Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 7 and when Betty and Buddy were able to be moved, Madeliene accompanied them to her home, to act as nurse until they were entirely better. Soon Betty and Buddy were able to walk in the garden. As the days passed slowly by, Betty began to be puzzled as she had been before she had left this land of roses. Buddy—he acted queerest of all. When he passed the room which was always locked he would stop and sniff, and then look puzzled. One day, as he and Betty were passing this room on their way to the garden, he stopped suddenly, sniffed—grasped the amazed Betty by the arm, and very ex- citedly exclaimed: “Rose! Rose! Now I know! Rose perfume!” Before astonished Betty could find an answer to this startling outbreak, he con- tinued: “My name is Bob—Robert Channing. My father is a New York dealer in per- fumes. Rose perfume—” At this interesting point, he was inter- rupted by the opening of the door of the locked room and Madeliene’s father fairly bursting out. With him came the most exouisite cdor of roses. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it! At last I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, rushing out to where Madeliene and her mother were picking roses in the garden. Betty stood speechless, not even won- dering to hear him speak in English. If he had suddenly soared into the air, and had blown into the garden, Betty, at this point, would not have been surprised or thought it out of the ordinarv. Mechan- icallv she followed him and Buddy to the garden. There, in due time, explanations were given. Madcliene’s father, an American scien- tist, bv the name of White, had been em- ployed by the Robert Channing Co., some twenty years before, to duplicate a rose perfume, the inventor of which had died without telling anyone his method of mak- ing it. A rival concern had offered bribes, and when Mr. White had refused, they had tried other methods, until to be able to work without being disturbed, he and his wife had gone to France. When they had been there long enough to get a good idea of the French language and customs they had settled down in this house to work, and to be known by the neighbors as a French family. Mr. White had never communicated with the Robert Channing Co., wishing to wait until he could bring them the much desired per- fume. Buddy, it seemed, was Robert Chan- ning. Jr. His father had shown him some of the precious perfume, and after one smell which he had never forgotten, he had decided to make a search for Mr. White, in hopes of finding, and being able to put the perfume on the market. He had afterwards gone to war, where he had received the wound which had blotted his memory. At this point, Betty glanced for the first time at Madeliene, and uttered a scream. “That locket!” she cried. “It is just like one my mother had!” “Your mother!” exclaimed Mr. White and his wife. “Yes! Yes!” cried Betty, “Mv sister was wearing it when they left for France.” “Your sister! then—then Madeliene is your sister! For she is not our own daughter, as we have given everyone to understand. When our boat was wrecked, a woman with a beautiful baby was one of the few saved with us. From the shock of it all, the woman went crazy, and in her delirium entrusted the baby to us. Shortly after she died, and we had no means of finding out who she was, the only clew being this locket. When Made- liene, as we named the baby, was old enough we told her, and gave her the locket. She has never worn it until today, fearing to lose it, as the chain was very ' frail. But a few weeks ago we sent it to a jeweler who strengthened the chain— and r day it came through the mail—how odd that it should have come today!” Thus it was that when Betty returned tv) America, her sister, Pauline, and her foster parents accompanied her. As for Bob Channing—he finished the proposal which had been so abruptly cut off, when he was known only as “Buddv,” and wired to his anxious father that he was at last returning home, bringing with him the long-sought-for rose perfume, and the most precious rose of all for a daugh- ter-in-law. Mabel Guilhop, February, ’25.

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6 THE GOLDEN-ROD which Madeliene’s father spent a great deal of time. Betty wondered, too, why Madcliene often wandered in the garden of roses, and returned looking so wistful. But before any of these things were ex- plained America entered the war, and Betty left this wonderland of roses for a very different scene, a grim and hor- rible scene, to nurse in one of the hos- pitals only a short distance behind the firing lines. Madcliene went, too, al- though Betty had objected at first. feelr ing she was not old enough. » One day a larger number of wounded soldiers than usual was brought in, among them several who had been badly gassed. Betty was very busy when Madcliene came excitedly to her and said: “Oh! Betty! I don’t know what to do! There’s one boy there—in American uni- form—he won’t keep still. He keeps muttering about Rose—and if he doesn’t —the doctor said his recovery depended on his keeping still—W hat shall I do?” Betty went to the restless boy, and found him tossing and turning, mutter- ing somethin» about Rose. Betty tried everything she could think of to quiet him, and finallv he dropped off to sleep, much to the delight, but wonder of Betty, who was never able to tell how she finally quieted him. When he awoke Betty was there, and catching sight of her, he smiled. During the long weeks that it took him to recover, Betty was often with him. Physically, he was improving rapidly, mentally—he appeared normal enough, and was very intelligent, but one thing troubled the doctors—he could remember nothing that had happened before he was wounded, not even his name, which they had no way of finding out, as there was no identification tag on him when brought to the hospital. Betty strove in vain to lift the darkness which seemed to cloud his past. One day, thinking of when he had been delirious, she mentioned “Rose,” and asked if he could remember anyone of that name. He tried to think, but finally replied, “Rose?