Richmond Womans College - Puffs and Patches Yearbook (Richmond, VA)

Page 50 text:

1 If 1, il ls 1 l I if A ii ll tl ,li lg -1 -I X 1 I r- 3 l 1 I 5. r 3 3 I . 5 1 l f l I . I hear thunderous applause again, and a vast auditorium comes plainly into view. It is a scene of magical beauty that I see, for the stage is literally covered in flowers. VV hen theapplause dies away the singer begins in a rich, contralto voice, which rings clearly through the building. The deep, sweet notes are familiar. I know they can only belong to Elizabeth Wicker. I am even more proud of 1ny classmates when I see that her accompanist is Mary jones. I see several rows of girls taking physical culture exercises. One at the end of the line does wrong and the teacher shows her the right way. As she comes forward, I see more clearly and it is Helen Whitlock, physical culture in- structress and coach in one of the big northern colleges. A large store, Hlled with all things dear to a woman's heart, comes into view. A young woman is seated before a long mirror, she is evidently seeing the effect of the beautiful hat she has on., Something in her manner shows me that she is purchasing her trousseau. Everything about her is so' pretty that I envy her a little. I wait patiently for her to remove her hat so I can tell who she is. She stands and looks over her shoulder at the refiection of the long, graceful plume, then she lifts it off and I see Nora Parsons. ' No more pictures will rise in the spray. My brain is dulling. Vainly I peer forward for I have not seen my destiny. I feel a light touch on my shoulder, and, turning, I see the fairy, who says gently, The destinylof others you have seen, your own is denied to you. One never believes one's own future. She smilingly waved her wand. I foundthe. fountain and garden fading g it all seemed a dream. And so, dear classmates, before the memory of that dream fades, I tell you what I saw in the magic fountain.

Page 49 text:

by the child, but now she stands up to pluck a rose from a nearby bush and I see that it is Pearl Massey. Again the spray shows a wide porch. At one end are two persons. an old lady and a young girl. The lady seems devotedly attached to her companion, and, somehow, 'l learn that she is old, alone. This girl has won her heart, and at her death will inherit her vast fortune. The happy girl, classmates, is Mabel Leidy. It is a crowded church I now see. The soft strains of a violin blend exe quisitely with notes 'of the clear-voiced singer. The song is changed to the triumphant strains of a wedding march, and all eyes are turned expcctantly toward the bridal party. Several of the bridesmaids seem familiar. First, l'-lazelle Gibbs, who is teaching music in a fashionable W'alshington school, ,losephine Rose, head of the Y. WY C. A. work in America. But it is the bride who is the especial target for all eyes. Slowly, leaning on her father's arm, she comes toward the altar. I-Ier eyes are down-drooped and her face is half hidden in the shower of lace, yet I easily recognize the bright face of Virginia Seay, but a new Virginia, for when she raised her lids, her whole soul is shining through her glorious eyes. VVhen the bridal party left, I turned to see who the violinist and organist were. The former was Annie Mae jones and the latter Kathleen Parrish. Both have become famous. It is an old southern city in one of the most fashionable streets. A handsome limousine rolls up and from it steps two ladies. The first is tall, slender, blonde and dressed in the height of fashion. The other is not so tall but stouter. After a word to the chauffeur, they start up the steps. Mrs. --, formerly Elizabeth Staplekamp, one of the most popular young matrons in the city, is one, and the other Mrs. ---, whom we knew as Ivy Osborn. She is spending the winter in her friend's southern home. ' 'I The gray, ghost-like hull of an ocean steamer steals through the mist of early morning into the crowded harbor of Liverpool. As the gang-plank is lowered, the sun bursts through, brightening the scene. In one of the groups are two ladies. - I hope your book will be a success, Miss Starke, one of the gen- tlemen is saying. Eagerly, I look and see Susie and Helen Starke. They are writing a sketch of their European travels, which will be widely read. Q ' The soft light of the moon silvers the waters of a small lake. On it a boat is floating lazily. A girl is seated in the stern of the boat, who droops her head demurely as she listens to the impassioned words of the man. I love you, he is fervently saying, marry me. She glances up with big, soft brown eyes. It is Robbie Blanton. . The curtain has just risen on the opening scene of one of the most talked of plays of the season. Everyone is praising the young actress who has the leading role. I look forward anxiously to find who our star can be. She comes to the front of the stage, and, despite the make-up, I know Vera Warren. - A 45

Page 51 text:

y To You I know the world is big, dear, Oh, very big and wide! But my love for you would fill it And another world beside. I know the earth has miles, dear Oh, weary miles indeed! But to travel to my love's end As many more you'd need. I know that time is long, dear, Oh, very long, 'tis true! I But I must have eternity To Finish loving you. 47