Quincy High School - Goldenrod Yearbook (Quincy, MA)

Page 15 text:

THE GOLDEN-ROD 13 name was Snyder and he was going to Arkansas to look after some property he had there. He said that his wife had recently died and that he was going to try to drown his sorrow in Arkansas. Edith, being touched by his charm and pathos, told him all about herself, her acquaintances on the train, and about Grace and how timid she was, and how she was expecting a holdup every minute. “O, don’t talk so, Edith,” said Grace. “I guess it would just about kill me to see a real bandit. Do have pity on me and please don’t talk so.” “For my part I’d like to see one,” said Edith, “I’d like to have a thrill for once in my life.” “But you’d lose your money,” suggest- ed Mr. Snyder. “I’d lose Grace’s,” laughed Edith, “She’s keeping my purse for me, that large one she’s holding in her lap. I’m trying to prove to her that there won’t be any holdup by letting her carry my money.” Mr. Snyder laughed and bid the cousins farewell, saying that he guessed he would go into the smoking car for a smoke. Xight came on and Edith and Grace got out their knitting. The other passen- gers were similarly engaged when a voice spoke from the end of the car: “Please hold up your hands, all of you!” Mr. Snyder stood there with a pistol in each hand, and another man whom no- body had noticed before, began a syste- matic search of the victims. He took the money and valuables of all the passengers. Then he came to Edith and Grace. Without protest Edith hand- ed out her brooch, Grace’s watch and purse, and Grace likewise handed out Edith’s well-stuffed wallet. Mr. Snyder then left saying airily, “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. Pleas- ant dreams.” Edith, white and shaken, sat for a long time in silence. Though the others talked she could not. “You’ve had your wish,” Grace whis- pered, “D-did you get a thrill, Edith?” “Well,” Edith said, “I got my thrill and he’s got all my money. We’ll have to join the Old Ladies’ Home when we get to Arkansas.” “No, we won’t.” A faint smile came over Grace’s little colorless face. “Edith, did you notice that I didn’t act very scared?” “I didn’t notice anything.” “Well, I wasn’t so scared as I was tickled. I guess I was so tickled that I couldn’t be scared. Course he got my watch and your brooch, but he didn’t get a mite of money.” “Grace Doyle! What do you mean?” “I mean I took all the money out of both purses and stuffed ’em with paper. The money’s in my suitcase. I took my scissors, made a little slit in the lining, stuffed the money in, and sewed it up before I got up this morning. I didn’t know we’d have any trouble, but I thought it best to be on the safe side.” Ina Wall s, J. ’28. TO A ROSE Have you ever watched a rose grow over the gar- den wall, A rose of red in a deep green bed, so beautiful, tender, and tall? With the soft summer breeze to caress it, While the sun’s rays around it fall, There is not in the world a thing to compare With the rose by the garden wall. Ethel Goodoak, ’29. BEAUTIFUL HANDS Beautiful hands arc those that do Noble deeds, both kind and true, Willing to work, the whole day long Making of life one beautiful song. Beautiful hands arc those that help The hardened snows of life to melt; Noble and white and always true, There is not a thing they cannot do. Dorothy Giles, F. ’29

Page 14 text:

