stopped her from coming down where he was. And then he re- membered that Ralph had gone into town that day. “Hello, Mr. Duane,” called the vision. “Why, hello,” answered Duane. “But may I ask what you are doing here alone, twenty miles from town and night com- ing on? And how did you know my name?” “One at a time, please,” replied the vision. “First, I am not alone; Brother Ralph is back in camp with Mother, Dad, and Ralph’s fiancee.” Here she made a face. “And for as knowing your name, I made my brother tell me who was really in charge here because I know his shortcomings and that he hasn’t brains enough to be the chief on such a large job as this; and I should think that he would make a very poor assistant.” “On the contrary, he makes a very good one and I should be lost without him.” “No, you wouldn’t,” said Miss How- ard. “You just said that to be nice. You see I know my brother and of what he is capable.” Then, as a curious look came into her eyes, “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?” she questioned. “Not that I know of. At any rate I can say that I never saw you before. If I had, I am sure I couldn’t have for- gotten such a blessing. No, I don’t think we were ever acquainted.” “I know we were not acquainted,” re- plied Miss Howard, “but I do think I have seen you before, and yet I don’t re- member ever having heard of anybody by the name of Harold Duane—still—I have it! Your name is Harold Duane Starr. You graduated from Tech about five years ago and had a position with the Southern Construction Company. “You were trusted with some very important papers which somehow dis- appeared. It was claimed that you sold them to a rival company. You were disgraced. When James Carrol was given your position, you disappeared.” A look of astonishment swept over Duane’s face as he admitted the truth of her statements with a sinking heart. He added, “Now, you see why it is given out that your brother is the chief here.” “What! don’t you know that your name has been cleared and your noble act had been known for over a year in Yuma?” “They have found out what actually happened to the papers? They know the whole story?” “Yes. About eighteen months ago James Carrol was taken sick and in his delirium he told the whole story of Marion Cartwright’s duplicity, of his scheming, and of your noble attempt at keeping the shame from Marion’s name.” “But how did you recognize me so quickly?” queried Duane. “I saw a picture of you once, and just now I picked up this as I was walking down here.” And she held up a little leather bill fold with the letters H. I). S. inscribed upon it. Duane made a hasty movement and felt of his inside coat pocket for the bill fold he always kept there, but it was gone and this girl was holding it up for his inspection. Laughing, she handed it to him. “Yes, you lost it and here it is.” All unnoticed by the two, it had grown dark and the workmen had gone back to camp. “I think you had better be returning to camp or Ralph will think you are lost,” said Duane at last. “Aren’t you coming, too?” asked Miss Howard. “I am afraid I shall not be able to find the way back, alone in the dark.”