Red Bank High School - Log Yearbook (Red Bank, NJ)

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THE ROUND TABLE 7 you so good to me? Everyone else laughs.” “Why should I laugh, Robin, boy?” asked Neil, “you are my pay—you’ll never leave me, will you?” With pitiable tenderness the boy seized Neil’s hand and raised it to his lips, and when he raised his face there were tears in his eyes. “Here, here, let’s have a tune!” cried Neil—and lifting the bow to the strings he played for Robin. And so the friendship grew, until Neil with the hunchback by his side became a common sight. No one really knows how it hap- pened, but there came a day when memories came flooding back to his mind—memories of one whom he thought had been forgotten. He had thought it safe to pass through her town, but he had not counted on see- ing her. It unnerved him, and for the first time “The Mender of Broken Dreams” spoke an unkind word to Robin. Poor boy! He could not under- stand the change. “Neil,” he said, touching the bowed head, “Neil, you’re not ill?” “Leave me alone, I told you or 1 11” —he raised his arm. Horror stricken, Robin cringed and with a cry of pain, ran away, as swiftly as his poor limbs could carry him. In a flash, realization came to Neil, and he gave a cry of remorse—what had he done! “Robin, come back, Robin boy, I didn’t mean it.” He dashed after him, vainly calling, but Robin would not hear. Neil had hurt him. Neil, the one he loved! On he sped until his aching limbs could carry him no farther, with Neil close on his heels. With a cry of pain. Robin flung himself to the ground, just as a big car dashed around the corner. This was the easiest way to die—to leave forever the one whom he had loved and who had failed him. But the machine did not hit its in- tended victim. Quick as a flash Neil was at his side, and catching him, literally flung him out of the way. A cry—a crash—then darkness! “He’s had a hard time of it, but I guess he’ll pull through.” Neil opened his eyes and wondered why it pained him to do so. Then he remembered, and a little cry escaped his lips. “What is it?” the nurse bent anxi- ously over him. “Robin—my friend—” “Oh, he’s safe,” she replied. “He’s been asking for you every day.” He gave a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. “You are a brave fellow,” she added. “No,” wearily, “just selfish.” “Delirious again,” she remarked to the doctor. The seventh day a note came—a note that brought the sunshine back to Neil, and this is what it said: “Neil dear, I begged so hard to see you but they wouldn’t let me, so this note must do. Can you ever forgive me for calling you selfish? The story of your noble sacrifice has reached the farthest parts of the state. It was splendid of you! And now. Oh “Men- der of Broken Dreams” do hurry up and get well. I have something awfully important to tell you. Will you hear it? Ruth.” And here my tale ends, for the “Mender of Broken Dreams” has found an able assistant. E.V.H.,’25