12 THE GOLDEN-ROD Mischief He was a sight to behold, and yet he stood there, laughing up at me, his big sister, with such an impish innocence in his big blue eyes, that I could not but smile, a little ruefully, perhaps, at the picture he presented. His adorable curly hair was no longer curly, but stringing into his eyes and dripping muddy water down his neck and over his face, and his pug nose, although still beautiful in my eyes, was not a darling, babyish pink- and-white, but muddy black. His eye- brows were caked with mud and his face so much so that it seemed miraculous to me that he could still smile. He had always had a ravishing little dimple in his chin which now was more ravishing than ever, being full of water which had trickled unevenly down his nose and landed in the dimple. His ears stood out like sign- posts leading no one knows where, and he was wriggling from the coldness of the water on his dirty little neck. His Timid beautiful white linen collar which had been so carefully starched and pressed was hanging, rumpled and crumpled, by one thread. The lovely sailor suit was wringing wet and several buttons were minus. One shoe and one sock were gone, and his wet, muddy toes were wrig- gling ecstatically in the cool grass. The other sock had slipped down to his ankle and the shoe was soggy and filled with mud. I was displeased and knew that it would take one-half of my whole after- noon to clean him up and wash out the wet clothes, but still I knew I would yield to that sunny, innocent smile and kiss him. Why, oh why do these child experts say that we should be strict: They never dealt with John and his after-naughti- ness smile. Then the oracle spoke: “Mar- gie, ’oo won't tell mamma, wil ’oo?”— and I kissed him, mud and all. Margaret F. Thompson, J. ’28. Grace Before they started for Arkansas Edith Randall told her cousin Grace Doyle that xsl e did wish she could see a hold-up. “I’ve lived in one place all my life with- out a thing out of the ordinary happen- in’,” she said, “and I’d like to have some- thin’ excitin’ happen before I die. Land sakes, Grace, here I’m fifty years old and in all my life never saw anything more than a mouse to jump at.” Grace Doyle shivered at the thoughts of a holdup. She was small and colorless and timid. A mouse was quite large enough for her to jump at. It was partly because of this timidness that Edith Ran- dall hated to take Grace such a long way from home. “But I couldn’t get anyone else to take the trip with,” said Edith to her neigh- bors, “and it’s not pleasant traveling alone. Besides, Grace has a lovely dis- position, even if she is skeery, and we’ll get along fine. She hasn’t any too much money, either, and as I have more than I know what to do with I thought it would be nice to take her with me on my trip to Arkansas.” Once they had set out on their journey the two cousins found a great deal to talk about, at least Edith Randall did. Her ancestors had been pioneers and she loved to tell how her great-great-grandfather had combatted nine Indians single- handed. Land sakes!” exclaimed Edith, “You afraid of a holdup: Well, you take my purse and I’ll take yours. You trust me and I’ll trust you. All my money is in my purse, Grace, so take good care of it.” That afternoon the cousins noticed a newcomer in the dining car. He was sitting across the aisle and, when Edith accidentally dropped her handkerchief, he picked it up and restored it to her. After they returned to their seats the stranger sought them out. He said his

Page 16 text:

14 THE GOLDEN-ROD His Duty to the School The track meet between Fair Haven and Manchester as predicted by the sport writers, was a tie until the final event, the mile run. Stetson, the best miler Fair Haven had produced in years, was de- pended upon by hundreds to “bring home the victory” which would give Fair Haven the International Championship. Bates, Manchester’s mile runner, was also a good miler, but the daily papers gave Stetson a slight edge over Bates. Among the thousands of spectators who witnessed the meet were three wealthy members of the Manchester Alumni. In discussing the meet, they realized how important it was for Manchester to win the championship. Something must be done to prevent Fair Haven from win- ning. They immediately resolved to make Stetson an offer to “bag the race.” “Stetson! Stetson! message for Stet- son!” cried the messenger as he paraded through the contestants in search of the famous miler. Finally Stetson was found leaning against the door of the dressing room entrance. He took the message and thanked the boy. After opening the en- velope he read the following: “We must see you before the race takes place, at the rear of the dressing room.” With only a few minutes before the race, Stetson hurriedly went around to the rear of the building and there found the three Manchester supporters. The point of the hurried meeting was made clear to Stetson, which was fol- lowed by an offer to “throw the race.” Just then the milers were called to- gether at the starting point. As Stetson was leaving the men he heard a final statement: “And don’t forget, you won’t have to worry about college expenses for the next two years.” While Stetson was walking from the dressing room to the starting point, he considered the offer. Throughout his high school years a great desire of his was to be able to attend college. His father, who was a poor hard-work- ing man, could not afford to send him to college. Should he accept his college education to lose the race or not, was the question that lingered in Stetson’s mind as he started the race at the pistol shot. The race was a thriller. Bates of Man- chester quickly jumped into the lead and had a margin of ten yards over Stetson at the end of the first lap. Stetson’s heart and mind were not on the race at this great minute, so import- ant to the school he represented. He was thinking of the future. He arrived upon a conclusion. His duty to the school and the school’s honor in winning the Inter- national Championship was worth more than a college education for himself. He quickly realized the situation and took up his usual winning pace. The third lap was over and Stetson had ten yards to gain on his opponent. He quickened his stride, which resulted in a gain of eight yards at the beginning of the fifth and last lap. Both Bates and Stetson were now running for all they were worth, side by side at the half-way mark. For fifty-five yards the runners kept up this heart-breaking pace. Fifty yards away from the tape, and then Stetson shot ahead, passing the tape a yard ahead of Bates. The crowd of Fair Haven supporters went wild. Fair Haven had won the In- ternational Championship and Stetson was proclaimed the hero of the day.