Reading Memorial High School - Pioneer Yearbook (Reading, MA)

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The Pioneer VEXATIONS OF THE TELEPHONE. Hello! exclaimed the man at the phone. Is that foiir-doiible-one, Ches¬ ter? Yes, sinswered the man at the other end of the wire. Is M.r. Parson there? Who? Parson! Parson! I don’t catch the name. The voices, alreadj loud, became stentorian now. I said Parson! Parker? No! What’s the matter with this telephone anyhow? Parson! Harper? Naw! Parson! P-a-r-s-OTii! Person! Get it now? Oh, Parson. Yes I believe there is a man of that name in the next room. Shall I call Imn to the phone? If you please. Then he added in a much lower tone, and speaking to himself, “A man tha can’t hear it thunder oughtn’t to try to t?-Ik through a telephone ” Whereupon he clis ' inctly hea d the response, also in a low tone; ‘nA m.an with a fog-horn voice doesn’t need a telephone. Let him get up on the roof and shout.” This incident shows it is not always the fault of the telephone. FLORENCE TURNER. EDMUND RANDOLPHE BROWNE . “Are you going?” called Louisa from the riazza. ‘‘Sure thing! where?” sh uted the boy coming up the path from the shore. He stumped up the steps and flopped in the hammock, swung his long legs up, adjusted two or three pillows under his head and then gazed calmly at his sister. “Now what’s up? Where am I to chaperon you this time?” he asked “Don’t be sarcastic. Jack,” sTd his sister, “because you don’t know how to do it well and besides, you know per¬ fectly well that when you and RiLh Kensington go apywhere, I have to do the chaperoning.” “Um-ni-m! Ruth’s going, is she? that changes matters. You might mention where it is that we are go¬ ing.” “Didn’t you see the poster on the wharf about the Minstrel Show at Camp to-night? The laun:h is c:m- ing over at 6.45 ' o get us.” A lady and a boy of ten ha I come on the piazza in time to hear Louise’s last sentence. “Edmund Randolphe writs to go to the Minstrel Show too,” said Mrs. Browne, “and I was wonder ng if he might go with you. Miss Fester. I am so timid about going on the water myself.” Edmund Randolphe clung to his mother’s hand and blushed b ' sh ully at the mention of his name. Louise glanced quickly at her hrether and replied, promptly, “Why ccr ainly, Mrs. Browne, he may go wi h us. I’m sure that Jack will be pleased to lock out for him.” Jack glowered at his s ' ster and mumbled something abou seeing to the kid all right. The mini e Mrs. Browne and Edmund Rando’i ' he were cut of sight he said in a boa.rse whis¬ per, “And I’ll see to you too. Sis, for palming off on to me a si-s”- mummer’s-cherub-boy like that. Some¬ thing might happen to the kid end then you’ll be sorry.” Louise laughed so at him that he found the pir.zza un¬ comfortable and he went down to the shore whistling a mournful tune. At the time appointed a crowd of jolly summer people was assemb ' ed on the wharf, waiting for the launch. Edmund Randolphe, in a stiffly starch¬ ed white suit, kept tight hold of Jack Foster’s hand, much to the amuse¬ ment of everyone but Jack. When they reached the island and were seated at last,—Edmund Ran¬ dolphe wedged tightly between Jack, and Ruth Kensington,— Jack whis¬ pered to his charge, “iSay, Edmund