—no, perhaps it was but a dream, perhaps not. Anyway,” he ended, with a good natured laugh, “I’m beginning to think I must be someone else instead of myself—whoever I am.” Thus it happened that when Buddy, as the nurses called him, was able, Betty took him for his first out door walk. On the way back he had to stop and rest. As they sat together, Betty thought he was acting very queerly. He seemed to be thinking very hard, perhaps of the front line trenches, or some battle he had been in, for every few moments he shud- dered. Finally he broke the silence by saying: “It is getting dark, we’d better be go- ing.” Then, after hesitating a moment, he continued, “I suppose I’m foolish, but something seems to tell me there is dan- ger near, for I have the same queer sensation that came to me before I was wounded. If anything should happen, if we shouldn't get back, I’d like you to know how much I love—” A blinding flash followed, the earth shook, rocks and dirt flew in all direc- tions, and Betty and Buddy did not con- tinue on their way back to the hospital. For some time confusion reigned in the hospital. Every nerve was on edge, wait- ing for another explosion. A French offi- cer came riding in, and told them that a bomb had been dropped by a German air- ship, probably intending to hit the hos- pital. The plane had been brought down by French machine guns, and there was no longer any danger. After this peace once more settled in the hospital. Madeliene was the first to notice the absence of Betty and Buddy, and, greatly alarmed, she ran to tell the head nurse. A search was at once made, and when everyone was about ready to give up, Madeliene found them, lying side by side about fifty feet from where the bomb had landed. They were carried back to the hospital, where it was found Betty’s arm was broken, and she was suffering from a severe wound in the head. The recks had also done their damage to Buddy. When they were at last restored to consciousness it was found that they were in a very nervous condition. After a consultation with Madeliene, the doc- tors decided to send them to her home, to recover in that wonderland of roses. Madcliene was given a leave of absence,

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8 THE GOLDEN-ROD Tbe Scales of Life Dizzily drove the snow, down, down, down; down on houses where young folks romped and laughed; down on small shacks where scraggly, pale-cheeked peo- ple huddled around a fire of gasping sticks; down on big stores where gorgeous things were displayed; down on small, dingy, back streets; down on Life! Through the slushy streets people crowded and pushed, smiled and frowned, sang and growled, many not thinking at all of other people’s troubles, but merely of getting home with packages and good- ies, home to warm fires, and eager, ex- pectant kiddies. “Buy paper, Sir: Buy paper for—” At this moment the speaker was rudely knocked off the sidewalk almost beneath the wheels of a large touring car. Speak- er: Indeed, he could scarcely be called that, because the word always makes one think of a “well-satisficd-with-myself” looking politician, and Patsy was just an under-sized, thin, scrawny, little chap with questioning brown eyes, a rather thin, freckled nose, and a mouth which was usually drawn into a straight line of determination. But. above all, Patsy had a heart beneath his worn little jacket big enough to hold all his own troubles, which were many, and those of all whom he knew besides. If the sentence could have been fin- ished, he would have said. “Buy a paper for Lily, Sir?” But as the man didn’t hear the name “Lily,” why of course he wouldn’t buy a paper. So thinking, poor little Patsy picked himself up and dashed into the crowd again. Lily was his dear baby sister, hardly eight years old. and. as Patsy was her guardian, he kept them both alive by selling papers and shining shoes. She was very much like a lily: so pure and waxen, with golden fluffy hair, thin deli- cate hands perfectly shaped, and deep blue eyes like shining mirrors that re- flected each sorrow and pain in her heart. It was no wonder that Patsy loved her. Everyone did. Very often the cruel neigh- bors told Patsy that he wouldn’t have her long because she was too good for this earth of sin. Bravely, the boy did his best, little realizing that his beloved sis- ter was breathing more and more slowly at the moment that he was almost run over. Oh! If he had known, he would have been but too glad to go with her, for Lily was the only thing that God had given him to make life bearable. Many times the boy was banged and cursed, many times roughly stepped on. One man. upon hearing the name Lily, cackled. “What d’yer think this is, kid, Easter?” And pinching Patsy’s cold little nose, he pushed him out of the way. His eyes burning with tears, Patsy ac- costed another man, who swore at him, and with a sweep of his arm knocked the waif into the street for the second time. But now a passing automobile mercifully brought surcease. Life went out as Patsy murmured “Lily” with his last breath. Xo one cared. Why should anyone? The following day was a holiday, and what good times it would bring! So all heed- lessly passed on, absorbed in thoughts of oming pleasure. Life is an evenly balanced pair of scales; for each joy there is some time a sorrow, for each song some time a tear. Surely, the scales must tip on the sorrow side at such times as this. Though every- one seems happy, what does this joy amount to? Only a glittering pin, or a stick of striped peppermint candy; only a passing gleam, soon to be forgotten. If we could remember that real happiness comes by doing small things to make others happy, and doing them not with cur hands, but with our hearts, how much we might help to tip the scales on the side of joy! Mabel Clark.