Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

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20 THE GOLDEN-ROD fitted for no responsible position. . And Ann herself: When the third day had come and gone, and with it no signs of work for her father, she began to think seriously. She knew that she could not do secretarial work. She might be able to become a clerk, but where: The next morning Ann slipped out of the house after breakfast. She had be- come very grave in these last few days. Life seemed to have shown that work was to be done everywhere; there was no time to be fooled away. But where: Again that discouraging word. It is doubtful if the elderly female population of Hillsdale would have recognized, at first glance, the pale, sober, little lady who walked quickly down the busy street that morning. From one employment office to another she wandered for the greater part of the day. But nowhere did she meet with success. Late in the afternoon, Ann wended her way back disconsolately. If she could not obtain work and her father was equally unsuccessful, what were they to do: She turned a corner and was jostled roughly by a stout woman. Looking up, she dis- covered that she was standing before a theatre. And above the ticket office her startled gaze fell upon a sign: “Girl Wanted” Her heart jumped, and then she began to consider. Her pride would not allow her to take that sort of job. What if some of her former associates should see her sitting in this little box, like so many of the painted girls she had seen, dealing out tickets to a pleasure-seeking crowd: Her thoughts suddenly turned to Richard Bar- net. She could almost see the amused expression which she fancied would come over his face if he saw her here and com- pared her with the girl she had been when he saw her in Hillsdale. She wanted to move on, but something compelled her to enter the building. As if in a dream, she found herself in the manager’s office, an- swering questions and finally being told to report for work the following morning. Both Mr. and Mrs. Eveanson greeted the announcement of Ann’s decision to work with unbounded astonishment, and not a little gladness. Surely this revealed a new and formerly undiscovered trait in their daughter’s character. One evening Ann, tearing off tickets and making change as rapidly as her tired fingers would permit, heard a low ex- clamation of amazement from outside the booth. She looked up, to see a woman turning away. In a few days the inevitable happened. As Ann was walking through the brightly- lighted street after leaving the office for the evening, a low, strangely familiar voice sounded in her ear. Turning quick- ly, she looked up into the eyes of Richard Barnet. A flood of color rushed into her cheeks, and a sudden desire to run away surged through her. But the young man, boldly drawing her hand through his arm, led her, dumbfounded, into the street. “I left a taxi waiting at the next cor- ner,” he said. This awakened her. “Where are you taking me?” she demanded. “Why, home. I promised your mother—” “My mother! You have visited my mother: But—why—how did you find—” “Oh, easily enough! One of your for- mer friends in Hillsdale happened to see you here working at the theatre, and kind- ly spread it all over town. Dotty wrote to me, telling me all,—your father’s fail- ure and—everything. So you have awak- ened at last, Ann?” “Awakened?” repeated Ann blankly. “Awakened? Why, for the last week or two I have felt as if I were in a strange dream. If you thought me dull and mon- otonous back in Hillsdale, how can you think me otherwise now, of all times?” One of Richard’s big hands closed over the small one resting on his arm. “Dull and monotonous? Why, I thought you were a little too ‘fast’ for me, and determined to forget you. You see, I didn’t think this earnestness was in you. I—Oh, the dickens! What am I raving this way for, when there is really only one thing to say? I saw your parents tonight and received permission to tell you— something—and—and—ask you some- thing, Ann!” Ann’s heart was thumping madly. A wild sense of delicious joy ran like quick- silver through her veins. “Ann!” Richard was looking anxiously into her face.