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The Pioneer Was there ever such a commotion? The first letter she opened read thus; “My dear Nephew George,—No doubt you have heard your mother tell o: her only sisteo . It is she that is writ¬ ing. It has always been my desire to get acquainted with my relatives. I have met William and have accom¬ panied him on his wedding trip a short distance. I will srrive at your house W ednesday for a short visit to you and your family. Yours truly, ORISSA TRANT.” 4mazed beyond her control iMl.s. Grey son went back to the parlor and, as she tucked the letter in her hus- bands pocket asked him to take the suit case to William’s room—a thing which the hackman had already done. He went av ay, glad of a chance to collect his wits. In an hour everything was all right. Little Hattie was bound to say “GREAT Aunt Orissa” and “LIT¬ TLE Aunt Marion.” After tea Aunt Marion wias playing toss with Regie and Uncle Will while Hattie was sitting on her father’s knee jealous. “Siizose she’ll play dolls with me?” she asked. Papa Greyson smiled. Aunt Orissa merely said, “Does William’s wife give you satisfaction?” “She’s a jewel” said he, “Will couldn’t have done better.” BERNICE A. BATCHBLDER. SCHOOL IN 2000 A. D. Let us look in upon the flourishing high school students of 2000 A. D. It is 8.15 the time for school to begin but as there has been a dance the night before the enterprising students have not arrived, so school is postponed until nine. At nine the chimes ring softly to announce to the eager stu¬ dents (about seventy-five on this par¬ ticular morning) that school is in session. After the opening exercises the students pile out of the hell knock¬ ing over the chairs and tripping each other up much to the delight of the principal and teachers who clap their hands with fiendish glee. At ten the baseball squad is dis¬ missed to practice as they must win the pennant and receive a beautiful tobacco jar and ai pippin for each mem¬ ber on the team. The students are allowed to sleep during recitations as three of the teachers were matrons the night before. At recess the boys sit around ma¬ hogany tables and smoke and have lunch brought to them while the girls also sit around tables drinking tea and playing whist. After recess the recitations are hur¬ ried through and at one the school is dismissed. But alas a few unlucky pupils who neglected to knock over chairs and trip each other up and be¬ haved nicely through the day must return at three. At the three o’clock session only 47 have to return on this particular day. During the three o’clock session the poor students are forced to eat ice cream and cake and when they are let out they go and secure tickets for the theatre that night that they may be bright and fresh for school the next morning. A. G. WINSHIP. JUNIOR FRENCH TRANSLATIONS. “Nous ne nous embrasserons pas parce que nous ne nous embrassons jamais.” “We will not kiss each other bec ause we have never been kissed.” “Me voila! there is me.” English Teacher—“What kind of a question is it which is asked for effect —which does not expect an answer?” Long Silence. “Well, I sometimes ask such ques¬ tions.” Miss P-rk—r (who has suffered) sud¬ denly inspired, “Sarcastic?”

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The Pioneer Randolip ' he, I don’t believe anything will happen to you if you let go my hand now.” Edmund Randolphe unclasped his tight grip and just then the curtain was drawn aside and he was launched in a hurly-burly of joyous boys’ songs and ridiculous jokes such as he had never heard before. The Minstrel Show was a long one and when the last grand chorus had been shouted uproariously by the boy performers, Edmund Randolphe seized Jack’s hand once more. It was a black night for there was no moon and the stars shown dimly through the branches of the pine trees as the gay company, guided by boys with bobbing lanterns, followed the path to the wharf. Jack tried hard to walk beside Ruth Kensington, but as Edmund Randolphe’s clasp was tighter than ever and as the path was not wide enough for three, he gave it up in despair. It was about half-tide and it came time for the ladies to get down the perpendicular ladder to the float where the launch was moored. As the float had drifted about two feet away from the wharf, a iplank had been plaiced from the bot¬ tom rung of the ladder to the float and it took three men and two lan¬ terns to land each lady safely in the launch. Jack was on the wharf, leaning against the railing and thinking of hew Edmund Randolphe had spoiled his evening with Ruth, when suddenly his heart gave a jump. He missed Edmund Randolphe’s warm clasp. He started to shoulder his way through the crowd when he heard a startled cry and then an ominous splash. He rushed to the edge just in time to see Edmund Randolphe’s biig white straw sailor hat floating in the inky black water between the float and the wharf. Then a white scared face came to the surface. A dozen hands were ready to pull the boy out. Jack was quickly on the float and took Ed¬ mund Randolphe into the cabin of the launch. With chattering teeth the boy tried to explain,—while Jack was pulling sweaters of every descrip¬ tion over his dripping head,—that he knew that he had been in Jack’s way and that he wasn’t ever going to take hold of people’s hands anymore and that he walked right off the wharf into the water before he knew it. Jack saw the look of determination on Edmund Randolphe’s face and he knew there was grit in the youngster after all. “Look here, Edmund Randolphe,” he said, ‘T’m awful sorry you went overboard, but perhaps after all, it has waked you up. And if you will let me call you ‘Ned,’ and if you will promise never to tag after people again make a boy of you yet.” Edmund Randolphe grinned as well as his wiggling jaws would let him and he said, ‘‘And I promise, not to get in your way any more when you want to walk with Miss Kensington.” He stretched out his cold little paw and they shook on it. By the end of the summer, under Jack’s careful tutoring, Edmund Ran¬ dolphe had graduated to Ned Browne. GENEVIEVE BOSSON, 1907. Oh, seats, false seats, within the hall where we would dances give. Ye are too fair and delicate within this world to live. Yea, fair ye are, oh, passing fair. Most passing fair we know. Each knock and jar your looks will mar. Why did they make ye so? ‘‘As we looked out the window we thought it was spring, We saw the green grass—we heard the birds sing. But our birds turned to frogs and alas, the green grass. Proved to be the reflection of our Freshman class.” ’10.