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6 TITE ROUND TABLE THE MENDER OF BROKEN DREAMS “Dear Neil, Yes it is all over! I feel that I cannot marry a man who is selfish— and your refusal to help that poor fel- low the other day shows that you are just that. You couldn’t spare the time, you say. No, because you didn’t want to—it would have made you late for the game at the club. I thought I cared for you, Neil—I rather guess I did—but this is goodbye. Ruth.” For an eternity it seemed, Neil sat with the note in his hand—the note that had brought all his air castles tumbling about his feet. Ruth—good- bye—selfish! Was he? Yes— he ad- mitted it with a groan. Why—oh— why, had he been so thoughtless?— for he was that rather than selfish. He laid his head on his arms and closed his eyes wearily, but still the thoughts would come, and in despair he picked up his violin and began to play. What soul-inspiring melodies can be brought forth when sorrow is in the heart! He played on, unmind- ful of the hour—forgetful of all save the music—trying to shut out a face that was constantly before him. At last from sheer exhaustion he sank down in a chair and rested his chin on his hand. How long he sat there he did not know, but suddenly he be- came aware of another presence and he looked up, startled to see a youth before him—a youth with sad eyes and a dejected droop to his shoulders—a youth trying to choke back unhidden tears. ‘T heard,” he whispered brokenly, “it was beautiful. Just like what Dad used to play and, thinking of him, I couldn’t do it Here, take it before I am tempted. He ruined me, but I can’t do it.” He dropped a glittering object at Neil’s feet and hurried out into the night. Coming from his daze with a shock, Neil looked down—a gun. Then the boy had intended to kill someone! And he—what had he done? He had pre- vented it. “Selfish—thoughtless! ” A new purpose had come to his mind, and before the night was over he knew what course to take. First, to forget her. And since forgetting one comes from thinking of others this would be easy. Then he must sell his business—that was it—sell his busi- ness, and go on the road, with the great blue sky for a roof and his violin for a companion! Two weeks later found Neil on the road—quite happy now, except for one thing—wandering from place to place, doing a kind deed here, bestow- ing a friendly word there, and as time went on and people came to know him, this strange, kind fellow with the violin under his arm, they grew to love him. How many families he re- united! How often he could replace tears with smiles. The children called him “The Prince of Happiness,” but, it was a poet—a young fellow whom Neil had saved from disgrace, who gave him the title which rightly fitted him — “The Mender of Broken Dreams.” And then he met Robin. Robin was a cripple—a poor fellow with a mind as distorted as his poor body. In his eyes everyone was an enemy ready to ridicule him, or to cast stones at him. But Neil with his violin won over the confidence of Robin, who followed him around like a faithful dog. “Neil,” Robin would say, “why are

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8 THE ROUND TABLE PRINCE Prince was one of four bird dog puppies. At first he looked very little like a prince, and there was nothing to distinguish him from the other puppies. They were chubby little balls of fur with square little noses and very wabbly legs. It is at this age that a puppy becomes curious. From the first Prince was the most adven- turous. There was a small runway which led up to the kennel, and several times his master was awakened by a feeble wailing in the middle of the night. Upon investigating he found that Prince had come down the runway, but his puny legs were not strong enough to enable him to climb back. There he sat, with his little nose point- ed straight up at the sky, and howled. As the puppies grew it became ap- parent that Prince was the largest and most intelligent one. When they were six months old his master, John Hun- ter, sold the other pups. A few weeks later Prince’s mother went also. Prince was the only one that his master kept. That fall Prince accompanied his master many times into the fields. He learned to point, charge, heel, retrieve, and come to the whistle. As Prince grew up he developed into a magnificent specimen of English Setter. He was truly a Prince of dogs. He was of a creamy white color with a few quite large black spots and many “ticks.” His face was black with a narrow strip of white down the middle, and over his eyes arched a brown eyebrow. His legs and tail were heavily “feathered.” Prince was very dignified, and he had a habit of sitting upon his haunch- es with a most solemn expression, and gravely offering his paw to shake hands. He was also very fond of his master, and was never so happy as when allowed to accompany his master in ranging through the fields. In the evening he liked very much to lie in front of the open fire with his head upon his paws and his eyes upon the face of his master who sat smoking and looking at the fire, or reading. Next to his master in Prince’s affec- tions was Tommy. Tommy was nearly five years old. Prince realized that it was his duty to stand still and gravely endure the most disrespectful treat- ment at the hands of Tommy. He must have his ears or tail pulled, or else be used as a saddle horse. There came a time when things did not go well with John Hunter. The mortgage upon his little house was due and he did not have enough money to pay it. A dog as good as Prince brings a high price, and when Mr. Hunter was offered $400 by a man named Smith, he consented, much against his will, to sell Prince. Mr. Smith was to come for him in a month. The days slipped swiftly away. Prince noticed a change in his master, for whenever his master spoke to him there was a note of sadness or regret in his voice. One evening as he was reading before the fire John Hunter spoke abruptly. “To-morrow Mr. Smith comes to pay me and take Prince away. You know, I half wish that I hadn’t consented to sell him. But what else can I do?” “Nothing,” answered his wife. A few moments later he spoke again. “I think it will be a good idea to keep Tommy in the house to- morrow,” he said, “I see that a large rattle snake has escaped from the cir- cus and is supposed to be somewhere