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 19 “Undiscovered Gold” She wasn’t at all a bad girl, or even naughty. It was just that she possessed an everlasting desire to be “in on some- thing,” as she herself expressed it. But when the elderly portion of the female sex of Hillsdale saw most every evening that Ann Evcanson, just out of her teens, had captured another young man with a road- ster that defied all speed laws, they shook their heads and looked askance on the gay little heart-breaker. And when the much- discusscd damsel, attired in a “nifty” checked knicker suit, with her hat jammed at a dangerous angle over her bobbed curls, flapped along Dale Avenue, right past Mrs. Ramsdell’s gate, on the after- noon when that dignified person was en- tertaining the minister and the committee of the Ladies’ Auxiliary on her wide front piazza, these same worthy, elderly ladies lifted their hands and rolled their eyes in horror. But Ann did not mind them in the least. In fact, she rather enjoyed the sensation she created. 'That she might be a source of anxiety to her doting parents never entered her head. Her father had striven hard to keep his business above the water- line, in order that his only daughter might be granted her every reasonable desire. There were times now when he sat up late at night pouring over account books, but although he looked grave and trou- bled, Ann never noticed it. One evening Ann, who had been called from the living-room to the ’phone, bounced back, exclaiming: “What do you know! Dotty says that her brother has invited a perfectly wonderful friend to spend the week with him. An old college friend, it seems. He must be twenty-six or seven, at least; but that does not mat- ter if he is good-looking, and so on. By the way, I want to show Dotty the lovely- compact I bought at Sayre’s today. Guess I’ll run over for a while.” M rs. Evcanson looked as if she were .about to speak, but before she had opened her lips, Ann was bounding up the stairs to her room. A great deal of care was lavished on Ann’s make-up that evening. When she arrived at Dottv’s house, she found that Bob’s much-heralded guest had already arrived, and was conversing on the veranda with a few other young men, all of whom knew Ann intimately. For what eligible young male in Hillsdale was oblivious to that young lady’s charms.5 Richard Barnet, however, ap- peared not to be in the latter class. At first he seemed amused, but soon he ex- hibited signs of boredom at the girl’s light, inconsequential chatter. Piqued by his calm indifference, she resolved to make him take notice of her. During the week of his visit, Ann found many things important enough to be talked over with Dotty at Dotty’s house. But Richard, though studiously polite, never seemed over anxious for her com- pany on these frequent visits. On the contrary, he seemed to avoid her. On the day that he left the town, Ann realized that the conquest of this cool, self-pos- sessed man had become the greatest object of her desire. But the gentleman, appar- ently unaware of the havoc he had wrought in Ann’s heart, packed his bags and went away, promising to come again when he had a chance. And Ann tear- fully told herself that, wild as she seemed to the people of Hillsdale, she must ap- pear very unsophisticated to a man of the world like Mr. Barnet. Two weeks after Richard’s departure, the cloud which had been hanging so heavily over the Evcansons’ household burst. Mr. Eveanson’s business failed. When all debts had been paid, Mr. Eve- anson found himself homeless and with exactly ninety dollars in the world. Think- ing that an opening would present itself in a larger city sooner, Mr. Evcanson took his wife and daughter to a modest apart- ment which he had rented in X—. Then he set about looking for a position. Two days passed in which nothing presented itself, and in which their small sum of money diminished steadily. Mr. Evean- son’s shoulders dropped lower than ever; all his courage seemed to be slipping away. Yet, strangely enough, neither he nor his wife thought of asking the delicate Ann to try her luck. For what could she do? Although she had been educated in a fashionable boarding-school, she was

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THE GOLDEN-ROD 21 Ann, glancing up, saw the eyes of many passers-by upon them. “Oh, please, please! People will see! Wait—where is that taxi?” Richard came to with a start and glanced about him. “Why, we have walked a whole block beyond it.” And they both laughed, a little unstead- ily, but happy at the something which they saw in each other’s eyes. Florence Rauch, June, ’26. Dulce The sun was slowly setting, shedding its wonderful glory over the dear old gen- tleman so soon to walk the western path. Many a time we had sat thus, watching the dying day, while he related talcs of his youth, so marvelous, mysterious, al- most superhuman. The mystery of the sea and all the Orient lurked in the atmosphere about him, as he began in his kindly way: “Well, my dear, we set sail from Eng- land in the ‘S. S.----’ just at the Christ- mas season, and hearts were heavy at leaving our dear ones. Our destination was India, where we arrived in good time, unloaded passengers, mail and cargo, filled up for the return trip, said our fare- wells, and set out once again for ‘Home, Sweet Home.’ The balmy Indian air was exhilarating. It stole into our very souls as day after day we rode through the different seas. When we left Calcutta, our route lay through the Bay of Bengal into the Indian Ocean, thence to the Arabian Sea, the Gulf of Aden, through the Strait of Bab- e!-Mandeb, and into the Red Sea, for we were returning by way of the Mediter- ranean. “We had been out some days and were making for the Gulf of Aden. The cap- tain, a very dear, intimate friend of mine, after the passengers had retired for the night, had a habit of walking the deck in his bare feet, for he liked to feel the heavy dew that falls in those regions. I, the chief engineer, would ascend to the hatch- way of the upper deck, resting on the casing, enjoying the wonderful Indian nights, as I dreamt of those to whom every revolution of the engines was bringing me closer and closer. As the captain passed, we would exchange desultory talk; so closely knit in soul were we, silence itself was company. “Patter, patter, patter, went the bare feet, fore and aft, for almost an hour. Then, passing me, the captain, looking skyward, said: ‘It’s a dirty night, Mac; it’s a dirty night.’ “Lazily I looked up, agreeing silently, and thinking how bright the moon had been a while previously. Again I was lulled with the swish of the ocean against the ship’s sides, the salt breeze, the purr of my engines, so human to me, and I for- got the ‘dirty night!’ “Patter, patter came the captain again, muttering to himself. By this time I had come fully on deck and, standing at the rail, began examining weather conditions, feeling premonitions. “The captain, coming up to where I stood, began sniffing the air, saying: ‘Dulce, dulce!’ in a questioning way; then, after a pause, ‘I smell dulce, Mac, I smell dulce!’ “Dulce is a seaweed which grows only near shores, and is eaten in some coun- tries as a vegetable. “‘Dulce!’ Shall I ever forget the sniff I took? Just at that moment the moon in all her splendor shone through a break in two high peaks. “‘Great God!’ I cried, ‘we are on the rocks!’ “No need for bells—no need for sig- nals ! How I reached the engines I never knew, but before even the captain put foot on the bridge, I had her full speed astern,—back, back from that terrible death! Away, away from the black Cape of Guardafui! “We had been running full speed ahead into the rocks on the northeastern coast of Africa, where only man-eating savages live, and if once we had been wrecked there, none would have survived to tell the tale.